Bitching.

Since I only write nice things here, it must be surprising to you two reading this shit, that I am fucking sick of Peter.

On the first trip, the bad headlights made me a daytime driver, the coding did a lot to help out on the city miles, but nothing for the Canada style. I had this post all written out in my mind, but then yesterday happened.

You see, I am truly a horrible person. One of my best friends is a Korean, to him I try to offer my dogs as lunch at least once a day. He is a nice man, he calls me dump enough fucktard to forget an ear from my kid ( My son has microtia  so he is kinda right more than I am.), helps me out with his medical stuff more than anyone since there is a minor language barrier when I do it all alone. He actually receives the emails from the docs as we do, and then he spends hours on explaining things to me when I freak out.

I get out of tickets, I sometimes don't even slow down when my RD goes off just to see, how it plays out.

Tara said in her thread that she's never met anyone who's as extrovert as I am, and she was wrong. I've been told in my life I'm a lot of things but see, this is the life of a blond.

I've been hit on so many times in my life by men and by boys, those and cops kinda blend in. It's a game. I get to do what I want, and who cares about anyone else?

Now unlike even I think, I have more than one friend.

This is what happened to an other friend of mine.

He parked his car within the spot, he got out, he was told by the guy behind him, that his car will be hit if he doesn't move forward (he was in the spot, clearly). The dude wanted to park in the front without blocking an entry, which is cool, he just went about it wrong all the way.

Now, my friend is a car guy, he knows how much space he needs to leave so the one in front of him is needed for the one in front to get out. He also knows very well that his passport says American.

So, a white guy does this to him, after telling him to move, and after being rude?

See a white guy? he left without a ticket.

My friend had a scratch and he got basically told that because his blood lines are not from here, he should be happy.

He got insulted in front of people, the white guy hit him and went to his flat without reporting it, and nothing was given to the one causing trouble?

Yes, let's use me as the counter argument.

I'm mildly blond with a bad mouth and a kind attitude. There are not many states left where I have not been pulled over without a ticket. Fun for me, so much fun.

In my country it for like this.

We have a few cops, and no court will ever let you off if they caught you since they know, and we all know you were speeding in the wrong place. You also lose your license there if you go to zebras when it's not your turn. Rough city rules. We know it, and we play by them. Tickets are big. Like really big.

I've been pulled over so many times I can't count that high. I can pass as a female on a good day, so that helps, but here is what my Asian friend had to go through.

The white man was given no fault.  As for my friend: He got abused verbally,and his car was hit. Cops show up, and go "Mmm Kay.. Lets leave it."

He has to go through their superiors and through a court to get anything moving.

Now, I was told this is the land of the free.
I should be excluded too.

Tara's first fishing lesson.

On Friday I went to fetch my car. He had been at the dealership for an engine light for the week and I had an awesome rental Jeep I didn't want to take with me to our extremely well planned weekend fishing trip up north Washington.

After getting him freed from the jail known as the dealership, I was merely trying to make him use units I recognize and the damn engine light came back on. It took serious effort to get him out, the hair was whirled and I had to be nice and all that effort for nothing. I don't mean to sound bitter, but after I had done all that, the engine light coming back on felt like a slap. Damn Peter is kicking my ass.

On Saturday I was up at six, had my coffee and mentally prepared a shopping list of all the things I needed to get for our fishing trip. Sadly I have all the gear in the world in Finland, here nothing so shopping could not be avoided.

Anyway, at one o'clock I was all packed up with groceries included and my goal was to hit the road for all of a hundred miles and be at the cabin early to set up everything, so when my friend Tara would arrive, we could go straight to the main activity, fishing.

The lovely Jeep I have now made the 100 miles take me over four hours, mainly because shifting lanes was nearly impossible for the lack of power. Also, that thing handles sidewinds like nothing I've experienced in my life besides a C4 Picasso Citroen. The brakes were excellent I'm sure, since I am not brave enough to test them.

5.30, two and a half hour after we were supposed to meet at the cabin we rented, I made it there.

One happy driver, one not so much.

We set up my tent, since I truly sleep better outside and since it was going to rain why not go for the luxury, went for a walk, ate and my jalapenos tried to kill yet an other person. Since she is not big on kitchen stuff and I am, I was chopping jalapenos into the bacon pasta, and asked if she want's a few on the side too (I usually put a few extras to cook on the side, a trick I use while cooking for the kids to not make the whole dish too spicy for them) after tasting one that apparently was a mild one I was chopping, she told me I was wrong, those were green peppers.

It was a beautiful place for sure.

After dinner, she agreed with me about them being jalapenos, and after we had a long discussion about me never trying to kill her again, we moved on to more important subjects.

 I told her my expert theories about fishing ( fake it till you make it, and if you don't even then lie.) and she was extremely impressed with the amount of my knowledge.

Since this was mainly us getting to be idiots with no tiny men running around, I talked Tara into drinking a bottle of red with me, and a half way to an other, we talked about life and went to sleep. Great you might think?

The next morning our brave 5am fishermen were sleeping, as we did all the way to about 10 am.  After that, we collected our things, and went to look for a bait shop, a place to buy licenses and after failing in both, we went to her family cottage determined to at least have a chance in wetting out hooks.

So there we were, two women with a goal. Our gear would not leave the place brand new, and we would surely earn the title for the best non bimmer related fishing trip of the year.

I often have moments where I know I need to shut up or I will regret it, and since this trip was starting to be full of them, I kinda was not in full strength of the mind or body when we were leaving the cabin and asked Tara to drive very, very slowly so I could keep up ( She drove like a mad woman from hell. I know for sure she went over 30 mph once.) and we proceeded to the beach while I was making fun of her bringing chairs for us.

There is my macho fishing partner.

By twelve we saw water finally, and after an hour, we were done. We had gone through enough mud to last a life time and after I pulled her off again and I told her going to a grocery store is the only way we are going to have fish pictures to show from this disaster.

So there we sat, looking at our shoes and comparing notes on how this weekend was supposed to go, and we came to the conclusion that being in Washington screwed us over, so we are doing this again in Vancouver in a week or two.

All in all, a fuckup. A fun one, but a fuckup and a load of mud.

See how happily she's sitting in her portable chair?

See, my boots look clean. but wait.

yeah, cleaning before using.

So, no lures went into the sea, no lake was found, everything was messed up, but fuck I haven't had a female friend I can truly enjoy life like Tara. That is worth a lot of mud.

Anna

Damn you Canada!

When I first drove there I knew exactly what to expect. I had brushed up on my manners, I had about five sentences memorized I could perform (the word was chosen carefully) without a cuss word in it, I had packed suitable clothing to be worn while in public in a civilized country.

My local contacts spent a lot of time teaching me the speeding rules and what is the limit of being utterly screwed and for all of that I'm very grateful. The lessons were much appreciated though momentarily forgotten at times.

The thing nobody warned me about was my horrible experience with the food back there.

When we moved here a year and a half ago, it took me a few months to start eating here. Everything everywhere tasted awful because of the bad ingredients and I swear I could taste the hormones and antibiotics in meats. I still can not drink anything else but  non fat organic milk and that my friends is about 2 times more expensive here than petrol. Canada brought back this problem.

My minor issues with headlights have been documented with the precision only I manage to achieve as can be seen here but on the first part of my journey those were bad in a way I did not see happening even after having (was going to use the word seeing, but that was a bit strong) my first wildlife encountering.

Sure, my beloved bank made being in petrol stations a hobby which I hope I won't return to, sure the names of the places were planned to keep people out. Sadly those become minor issues compared what I started to call in my head The Curse of Tara not long after leaving Vancouver.

I'm taking back my high evaluation of her now since I'm sure she did it on purpose. She took me to a night market as told before, a  great part of the Asian food culture there. Since she didn't see me eating much because of her slowness she thought I hated it, when the problem was the usual mom problem of eating faster than the speed of light. Except one thing she gave me, all textures were excellent and even when we were on a damn market, an outside market, the feeling of being home was there.

If you don't know anything about Finnish food culture, here are a few quick lessons.

* We kick our kids ( male) out of the house when they finish high school to army and they all go nicely since the food made by mom is so bad. I remember looking at my plate when living with my parents many, many times thinking this will surely finish me off. The female ones get an education fast to get the financial means to get food in the table and to buy a cook book. The women are smart so they lose their ability later in life just to get the pups go away when the time comes.

* When I moved out of my parents house, I had one set of forks and knives, a spoon, a puppy, a frying pan, puppy food and a cook book my first grade teacher gave me as a present (she came to dinner to my parents house once, and I do believe she as an educator wanted better things for the next generation). My first attempts in being an independent adult were so bad, the puppy who followed me to the states later shared her food with me on nights when I actually wanted to go back to my parents to get fed.

* Finns never use any spices and the textures are usually mildly or very disgusting. I still remember the first time I had this weird thing called Jalapeno.

On my way to Calgary I seemed weirdly hungry all the time. At first I thought it was Tara not feeding me properly, but after a few hundred kilometers I realized there was a pattern. It seemed weird to walk out from a petrol station without having at least an apple in my hand, next thing I knew was I was stopping (for 45 minutes every time since the bank kept shutting down my accounts) to get some milk, ice cream, hell once I bought a 350 g or something of cheese and ate it all on my way to the next stop 100 km away.

When I hit Calgary, after driving almost 45 minutes with a mere snack within my reach, I got it. Tara had cursed me with taste again. That sneaky tiny thing got me in a few hours back to eating like a lunatic and things started to be quite desperate when I hit Saskatoon. The man behind the handle M4TW took me out for a breakfast, and got enough milk into me to last for hours. By lunch time when we met again, I swear to coffee (not canadian, that's still shit) I did not know Ukraine exported anything else but bad news about tiny nuclear accidents. After he gave me a short introduction to their food culture, a few atom related news from the past will not get in my way while exploring more of their delicacies.

Now you see a pattern. Now you know why the headlights become an issue. It is truly hard to spot the next place one can get food when your lights are not bright enough and also, the only option for me to cover any miles was to do long days, with multiple fuel (and not just for the car) stops.

Just before Thunderbay while eating a truck drivers dinner his wife had packed for him, I realized this was becoming a big issue. Before hitting the border I had to face the fact that if I was to see Wyoming again which was my dream drive for this trip, I needed to come up with a way to handle my minor food related issues again, and not a damn thing I will write here will explain to anyone how bad it got. I was doing 8 meals per day after Vancouver, and a few snacks in between. If I say I was on five liters of milk routine it would probably be quite correct.

Here all tastes the same, it's bland mixed with badness and there is no place in Canada where the ingredients are not better. Even the food on a truck stop is worth every penny, and I assure you, I did my testing on this too.

I was in Canada for 6 or so days, and I didn't fit into any of my clothes when I reached the border.

When I returned home I was 4 kg's under the weight I left with ( hubby dearest weight me since the last time I apparently lost too much weight so in order to go again he set up parameters I had to meet) because all I could eat on the road was chicken wings, wings, wings, wings and WINGS. Those sauces hide the bad taste well enough and while eating at the mother pace ("thanks, can you just go and charge me for this straight away, since I tend to eat faster than the speed of light") they are not that terrible.

I see you three reading this shaking your heads, you all think I'm full of shit. Well yes, I was then (don't analyze that one please, it would give too much meaning to all those photos with potable potties) but here are my pics from the states outside Wyoming:

Now, at home I'm on Jalapeno diet again. This photo could've been taken at breakfast, lunch or just now, at dinner since apparently all I do for me are these:

The awful plastic thingy is filled with coffee, the only thing that is better in America when compared to Canada.

 So yes, this all is Tara's fault as you can see. I will have my revenge this weekend while we are going fishing. Even the weather is working for me since after this extreme dry period we've had in the north west, next weekend is filled with apocalyptic rain.

I merely want you all to be aware, eating abroad has risks we can't calculate or prepare for.

Anna

(and really, it's all her fault. it just is.)

Math

Average speed is something you don't ever want to calculate, that is addicting and in the really long trips like yesterdays 1100 km, you'll always be disappointed.


example one. 400km to a relatives birthday. You know there will be food there so you skip eating on the road. One tank of petrol is enough and if you can go without a toilet break, you'll easily hit your goal.


example two: Anna wants to go home
1100 km's is 2-3 fillups, two chicken wing hunts, 5-7 times gotten lost, 5 battles again Candy, two toilet breaks, 3 coffees and one phone call to my trusted navigation helper. His wife likes me so he had to sort me back home.


I averaged only 78 miles per hour. I know now why I didn't get stuck in traffic, it was because everyone was faster than me. :(


The tip of the day is not to count. I feel like a grandma in a Lexus now and I am sure Peter is actually mad at me for making him look bad.

Those are from Wyoming, I truly need more time to work the damn photos into something one can publish. Funny thing is, my phone had changed settings, so all my pictures sucked until yesterday. A good thing to realize when you're almost home already.

Tonight I'll try to write up the last part of the drive, and tomorrow I'll try to write what else happened on the road. This was a great trip in all accounts, but I never had any time to write up it all on the road, so I have an update to almost every post.

Anna

Oh, don't speed, that is not nice.

A tiny change of plans.

Yesterday I woke up at three am to wait for the sun to come up. I was mildly excised about racing the sun up in my favorite place in the world, and I wasn't one bit surprised when I realized my great plans had minor issues.


I stayed the night in Cheyenne, a thriving city of five people, that is located in the far east corner of Wyoming. I did try to get the sun come up from the west for once but she was a tough cookie to negotiate with.


it was a beautiful sunrise captured from the rear view mirrors while I went aimlessly around the one state I remember the best from my travels. The landscape in there is awesome. The roads are in pristine condition and when you're outside of any town, there is no risk of cops.If you go off from the main roads, Europe at it's best has nothing on this place.

All my pics almost show the hud, so before posting those some editing is needed.

The roads were unbelievable and scenery took my breath away. I kept pulling over to take pics, and forgot to snap one.

My plan was to go through Yellowstone fast, and get a hotel/ cabin near a stream and spend the evening fishing. The road I took there was probably the best fast drive I've ever done, but since it took both hands at times at the wheel, and because no editing skills are at my disposal, I'll wait to post those up. I highly recommend that road that has a name I have already forgotten. Zero traffic so pushing my boy to new highs was easy.

Entering Yellowstone, apparently there are big forest fires close by, so this is all you can see there now.

I took the exact same shot last year on my first day on the road too. Funny how they both have zero visibility.

I was in a petrol station and I counted 53 cars passing me in 3 minutes. Let's say only 21 of those went the way I was going, so that's 7 cars per minute passing by two guys who's car had died. Nobody stopped to help them, to take them to a station to get oil they still hoped would revive their red beast in three hours and they had walked over 20 km from their car by then to get some by themselves. I was extremely impressed with us people again, since how fucking hard it is to stop, ask what's up, get the oil yourself if you don't want any strangers into your car? win the fucking humanity points you can use to score a slot in heaven later? PEOPLE: There are signs everywhere stating be aware of the bears, and two people walk miles to get help and nobody stops? Are you fucking kidding me?!

Since I'm now the official transporter of hitchhikers too, I took them get the oil, told them their car is ruined, and we packed their stuff into my well organized tiny car, and went to search for Wifi so we could find them a place to stay and a rental car.

Yellowstone had both, but sadly nothing was available, so I spent the last night impressing the two guys who probably after five minutes started hoping they had been left there to be eaten by bears with my navigational skills.

When I started my day at three am, I did not see this happening.

The car was not yet moving so they were still smiling.

The parting sunset provided by the state of Wyoming. I will miss you my friend.

My personal heaven.

Anyway, we ended up driving to the next big city, Butte (yes, I made all the jokes possible about peter going into butt, they were not impressed), we got rooms, nobody was murdered in any way and now I'm merely a few miles from home, so I might as well go. I miss my kids insanely, even if this tame time away has ensured they have a bit more fun mom to look forward to.


Oh, there was a huge traffic jam in Yellowstone. We were hoping it was a bear, since we were stuck with it for a long time. Finally when someone told me after I was cleared to go, that the cause was a coyote, Anna was adult enough to rev the fuck out of Peter to ensure they too were standing there for nothing.


a fucking coyote. You have gotta be kidding me...


Anna

Wyoming.

Gentlemen, they let me in!

Just before the state line, I managed to get pulled over for stupidity. Yup, not my first rodeo but this one was different.

See, mirrors told me I'm dealing with a female, and my first thought was jail. Rightly so, since the speed was a bit high, even if I was just passing a few trucks. We had a good chat, and she made the decision of sending me to cause havoc here rather than keep me inside Nebraska lines.

A written warning was given. If I had done that in Washington, I'd be looking for a lawyer. I think she was just so damn impressed with the balls of yarn I had to go through to get the car's papers from the glove box, and my overall excellent skills in convincing her I am an adult, she wanted me out of state.

She asked me how fast I was going, and since the only thing that can help you in those is the truth, I gave her my best estimate. I also told her that many things I can count on and one of them is that this will happen again.

I'm not writing this to brag about my luck, I completely know I deserved my fate, it was her being a really nice person that got me back to the road. Gentlemen, I do believe I have found the cop in this world that took the job to actually be good to others.


If you're lost, you know you're in Wyoming if the greeting is one like this.

"Wyoming, why the hell would that be your favorite state?"

A magnificent sunset, empty road, 80 mph speed limit (yes yes, I know how to look at the posted limits even if I do have minor issues in following them), and one hitchhiker picked up and delivered to a truck stop,  (accidentally a trucker who's ride had broken down a few miles earlier. he wanted to give me a twenty for the lift but somehow accepting money from him or any other person in the business of logistics now would feel wrong. LOL) and a hotel that has walls. I'm quite sure this place has a name, I just have seen enough of these by now that they all blend in with each other.

The sun comes up soon, and my intention is to go greet it to the roads I dream of every night when life is a bit much. Tonight, if not in jail (and yes, I will be deserving that then too) I will do my best to post good pictures. This state is a home of about 500 000 people, beautiful roads, great scenery and windswept landscape that just feels like it's screaming to tell us all it's story and the life it has seen.

I'm also happy to report my title count did not go up yesterday, though the jailbird was quite near. From a homeless to a hooker and then to jail would've been a great combination though.

Laters dudes, today is the day I've been waiting for a year. Peter is fueled up, and warming up outside, Danzig is playing in the car, my backpack is on my feet and the road calls.

Anna

Career advice for the young.

I've had the two the most hilarious days of my life.

Yesterday after I pulled out of St Louis, Peter decided he is not a car but a Christmas tree, and turned on warning lights I've not seen with him ever. I got him to a dealership, and they checked him out even if my poor vocabulary to describe the situation they came on got mildly in the way. This all naturally made the drive to Wyoming turn into a dream instead of a drive, I was stuck in traffic all the damn day.

A great service department at the Autohaus BMW in St Louis, but I do not recommend this as a holiday destination to anyone.

 "

Hello Ms,

My name is **** and I am a Front Office Manager at the Hilton Columbus Downtown and I wanted to touch base with you regarding your less than stellar guest service experience at the front desk last night. I sincerely apologize for this and hope that it did not leave you with a negative impression of our hotel, or Hilton in general."

 I told her I hope she is not too hard on the poor girl, since sadly my road trip look is one of a street person rather than a person with any financial means. I'd say something about judging a book for it's cover, but meh, who gives a fuck. As said earlier, I have always gotten along with the staff of any hotel, except in this one incident. I told her shit happens, and that she probably won't do that again and that that's good enough for me.

In Canada, if one pulls into a truck stop, the truckers bend over backwards to help you. They tell you the routes, the roadworks, cops lookout places, hell they share their dinner if needed ( yes, I ate a man's home cooked meal in a damn stop somewhere in Canada, since the next diner was 20 km's away!) In the USA, things are a bit different.

It takes a special person to become a long distance truck driver, I'm actually not sure what I mean by special, since unlike their peers in Canada the men here operate differently.

My first contact with this great set of chaps was last year on my way to Yellowstone. At 2 am or so, I pulled up into their stop in my rental to stretch my legs, and watched them shake and pop pills while trying to get down from what ever they had been popping to stay awake. Nice, made the roads truly seem like the safe environment they always are here.

I learned from that, no more night stops at truck places, not the best move. Damn Canada just ruined all things I've become to think as normal for me by being so European.

Yesterday I had the best of luck in life and I had a stone stuck in my car's heat shield. It sounds horrible every time, but after the car has cooled off for a bit, it usually is a quick thing to fix.  My mechanical skills stretch from cussing to a taking off a tire which was not needed in this case ( and I wouldn't have had the tools anyway)and to poking the heat shields to get what ever is stuck to come out. I have learned finally to let the damn car cool off first, and while waiting, the lovely professionals of transportation approached me with offers of giving them "a good time".

It appears TV has given me a completely wrong impression of the ladies who entertain these gentlemen. I was under the impression one needs to be a drug addict, and in a quite bad shape with the addiction until the ladies end up working in these conditions, and I thought a night time, or even an evening would be a better time to exercise this profession.

In the middle of the day, four different men approached me asking my price. I found it extremely classy and quite flattering, I must be really good if I can make M4 money by spreading my legs at a truck stop at day time. I asked one of them what was giving them this idea, and his answer was "You're a chick in a stop."

Clearly long distance truck drivers here make a ton, and I suggest this profession to everyone. if they can entertain ladies with my taste just like that money must be excellent. Most people end up marrying demanding bitches like me and still never get lucky. My tip of the day is to consider a profession in logistics.

I got the gravel away from the shield, off I went. I'm sad to report that I decided not to take them up on their great offers.

I also spent hours on looking for the damn buffalo wings, since the taste of food served anywhere in Canada is still haunting me. I truly am afraid hunger will kill me if the sheer memory of a taste makes me drive around looking for something that resembles food and a sauce that hides the poor ingredients used. All in all, wins all around.

It appears Chevrolet is the replacement for moose here. I've spent the last day looking at those logos and honestly, the people behind the seats, just looking at their expressions give out a  good insight of why the car was bought instead of the many options available. Anyone who can appear as unattached to their surroundings as these drivers are, should probably consider walking. I did take a fuckload of pictures about them being stuck, but they are such a usual sight here, why post them up, you've all seen them anyway.

This year I found Kansas city.

That picture was taken while speeding away from it. It looked beautiful but after all the Chevrolet drivers, I was in a hurry to chase this one.

No, i was not reversing and chasing, but the picture was too beautiful not to post, it has the sky in it I was trying to capture, and we all know how rare that is with me.

Thunderstruck was playing on repeat (I'm pathetic) and the most beautiful storm rolled over me. It was such a heavy rainfall I pulled over to watch this. Peter, I'm happy to report, is for once clean again.

Anyway, from a homeless to a prostitute and from a prostitute we will see what. My titles are getting quite interesting.

Today, if Peter doesn't come up with a new lovely habit again, I will finally get to go to my favorite place in the world. Wyoming. If not, and my plans always seem to fail, I'm done trying and stop dreaming of that state.

Anna