177 lines
9.5 KiB
Plaintext
177 lines
9.5 KiB
Plaintext
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= F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. =
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Death Wish 93
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Some call it the "hard road" and others know it as the road of ugly
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head-on fatalities. We are talking about Highway 93 which extends
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from Phoenix, Arizona up through Montana and into the great white
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north--Canada. The stops, much less cities, are few and far
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between with much of the route two lanes.
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It's January 9th, 1996 and in a few moments I'll be leaving Las
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Vegas where I spent a few days exploring what the Winter Consumer
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Electronics Show had to offer. My trip has lasted a little more
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than a week, taking me from my home near Fort Lauderdale, Florida
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to this "city of sin." I've put about 3500 miles on my car (yes, I
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drove) and burned quite a bit of rubber off my Bridgestone RE71's.
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So far the only casualties we've suffered, besides sickness, has
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been some damage to my bumper when I hit a high curb while parking
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my car in Zion National Park--be sure to watch the curb near the
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River Walk trail.
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Michael, my accomplice, is from Berlin, Germany and is someone I
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met over the internet. He is the only person interested in going
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with me on this drive to Las Vegas. I guess I can see why now--it
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has been a tough ride with lots of 12 hour driving days and minimal
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stops. Michael didn't talk very much on the trip which make it
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tougher on me. Thank goodness I brought a lot of CDs and tapes.
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I fucked up a turn on the airport road which I hoped Michael would
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help me navigate so I ended up dropping him off at arrivals. He
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got nervous cause all the doors said EXIT and wanted me to take him
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to departures. I told him I might get lost again and that his best
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bet was to enter the exit and find his check in area.
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Once Michael made it inside I took off. After about a week of
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traveling together I was actually glad to see him go. The
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communication gap or Michael's silence annoyed me. Sometimes
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talking to him was like talking to an invisible friend except if
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you were really lucky your invisible friend would talk back.
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It is still dark as I attempt to make my way out of the city. With
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no city map I take a guess at the road which should take me out of
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the city. After questioning my judgment for several miles I decide
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I better stop at a gas station and ask for direction. The gas
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attendant tells me I should continue on the road I am taking and I
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will make it to the highway I am searching for. I drive a few
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miles and begin to question the directions but finally see the
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highway.
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Within a couple hours I make it to my first stop--Kingman, Arizona.
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I gas up and decide to stop at a tire shop to have my tires
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rotated. The front tires (140 traction) are almost slicks on the
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side and down to the "time to replace nub" on the center grooves.
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The back tires are wearing thin too but have enough tread to make
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the rotation worthwhile.
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I'm heading east on I-40 towards my Highway 93 turn off doing about
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75-80mph and notice the tire rotation has actually provided me with
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a smoother ride. The tire shop only performed a rotation not a
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balance; definitely a good decision that will make the remaining
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2500 miles go a bit easier.
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My decision for taking Highway 93 is so I can take a different
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route home instead of I40. I could take I40 east to I17 and take
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I17 south to I10 but looking at the map that would take about an
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hour or two longer. Highway 93 looked to be the smart choice plus
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with the extra time I could stop by another national park.
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I make my turn on Highway 93 and realize not only that the speed
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limit is less but it seems to be a limitless two lane highway not
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as sparsely driven as I had hoped. Oh well, at least the
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occasional passing lane will make the ride easier.
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I do my best to maintain about 70mph on the road even though there
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is a posted 55mph limit. Sure I'm speeding but how many cops are
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going to be watching cars out in the middle of the Arizona desert?
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The long stretches of land with few oncoming vehicles allowe me to
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pass a lot of the initial backlog of trucks and campers. Sometimes
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a third lane shows up and I use it, other times I pass when it
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clear.
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Then the inevitable happens. I caught up to a truck, a camper, and
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a car doing the speed limit (55mph) and sometimes slowing down to
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45-50mph. Taking a quick peek tells me all three vehicles are too
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close together to pass one at a time so if I want to pass it is
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going to be all or nothing. Or, as a last result, I could wait for
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a passing lane. Behind these vehicles time seems to stop. Tick,
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Tick. Seconds seemed like minutes and minutes like hours. The
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road is not clearing and there are not any passing lane in sight.
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My frustration builds. Then, dead ahead I see my chance. It is a
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passing lane but for the oncoming traffic. I looked ahead and see
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no one using the passing lane so I decided my chance to pass is
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now.
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I downshift and pass the first car and truck in fourth with no
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problem. I notice oncoming traffic in the other lane but no one
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using the passing lane so I am still safe to finish the pass.
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About another half mile or maybe more of the passing lane remains.
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It is hard to tell. I do know that traffic is approaching so I
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better get moving. I shift to fifth and am doing about 80 but
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barely passing the camper. Is that fucker speeding up or is the
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slight hill holding me back I wonder. Oncoming traffic is very
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close now with a semi in the lead. The hill is getting closer and
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my time is running out; I'm now doing 85.
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All of the sudden a cold sweat starts to come over my body as I
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watch the semi and oncoming traffic approach. I see my passing
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lane end up ahead and now head is starting to feel strange like all
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my blood is racing for my head. I'm starting to tingle, my head
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feels fat, I'm sweating and my body is cold. I pull out of the
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passing lane to complete the pass at the same moment the semi pulls
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into the expanded lane (lane right of the passing lane). I finish
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the pass doing 85mph--thirty miles over the speed limit.
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Still, it wasn't fast enough for me. The tingling sensation starts
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to go away as I slow down and come to my senses. Those last few
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seconds felt like all the blood in my body went directly to my
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head. I can't describe it much better than that though it is not a
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pleasurable feeling but more of an extreme fear feeling--not
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something I care to experience again anytime soon. It was like my
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body knew death was a possibility and pumped as much blood to the
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brain to preserve it as long as possible in the case of an
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accident.
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In the miles that followed the close call I was extremely
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frightened and became really pissed with my stupidity after I saw
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"our" passing only a mile after passing the three vehicles. The
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next hour or so on Highway 93 I kept shaking my head (no) wondering
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how I come I'm so fucking impatient and why I pulled a stupid stunt
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like that (using the other vehicles lane to pass even though it is
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legal).
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The rest of my trip I kept thinking this is a sign. I've been
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given a new life or at least the opportunity to finish the old and
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start living the "new life." During the days and months that
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followed I slowly forgot about Highway 93 and my close call and my
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life went back to normal.
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Looking back I wonder if it taught me a lesson. Maybe all it
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taught me was I should have a more powerful car as one with 145
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horses is not enough. Or maybe I was just lucky that day and I
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shouldn't try to think anything otherwise. Perhaps it is me but
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something tells me it was more than luck that kept me alive. I try
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to ask "why" but there is no response. I ask what is my destiny
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and why was I spared. I look for meaning but all I get is silence.
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My new life is just my old life painted with one more stripe. I'm
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the same person with another experience, that of a death wish on
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the hard road of life.
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Looking for reason,
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Pallbearer
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= Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions =
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= Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) =
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= FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck =
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= (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. =
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