Road Trip Day One: Tonawanda, NY--> Cleveland, OH-->Chicago, IL-->Beloit, WI

The Brianmobile left Tonawanda, NY for San Jose, CA at 8:26 am on June 3, 2009. Before leaving, I'd put almost $1000 into getting the car into tip top shape (or, more accurately, as good a shape as a 9-year-old car with 95,000 miles that I really haven't done a whole lot of maintenance on can be in). I got the A/C in order, replaced a tire, got it washed inside and out, and fixed something on the inside that I didn't really know what it was, but my car guy said I needed. And car guys never lie.


~~~Would you doubt anything my mechanic said?~~~

Three hours later, a mere 1/40th of the way through the 6-day trip, I was on the phone with AAA (my membership was, it turns out, a well-thought out gift from my mom less than a month before). I'd never had any trouble with my car, over the past 9 years. Yet, here I was, three minutes past Cleveland, OH, convinced that I was not going to make it to San Jose.



Amanda (a very good friend of mine and, as it turns out, fantastic road-tripping partner) and I had just finished a very nice picnic lunch on the Cleveland waterfront (very nice, that is, if you don't count the Giant Ohioan Mutated Death Bugs of Death and Destruction that were attacking us and our picnic lunch and quite certainly, I'm convinced, going to eat us alive if I hadn't threatened them with my very manly biceps), when we hopped it the car for the rest of the ride to our ultimate Day 1 goal: Chicago.

~~~Bug of Death Attacking Cleveland, OH Resident~~~

Three minutes later, in my rearview mirror, I spotted a suspiciously smoke-like substance wafting up from the back of my car. My car does not generally have suspiciously smoke-like substances wafting up from the back of it, so I pulled over to investigate the problem. With much difficulty. Because it seems that my power-steering system had blown. Or something. I wasn't sure. Because I know nothing about cars.

~~~I don't know much about cars. But I know this isn't good.~~~

I called AAA, and then set up the chairs, tent, sleeping bags, and grill to wait for the notoriously slow AAA tow truck guy.

~~~Waiting for the Tow Truck Guy~~~

He was there in less than 8 minutes.



Since we'd already had the grill set up, I offered him a hot dog. He obliged. He towed my car to the car place, no trouble. They told us to come back in an hour; it would be an easy job to reattach the power steering hose. We went for a walk, came back in an hour (after a round 2 bout with the Death Bugs), and he said to us: “All right. Just gonna take her for a quick spin around the block to make sure everything's okay, then she's all yours.” I didn't bother to correct him that the Brianmobile is definitely a male. Granted, a somewhat effeminate male. But a male, nonetheless.

~~~The Brianmobile: Not a "she"~~~

After a quick whirl around the block, the car guy pulled back into the parking lot shaking his head. Car guys shaking their heads is not usually a good sign. It's usually an expensive sign. Sure enough we “probably have to replace the power steering pump.” I asked him if I could get to San Jose on the one I had. He said “probably.” That was enough for me. I had an 8 o'clock show in Chicago to get to. We pulled out of the car place, using all of our might to turn the steering wheel and headed toward Chicago.



We were worried about getting to Chicago in time for the 8 o'clock Second City show. The GPS had us getting there at 7:58. We got there at 6:58. Turns out there're these newfangled things called “Time Zones.” They work kind of like time-traveling machines. But you can't go anywhere you want whenever you want. You can only travel back in time an hour at a time at certain times. Time Zones must be run by the same people who manage my frequent flier miles.



So, we got to Chicago with plenty of time to spare, found a parking space with relative ease (quite a feat in Chicago), and headed to the Second City show. Which was fantastic. Super funny stuff. Totally worth the ticket price (which wasn't all that much for anything in Chicago; probably cost less than a hotdog on the street would've). Improv at its best. Comedy at its almost-best. Go see it if you get the chance.



The plan was to sleep in a tent the whole way out there, and save a bunch of money. But we didn't really plan ahead, and weren't really sure how the whole camping thing worked. Turns out they frown upon camping on the shoulder of the Interstate. So we hit up a motel in the fine city of Beloit, WI. Which mostly consists of gas stations and motels for people who had planned on camping somewhere between Chicago and Minneapolis, but decided to pull over and find a motel instead.

~~~Penalty for Sleeping on the Shoulder of the Interstate. Apparently.~~~

Tomorrow: Minneapolis (or: “Fish on the Roof”)