It was Friday, so I now had to go to the campus and register for my classes, which was thankfully uneventful. Afterwards I returned home and we spent the rest of the weekend unpacking, going to the beach, and securing a new pot dealer.
First thing Monday morning, I called the repair shop in Dunn to check on the status of the truck. “Yep, she’s all ready.” I was told. We had to mentally gear back up to get back in the car and drive 11 hours back up to Dunn, get the truck, and drive 11 hours back. I would have rather had someone shove a dirty stick in my rectum while simultaneously watching Willard Scott present his Smuckers Jam segment on a loop. I did not however, have that option.
At least we had actual money this time! We had only spent $40 on a quarter ounce, and another $20 on beer, so we still had the $100 we had started out with. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
And again, we’re off. We left around 5am, we were going to drive straight through, and barring any more mishaps, we would make it to Dunn by 4:00pm. We would then get the truck, spend the night, and drive straight back the next day, putting us back at home safely by Tuesday night.
We weren’t on the highway 20 minutes when it began to rain, so I reached up to roll the sunroof shut. Instead, the handle to the roller came right off in my hand, and no matter how hard we tried, we could not rig the thing to close.
We were soaking wet by the time we got off of the highway and pulled into a convenience store. We purchased heavy-duty trash bags and duct tape, and proceeded to MacGyver ourselves a sunroof. It wasn’t pretty, but it wasn’t raining in the car either, and it only cost us about $12. Ha-Ha world, take that!
Back on the highway, the only downfall to our makeshift sunroof was that about every 38 seconds it started to sag threateningly and you had to push up on it to pop the water out. And it leaked around the edges a little. Besides that it was great.
Then it started really coming down, the ominous black sky opened up and it just kept pouring harder and harder, so we were up to a roof-pop every 6 seconds. Just then, my drivers’ side windshield wiper decided to take a hard left, right off the side of the windshield, and proceeded to uselessly flip up and down between 9 and 12 o’clock.
I could not see a fucking thing, it was leaking on my head, and Paul just sat there popping away at the sunroof bag, waiting for the real storm to hit, the blonde one in the seat beside him.
He would hold the wheel and I would reach out of my window and manually redirect the wiper onto my windshield. It would cooperate for about 2 minutes each time, then again reject its duties and start fucking around on the left again, like a retarded child waving out the window.
We tried to pull over a couple of times and fix it, but we were no more certified windshield wiper repair mechanics than we were sunroof repair qualified. We likened our situation to a person with Tourette’s. You just have to put up with all the little ticks and keep on keeping on.
As we popped and flipped our way up the highway, the clouds eventually gave way to glorious blue skies and beautiful sunshine. You would have thought we just brought the Titanic in safely the way we were celebrating. We were yahooing and high-fiving and we ripped off the trash bag and let the cool breezes blow. Ha-Ha windshield wiper, we won!
The really hilarious part is that throughout these 3 hours of flipping and popping, we had only traveled about 60 miles, and we were just passing through Tampa.
We had some serious mileage to make up, and without incident we made it to Dunn.
We pulled up to the repair shop at 7:00, and it was closed.
We tried calling but just got the machine. No big deal, we would just get our room and get the truck in the morning when they opened at 8am. Who cares, we were just happy to be out of the fucking car. We checked into the good old motel shit hole, and once again, enjoyed the fine brown cuisine.