We made sure to grab our winnings before hitting the road to Tucson at 11:30 that morning. The sun was really beating down on us as we zoomed across the God forsaken Nevada landscape. About 30 minutes or so outside of Las Vegas we started seeing signs for the Hoover Dam. I checked the map and our route took us right by it, so we decided to make a quick stop to check it out.
It was enormous. Before being allowed to drive up to it, you have to go through a security checkpoint that seemed way more intense than it should be. And our car full of junk didn’t exactly scream “let me through”. After the guard mistook my (unused) pull up bar covered by a towel as a machine gun (because of all people to own a machine gun it’s me), we got through and walked out onto the dam.
We stayed long enough for me to get a sunburn (4 minutes) then hit the road. It’s one of those things that once you see it you’re like “cool” but then try to make it seem cooler to other people when you talk about it. But really you know that, in the end, it’s just a dam.
The dam is on the border of Arizona and Nevada, and we parked on the Nevada side. Which is lucky for me, because it allowed me to get sweet revenge on the Nevada State sign.
We crossed into Arizona and went straight for approximately seventeen thousand miles. I was surprised not to see the Coyote getting crushed by an ACME anvil along the way. We were getting low on gas, so we stopped at a small town along the road. While we were there, I realized that I meant to put air in my tires when we left California but never did, so we drifted over to the mechanic to have him check the air pressure. He told us all was well, but that my driver’s side rear tire was 10 years old and showed signs of dry rot. Using my extensive knowledge of automobiles, I informed him that my car was 10 years old so “it probably is the original tire” (surprisingly I have no technical training). His response was “that thing could come off in 100 miles or 400 miles, I can’t really tell – especially in this heat.” Well guess what mechanic. 3000 miles later it was still on my car. Sucker.
We decided to risk it and made our way southeast toward Tucson. As we drove further into the desert, the scenery began to change a bit. We started seeing many more types of cacti and rock formations. It was very… brown.
About 15 minutes outside Phoenix, I realized I hadn’t been outside for hours and that it was incredibly sunny. So I checked the weather. This happened:
Just kidding that would be 235 degrees Fahrenheit and the car would literally melt to the ground. But still, that was the hottest weather I have ever been in in my 22 years of living. Also note the city we were in. Fitting. (Also that was my Dad’s birthday HAPPY BIRTHDAY FATHER).
We got to Phoenix and luckily the temperature dropped to 111 so we decided going outside was bearable. We parked in the shade of an abandoned gas station parking lot to make sandwiches and stretch our legs. As Betz laid the lunchmeat and cheese on top of the car, I rummaged for the bread. He passed me the cheese and when I went to grab a slice, I noticed it felt weird. I looked in and realized that for the less than 30 seconds the cheese was sitting on top of the car (in the shade, remember), the entire block had melted together into one clump. I don’t know how people live in Arizona.
Then, as we ate our sandwiches, we witnessed a drug deal. I never want to go to Phoenix again.