Random notes from the road…I get pulled over by the cops; my CD player breaks … and I find a town I hate as much as Tucson.

Part Five

I was a few hours north of Phoenix and testing the suspension on my Lexus on AZ 377, a flat, wide open route in the high country where you can actually see for miles and, more significant, spot State Troopers before you get close enough for them to clock you on their evil radar guns. This bode well for me and my mission of shaving off at least two hours from the ETA on my GPS unit. Thankfully, the voice on my GPS, a British babe who normally barks at me when I miss a turn, didn’t mind my excessive speed, only because I turned off that feature before I left town.

Occasionally checking my ETA, which was going back in time every few miles while my eyes scanned the horizon for cops, I was convinced the ten hour trip to Colorado Springs, CO would be end up being eight at best, even with two planned stops.

The cruise control set at 80mph, light traffic in both directions, I dropped the Clash in my CD player and cranked up the volume to a deafening level. I didn’t see a parked car for 50 miles, which meant no radar guns, no tickets and I could start stealing time back from my GPS… and enjoy some soothing punk rock.

At mile marker 31 on AZ 377, the conversation went like this:

Trooper: “In a hurry?”

Me: “No Sir, just lost track of my speed…sorry”

Trooper: “You were doing 79 in a 65.”

Me: “Really? That’s odd.”

Trooper: “Thanks for pulling over before I caught up with you, I hate chasing people”

Me: “No problem, Trooper (name withheld). I saw you in my rear view mirror turning around and I knew I was busted.”

Trooper: “Where you headed?”

Me: “Um, going to Denver to catch a Rockies game. It’s the fourth game of a 20 game trip I’m taking this month. I’m gonna write a book about the trip...”

Trooper: “REALLY? Are you going to see the Tigers? What’s the name of the new stadium?”

Me: “Comerica Park. And yes, I’m going to see the Tigers … Love the Tigers, I was born in Michigan. Are you from Michigan?”

Trooper: “Comerica, that’s it. I’m from Michigan and I love the Tigers, too. What part of Michigan are you from?”

Me: “Um, I’m not really sure, moved to Arizona when I was two but I still love everything that is Michigan. By the way, any chance you could give me a warning?”

Trooper: “Sure can but I have to run you through the system first to make sure you don’t have any warrants.”

Me: “Sweet. I can assure you I’m as clean as they come.”

The trooper came back a few minutes later, had me sign a warning and told me to please use my cruise control. I wanted to jokingly tell him I was using my cruise control but I somehow maintained my composure.

I stopped in Albuquerque, N.M. for gas and to buy a handheld recorder so I wouldn’t have to steer with my knee while I jotted down notes on a small note pad. The stop set me back about 15 minutes, not including the 10 minutes I spent chatting with the Trooper in Arizona, which meant I needed to make up some time and fast. The only problem: Everyone in N.M. drives 15 mph under the posted limit, which meant no pace cars to follow. Again, I set the cruise control at 80, scanned the horizon for cops and dropped Snoop Dogg for some soothing rap.

I was dying to play with my new digital recorder, a safer method of taking notes while driving, but I couldn’t get the darn thing to work. As I was reading the instructions, putting in batteries, fidgeting with the gadget and using my knee to steer my car, I passed a parked trooper. “OK, I probably deserve this one,” I thought. The likelihood of escaping with two warnings in one day isn’t good, especially when the trooper saw me holding the instructions with both hands.

I thought about pulling over, again, but I decided to take a chance I wasn’t clocked, even though I saw his radar gun pointing directly at me. My rearview mirror, the bearer of all bad news, displayed a speeding black car with flashing lights quickly approaching me with anger and disdain. Just as I was about to pull over, the cop flew by me doing about 120 mph, apparently heading to something more interesting than me. Another ticket avoided…and a pace car to follow at an unreasonable speed for the next 30 minutes.

Four hours south of Colorado Springs, just south of Las Vegas, N.M., something worse than a speeding ticket occurred: My CD player stopped working. My preference would be five speeding tickets in one day over being forced to listen to static and/or country music for the three straight hours, which is exactly what I did until I picked up stations out of Colorado Springs. Country music isn’t horrible, I actually like it in moderation, but it seems I heard the same songs over and over. It wasn’t all bad, though; the silence gave me an opportunity to test the digital recorder.

Fatigued from being on the road since 5:00 a.m., and upset over the CD player taking a dive on me left me distraught, which is evident by the 30 plus digital notes I recorded.

Here are a few of them:

Digital Note 1: “Test, test, test, this thing sucks!”

DN 2: “Las Vegas ahead, sweet! Oops, wrong Las Vegas.”

DN 3: “Driving though Las Vegas, N.M and I have to say it’s a dump. No casinos, unlike the 50 I saw on I-40…N.M. has more Indian gaming than El Cajon, CA has donut shops.”

DN 3: “CD player still not working. I hate Lexus.”

DN 4: “Listening to a country station and it appears the lyrics from the last 85 songs are very similar. Something about a pickup truck, some girl walking out on someone, somebody’s daddy is gonna shoot somebody for cheating on somebody and whatnot, and tons of beer and whisky references. My CD player is still broken.”

DN 5: “Pressed the eject button on my CD player for the 100,000 time and the thing still won’t work.

DN 6: “Reminder to trade in Lexus as soon as I get back to Phoenix.”

DN 7: “Punching the CD player doesn’t work.”

DN 8: “Finally, a non-country station…but I was just forced to listen to a “You Babe” by Styx. I now remember why I hated them in high school, they suck.”

DN 9: “Just jammed a knife in my CD player and it still doesn’t work. Gotta think of something else soon or I’m gonna lodge a pencil in my eardrum!”

DN 10: “Not sure the name of the song but it was Chicago and they still suck.”

DN 11: “I wish my CD player felt pain.”

DN 12: “I’m tired of driving and I’m tired of pressing the stupid eject button.”

DN13 “Tornado warning in Pueblo, CO…I hope it hits my car and fixes the CD player.

DN 14: “PS just found a town as gross and ugly as Tucson: Pueblo, CO…man this place smells funny.”

DN 15: “Finally, Rage Against the Machine …now we’re talking.

DN 16: “Last note before I throw this digital recorder out the window, I’m reading the owner’s manual and it says if the CD player displays an “Error 3” message, there’s something wrong inside the device and I should eject the CD. #$%#@ Lexus."

Surprisingly, I reached my destination without getting a ticket or dying, and I did it under 8 hours…

NEXT STOP: Coors Field (June 12, 2009)