This is a commentary about the slow lane, about the slowing of time since I suffered a severe brain injury while skateboarding with my dog. This is a blog about recovery; about our '82 VW Westfalia. It's about writing, surfing, camping, married life, bleeding ulcers that make you feel old at 32; about family, friends, and my dog Artie; it's about cruising in fourth gear, getting passed by every car and learning to appreciate every second of it.
"You go to Texas on vacation and you leave on probation," said one homeless dude standing in the VW repair shop, looking for some work. The good ol' Texas saying summed up my feelings on the state.
On Tuesday we left for Ozona to get our van. On the four-hour trip with Artie riding in the back seat, the mechanic who had told me the van was ready the day before called Aimee to tell her that it was not. So, we sat in Fredericksburg waiting for a call that never came. Instead, we made the call, the conversation got heated and the mechanics hung up on us.
The next day, we borrowed a friends truck and rented a Uhaul tow-dolly and took off to rescue our van. Our plan was to go to the Sheriff and have him come to the shop with us so there wouldn't be any trouble. The Sheriff's office was located in the Crockett County jail, which is located directly behind the Baptist Church and next door to the Davy Crockett Museum. Just before we walked into the jail door, the mechanics at Cap Rock Diesel called and said the van was ready, except for a few minor issue.
We towed it back to Austin and took it to a cool VW repair shop called Underground VW. When I pulled in two employees came over and started commenting about the smell of diesel fuel.
"Oh, it smells like diesel," I asked.
They shot me a strange look...
"Yeah, I lost my sense of smell...head injury."
I turned away to avoid another strange glance.
After a few minutes, the owner Toby, a middle-aged man with a long, wiry, white beard took a look at the engine and noticed leaks and a handful of other mistakes.
So, after weeks of stress, it turns out the good-ol boys at Caprock Diesel screwed us just as bad as we thought.
And now, we wait for Toby to finish with the van. More importantly we now see the end of what has been the most fucked-up vacation ever.
On a walk to a coffee-shop Aimee mentioned how depressing this blog has been lately. She was right. I now see the end of the middle to this trip and I feel good. Stay tuned. We still have 1,500 miles to travel through 106 degree weather. I'm crossing my fingers.