Tour Update- Pueblo, CO

Arizona is a hell-hole and I hate it and I will never go back to that state ever again. Unless it's to visit my friends Ben and Katie. Other than that, the state of Arizona can piss up a rope. It was a hundred thousand degrees outside every day, the shows were a fiasco, and for every super rad person we met, we had to deal with 100 complete douchebag idiots. Thanks, no thanks Arizona. Peace out.

Just so you know, Tempe Arizona to Pueblo Colorado is 11 hours and 19 minutes according to Google Maps.

We left Tempe last night at 8:15 PM. I drove for eight hours and Guil took over for another three. Then I drove another four. We finally fucking got here at 1:15 PM. That's fifteen hours.

In the last 36 hours, I have experienced the following:

- 1 hot and miserable (thankfully last) day in Arizona
- 1 trip with Luke and Guil out to the river in the desert (photos pending)
- 1 bird-bath in a Jack-In-The-Box bathroom, a move which was originally executed exclusively to rid my body of all the river sand stuck to the sunscreen on every inch of my skin BUT turned into me basically taking a full shower, including shaving my legs in the sink. Yeah, you heard me. What?
- 1 lengthy argument about directions
- 1 camera bag saturated with a half gallon of water (fml)
- 1 near-fight at a gas station
- 1 subway sandwich for lunch
- 1 packet of lunch meat and string cheese for dinner
- 2 packs of cigarettes
- 3 gas stops
- 5 Diet Dr. Peppers
- 5 hours of sleep
- 7 full cycles of Flexx Bronco's, My Life in Black and White's, Get Dead's and All Bets on Death's albums
- 25 repeats of Dramarama's "Anything Anything" (sorry, guys).
- 35 miles per hour up an insane elevation change between Tempe and Flagstaff. Sea-level to 7000 feet in less than 150 miles. That was totally fucking crazy and we spent an eternity in second gear trying to get the van up the mountain.
- 800 total miles
- Like 17 gallons of Vitamin Water


I will admit that I DID almost kill all of us at the beginning of our drive by nearly merging into a semi. But SERIOUSLY I did not see him in the rear-view or the blind-spot mirror, he had no running lights, and I'm blaming half that shit on him.

I was initially driving the first long shift because I wanted to watch Large Marge McSwervesalot (which I've named the van until she gets properly christened) hit the epic 400,000 mile mark on the odometer. Who the hell else is driving down the highway with nearly a half MILLION miles on their car???

Anyway, I sat there anxiously watching the dash. This is what I saw happen:

399,999.7

399,999.8

399,999.9

300,000.0


. . . "Guil, where the fuck did you get this van? I think we just went 100,000 miles back in time."

I'm totally serious. This van probably DOES have a million miles on it, but every time it's about to accurately switch digits it just jumps back to 300,000. Awesome!

We're in Pueblo now and I took a shower and a short nap and I feel like a brand new person.

My New Vice has a show tonight and is playing a wedding tomorrow at which we will all get very, very wasted. Then guess what? We get to drive home! From Pueblo! All in one stretch because everybody apparently has to work Monday.

Guess how far it is from Pueblo to Portland?
24 hours.
Yep.
(Google maps says 19, everyone in Pueblo says 24 at the absolute fastest.)

Here we go.