Road trips rock. They’re fun, unpredictable, chaotic and bone-jarring all at the same time. You feel exhilarated one minute and exhausted the next. If they make a movie of this one day it will have to be a comedy because I had a ton of fun, although I doubt we’ll pitch it to Disney. Popping Vicodin while cruising down the road in an RV doesn’t sound like their kind of movie.
Any road trip is going to have its highs and lows. Here are some of mine:
Meeting fans from all over the globe, well, certainly from as far away as Ajax, ON to Elizabethtown, KY. It turned out that included some of the booksellers as well which was an extra bonus.
Only getting to spend a few minutes talking with people before having to saddle up and move on to the next town.
I’m still vibrating from spending a solid 12 days in a succession of planes, cars, RVs and trains.
I can make my own shakes without a blender.
Spending time with my parents.
Spending time with my parents. OK, I’m kidding. They really are spectacular. It was my father who said we should double back and check out the museums which turned out to be a brilliant move because I discovered a fascinating military museum, and it was my mother who insisted I go see a dentist about my tooth. Vicodin…really cute dental assistant…need I say more.
Toothache that had me wishing for a pair of pliers so I could yank the burning piece of hell from my mouth.
Meeting Dr. Corey and his staff Ava, Cindy, and Amy at their Ft. Wayne, IN clinic and being prescribed the lifesaving medications of antibiotics and painkillers. I don’t know how those folks who don’t believe in science do it.
The rough tally for the trip works out like this:
3 books in the trilogy
4 doors in the truck we drove in pulling the trailer. It offered everyone a clear view and control over a window as well as an egress. Very important on road trips.
5 plus another 30 equals the number of bookstores visited
6 x 50 equals the number of books signed
7 is the number of times my mother asked me to explain again what the difference between a tweet and a blog was
8 is what we did at restaurants and locales as diverse as my brother’s house in Belleville, ON to a blurred mix of fast food restaurants along the 401, I 69, I 24, I 65, and I 16 which included such discoveries as side salads at McDonald’s and fried apple pieces which turned out to really be baked at Cracker Barrel.
9 equals the scale from 1 to 10 for the pain in my tooth before seeing Dr. Corey
10 x 250 equals the approximate distance covered in miles, x 150 equals the same distance in miles
11 is just the start of the number of people at S&S in the US and Canada who helped along the way
12 is the number of the lane we picked when crossing the border which turned out to be fast and friendly
13 x 20 equals the number of photographs I took at the Kruse Victory military museum
14 is the number of pretty women I fell in love with along the way
15 on a scale of 1 to 10 every time I paused to consider how very odd it was that we were camped out in a Walmart parking lot, and that we weren’t the only ones
16 times I was amazed at how my father was able to maneuver that monster RV in and around parking lots designed for cars. 16 is also the number of times my mother cautioned my father on maneuvering that monster RV in and around parking lots designed for cars.
1,000 fan mark crossed on FaceBook while out on the road!
1,000,000 is the number of thank yous I’d like to extend to all the amazing people we met along the way. From booksellers to truck drivers, waitresses to fellow RV-ers, from fans to dentists, from the information ladies in the rest area huts all along the highways to the airplane pilots and train engineers, and most of all, to my parents, for having sex. I may not like to think about it, but if you hadn’t gotten busy one night, I wouldn’t be here.
The Iron Elves are off the road and sitting comfortably in a bar. As one, they raise a glass to you, their readers.