Day 2: Shall we be conquered by Sac-Town?

Buoyed by the Pirate Party, we cut careful swathes up the I-5 in our prized Honda and Scion (mine, totally not the box one). Good lord, I had thought San Diego a bleak prospect when one leaves the moneyed areas, but it is no competition to the wanton barrenness that defines the middle part of California. Certainly, I am aware of the unadorned nature of the "flyover states" separating New York from Frisco, but the middle of Cali is awful enough to convince one that even Laura Ingalls Wilder had it good landscape-wise. Sure, we could have taken a little detour and visited Death Valley for the sheer cheek of it, but none of us wished to prolong our tour through the 98 degree (it's nearly october, dammit) impersonation of a blank slate.

As we hit the pillows on discomfiting (and alarmingly small) hotel mattresses, I would like to send a shout-out to cousin J who may or may not be getting blind drunk at this very second. I shall never forgive you, sir, if you vomit in my car.