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Having arrived to our new home, the skies are nothing but sunny, the air dry and breezy. I'm beginning to believe all this rain talk is just to keep out the riff-raff, at least until I mention to the locals. Watching their face drop to a meloncholic whimper, I suppose it's true. After being home for just enough time to change clothes, grab a shower and eat some granola, we're back on the road. This time California bound. We stop in Ashland, Oregon for a little time in the tent. Interesting town really, lots of very happy, very healthy people. We stop in the local food cooperative to grab some greens and then off to the woods. The site was pleasant, not too many folks to speak of; the sleep was mildly lumpy, our pads having been swiped in New York, but all in all nothing bad. We did wake up in the rain though, which just made for an earlier stomp back to the city center for a hot cup and a warm croissant.
We arrive in San Francisco that evening, the weather beautiful. A friend meets us at her place with some wine and smiles. She prepares another increadible meal, and all is well.
We should note that really the whole reason for getting back in the car, driving another two days down the coast to San Francisco was to gracefully meet Kate's sis and neice at the airport, their flight coming in from Hawaii so that we could all then converge on Guerneville, CA where her dad would be, for about 2 weeks of enjoying the climate and spirits of the California wine country.
We rise the next morning with much of the day at our disposal. Our only commitment is SFO in the evening. We decide to walk, and walk we did, about 9 hours of it that day. Having never really understood San Francisco we both thought it woud serve us well to hit it two by two. After making it the Haight we slip into Golden Gate Park where we receieve the call, that we wouldn't be needed at the airport because again, the sis missed the flight and wouldn't be joining us at all for these weeks. I breath a sigh of frustration, having reached the end of my car patience and knowing we could have come half as far. The park was lovely. We see the DeYoung Museum.
Delicately re-creating our entire apartment in the unfound corners and pockets of our modestly sized sedan seemed impossible. Negotiating that car through the paved roadways of middle america, connecting the mega churches, strip club truck stops, fly populated restrooms and 24 hr. shitholes further narrowed the possibility of success, however, that brand of scepticism is reserved for all the faint hearted, rubber legged and soft bellied in the world...not THE BOOKITS.
DAY 1
Beginning at 8:00 am we rise. Our apartment easy fell into many catagories, packed would not be one of them. Our confidence was high though, after 6 months of soul sucking wind, the sun came out and the day had some promise . Dawning costumes of rags we begin.
As we begin our arm filled trips from 6th floor walk-up to street level sedan, we are forced rely both on our bodies and our minds. Our bodies prepared with a year of constant commute, our minds honed with the pre-pubescent knowledge of TETRIS. The most prized possesions distilled to no more than a series of L-shapes, T-shapes, long things, and squares of varying colors.
Doing this with two people in Manhattan can produce myriad of logistical problems. First, knowing that one person must stay with the car, keeping a scowl on their face showing any and all of the most viscous scars exhibiting a 'DON'T FUCK WITH ME AND MY SHIT' attitude is key. This then leaves one person to move all the shapes from the sixth floor to the car. We both will attest to the relative ease of moving the heavy stuff down the stairs rather than up, however, the constant droidal return started to get the best of us.
Day bleeds to night, we lock up the car and make what we thought would be one of the last ascents to apt #22 for some eats, maybe a few beers and smiles with friends before we drive back to brooklyn, our last destination before heading west. The food was warm, the beers cold, but in our last trip to the roof taking in the neighborhood we were about to leave, a friend notices no reflection coming from the rear passsenger side window of the curbed car.
The window was in fact gone, leaving nothing more than pea sized pieces on the sidewalk and a somewhat lighter load in back seat of the car. Who ever it was that broke the window had an uncanny expertise. Stealing three bags, they managed to fleece us of the two bags we prepared for the 6 day trip across the country and requisite shoulder bag containing computer, notebooks and sanity.
Returning to Brooklyn now with a gaping hole in our car, I'm forced to rouse my dad from his slumber to tell him the bad news and we find ourselves in a bit of a bind. It's now 4 am(a mere 20 sleepless hours from the time we started) and we're back on the street, our car as vernerable as a lame sheep lying outside a slaughterhouse. In an act of chivalry my dad offers to sit in the car for the 3 hours as we go up to my sisters to catch a few winks. Amazingly all is well til daybreak.
DAY 2
The next day we fashion a makeshift window of Home Depot's best plexiglass, and finish what was left in apt #22, before leaving NYC with little reminiscence. Our destination: College Station, PA for a little RandR with a friend. We arrive around 11 p.m. as she is setting the table with an impressive spread of food we throw back about 3 much needed beers. We eat, we sleep.
DAY 3
I awake with the slight nudge of having gotten my ass kicked the two days previous. Not a real big deal, just some soreness and a turning stomach. It took only a few hours before things were sprinting out of me in every available
outlet. A primer before 6 days on the road. We nestle ourselves in at the motel 6.
DAY 4
On the Road...
DAY 5
And again...
DAY 6
DAY 7
DAY 8
We arrive...our new home.
backstage, statues lined up
winners
grand prix winning sculpture
outdoor animated installation taking place in the second story window
