Las Vegas to Seattle and Back in Three Days (Part 6)

I made it to Tonopah about an hour later. After refueling, I went in the convenience store to use the bathroom and restock on snacks. I met a truck driver, and curious to measure the weight of my lunacy, asked him how long they usually drive before they're off the clock and have to sleep. He told me eight hours. I was now pushing into my 15th hour.

Having endured the road for so long, I let him know how much respect I've discovered for truckers and then went on my way. I took a backward glance the McDonald's on across the gas station, fondly remembering the time I nearly got stuck in the snow in the parking lot the year before.

I should explain that Tonopah is familiar ground, and even with my warped sense of distance, two hundred miles is enough for me to admit it's only "a bit far." This makes the Vegas > Tonopah > Rachel > Vegas circuit perfect, since it's just far enough for a good shakedown run on the cars I own, but close enough to fit in a day.

Just as I continued on US 95, a state trooper entered the freeway and pulled over a Chrysler Crossfire. I drifted past them, somewhat amused. I could swear I passed that Crossfire before. Better him than me. I'm certain I'd already been used as a guinea pig by someone on day two before, so this was another lucky break.

To remain as alert as possible, I turned the air conditioning to full blast and made it as freezing as possible, but as the miles dragged on and on, that measure became a critical requirement for me to just stay awake. This cheered me up a bit for some reason, but as I gazed at the agonizingly vast distance of the valley between where I was and the next mountain range, my enthusiasm waned yet again. Every time I'd near the mountain range, the road would swerve away from it to point me at yet another mountain range at terrible remove, again and again and yet again, and then some.

I honestly felt defeated.

Enough is enough, the voice of reason in my head insisted. This is far and beyond any shred of sanity, and you know it. Pull over and take a nap. They can ticket me if I want.

Perhaps incapacitated by the combination of sleep deprivation and hunger, I lost the ability to reason. I was so hungry I started to get a headache...but I could not stop. I'd completely forgotten about the snacks and Gatorade I bought in Tonopah. I had given everything I could to endure this, and I was so close to home but it still seemed like I was on an alien planet a billion light years away. My eyelids were burning, and my eyes ached.

At some point just outside Beatty, NV, my heart began to palpitate.

This is bad. Really, really bad, I'd thought. This is quickly becoming a very real medical emergency.

The drive was no longer fun, and was in fact dangerously close to torture. My eyes were completely blood shot, and I knew if I got pulled over it'd end badly no matter what. At worst they could suspect me of driving under the influence, and at best they'd ticket me anyway for driving while impaired.

Never again. I swore to myself, almost laughed at myself. Not like this. Never again.

Knowing this, I promised myself to just make it to Beatty and then rest, and I arrived there at 10 in the morning. Again there was nothing much to see here. A Bank of America there, a grocery store here, an old railway there. Having been before, I paid Beatty absolutely no mind except for that this is where I was supposed to find a spot to park.

I'd like to believe I did try to find a good spot, but in all likelihood I glanced at my immediate surroundings unimpressed, and then moved on.?Perhaps my mind unhinged, at this juncture I decided to place another carrot ahead of myself: make it to Pahrump, NV. It was only 69 miles away, and on my best day that's like a stone's throw away. I'd already tanked over a thousand miles, and when I looked at it in that perspective it might as well have been giving up literally at my doorstep.

Once outside Beatty, I remembered the snacks I bought in Tonopah. That was by far the best blueberry Gatorade and cheetos I've ever eaten. With every gulp and every crunch, I felt myself come back to life again. The fog in my head started to clear, my heavy eyelids no longer felt like they were on fire. Thirty miles to Pahrump, equal to a quick walk across the street compared to how far I'd driven, I started to celebrate my victory.

I got off US-95 to take US 160 on the way to Pahrump, and I should explain Pahrump to Vegas is nothing, since my usual monthly drive is Vegas > Pahrump > Indian Springs > Vegas, and a quick version of my full shakedown circuit. I've driven past here for as long as I've had a driver's license, and now I only had to drive about half of it to make it home. It was a bit of a rise on the road which must've seemed somehow symbolic to my triumph and made me ecstatic. I didn't dare forget the spirited little V6, that I'd unjustly hated the moment I laid eyes on it, had brought me here from heaven through hell and back.

I was absolutely in love with this car.

Ahead, Pahrump appeared in the high noon from a haze of dust and paper bags.

I stopped by a Burger King I frequented during my stint at CVS in Vegas as a Photo Lab Supervisor. I sat on the same parking spot I took back in 2007, when I discovered this settlement in my first car that helped me discover the joy of driving--a 2003 Oldsmobile Alero. I drove out here to just get away from the big city, to clear my head and just think, and then took the 95 all the way to Indian Springs, past Mt Charleston back to Vegas. I called my sister to let her know where I was, and then continued my way home.

I erased the remaining forty miles between Pahrump and home within an hour, up another mountain pass and then descended into the Las Vegas valley. In the final downhill run, I coasted the car and let it rest. It had done more than enough: it had helped me achieved a childhood dream I never thought I'd accomplish.

Below, I saw the familiar Red Rock Canyon, and just before that, the tiny settlement of Blue Diamond, NV. I took a left into Fort Apache Road, and then another left at the intersection of Sunset and Fort Apache to my apartment complex called Sunset Canyon. I made certain to park it close to my daily driver, and finally, battered but ultimately undefeated and proud, I glanced back at the two cars.

On the right, my 07 GT looked like an imposing brick of a muscle car--contours in sharp angular relief, glistening midnight black, tinted windows, blacked out rims. On the right, a slim, silver culmination of newer technology, sleek and refined in terms of road presence, bathed in dirt and the congealed syrupy remains of so many insects from its first strike.

Had I been in the financial position, I would've instantly bought the rental from AVIS.

It had eagerly done just about everything my GT could, and even excelled in areas mine never could out of the factory. The ride was comfortable, everything worked as expected, and its only failings were explicitly and meticulously designed to create a sizable gulf between it and the 2010 Mustang GT.

In the old days, perhaps this is how a warrior felt of his sword after a glorious battle. In my day, perhaps this is how Jeremy Clarkson, James May and Richard Hammond feel about the cars they drive on their Top Gear epic races.

This was by far the best drive I've taken so far, and I learned valuable lessons from not just about driving, but also about myself as well. I now know that in times of uncertainty, I am quite adaptable and do not cave so easily, and that not everyone out there is as inherently hostile as I believed. I also established my the 8/12 hours per driving session rule for myself, as well as learned the value of planning when embarking on a monumental endeavor. I will visit Seattle again, but this time for New Years with a couple friends to check up on another friend who moved there.

And this time, I'll know exactly what to do.

That is all.