Yesterday we loaded up, said goodbye to our belongings (hopefully not for good), and squeezed into the Hyundai for the first leg through LA rush hour traffic to Barstow on the edge of the Mojave Desert. All day today we drove through desert wilderness, past dramatic red rocks and painted cliffs. I contracted zombie syndrome in the car and spent six out of eight transit hours in a comatose stupor. We also passed up offers for petrified wood slabs, discount Indian blankets, an unseemly sounding place called "Knife City," and ostrich feedings.
Below, Greta expresses her feelings about being trapped in the car for six days:
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What a wonderful picture. I hope that the rest of the trip goes well. We used to give Rasputle drugs to knock him out for long car trips--until the time we had to pull off the side of the highway because Allison thought he was dead. He wasn't, but hasn't shut-up about the event since then.
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