New Adventures Pt. 2

I left you last time with our little adventure to Burro town. So now to further this exciting tale of travel and adventure.

We gleefully passed through Oatman and continued on our stretch of beautiful, winding, surprisingly light on traffic Route 66. It wound through the mountains as the history of this once highly trafficked road continually grabbed out attention. There were sheer drop offs on the cliff sides, parts that were so narrow going around a turn that when the truck going the other direction decided to inch over the line we almost ended up grabbing a handful of the mountainside we got so close to the wall. But I digress, we stumbled upon some awesome overlooks that spanned across what seemed to be the entire state of Arizona, found an enormous old tree that had a high hanging swing perfect for an afternoon break and some throw backs to childhood.

As we exited the mountains, we continued to drive by gas stations and small towns that seemed to be the story tellers of the history of Route 66. Funky and original in their day, bustling with all the amenities a small family could need as they traversed the country in their 55' Chevy Nomad. These buildings now stand as testaments to the power of the interstate. I can't count the number of buildings that we passed that lay empty and decaying. We stopped at one gas station in particular that jumped out at us. Overhangs of steel creaked every time the wind decided to blow through, boarded windows, and a post office that has long since closed. We happened to stop at the same station where a couple of Germans riding motorcycles (reference Adventures Pt. 1) had stopped as well. They laughed a bit and offered to take our picture as we sat in the middle of the highway in front of the big "Highway 66" logo painted in the road. We continued to explore and found our way to the bathroom of this gas station which was completely empty, save for the sink. I guess those things really are sturdy.

After a solid day of travel, we eventually found our way to Flagstaff, AZ. A small mountain town at 7,000 feet. Easy to walk around, and lots of cool little shops to explore. I'll spare you the details of the walking around there, but I will describe the hotel experience. We landed at the closest hotel to downtown we could find that didn't look like it was going to cost a limb or two. Turns out we got the last room, and the guy (I think feeling sorry for us) told us he would give us a discount. The room happened to be a smoking room (strike one, but ok, I can deal with that), we walk in and it seemed nice enough...bed, lights, a curtain on the window and even a mini fridge for our convenience. So hey, all in all it's pretty nice. Bags are set down, and we plop on a bed. Now, I should say that plop is the action we attempted, not necessarily the outcome. The outcome was more along the lines of a *thump* or *whack* if you will. The bed felt something like a plywood board covered with thin foam (strike two, we'll give em the benefit of the doubt and keep rolling here). We discuss what to do for the evening and get situated as the gentle sounds of a train in the distance remind me of what you would here in an old western movie. We toss our drinks in the fridge, and start bundling up to walk to dinner (it was 28 degrees) and again, the train approaches, this time I can hear it ever so gracefully, the epitome of US industry and a throwback to the golden days of travel sounds its horn. We store our things back in the bags, and get ready to step out as the train that had been approaching seemingly came barging in to our room blowing that whistle. I almost felt the need to jump out of the tracks as I walked to the window of our room and noted that the train tracks were indeed across the street. (strike three, but what are ya gonna do when you've already paid for the room). The trains and the horns continued through the night, un-relentless in their pursuit of warning the town that the train is still alive and well.

More to come in a third installment. Dang, I didn't know I had this much descriptive writing in me.

Farmer

Football star can't shake Ronald McDonald

www.msn.foxsports.com

You can't tackle Broncos wide receiver Brandon Marshall with your arms. You really have to wrap him up.

Or put a McDonald's wrapper in his path.

The physical Denver wideout will have his arm in a cast for at least two weeks after slipping on a fast food wrapper, NFL.com reported. When he slipped, Marshall reached his arm out to brace his fall and it went through a TV entertainment center. That injury required stitches.

"I want to thank everybody for their concerns and let everyone know that I'm okay," Marshall wrote in a text message Sunday to NFL.com. "It's funny because I pride myself on YAC (yards after catch) and being one of the toughest players to take down once I have the ball in my hands.

"So for the next couple of days I'm going to take the time to build my confidence back up after allowing that McDonalds bag to take me down and send me through the entertainment center."

There was no immediate word on whether any NFL defensive coordinators were looking to sign Ronald McDonald or the Burger King as a way to slow Marshall during the season.

New Adventures

I just returned from a 3-day, non-stop, whirlwind, go where the wind takes you kind of road-trip. So I thought I'd fill ya'll in.

We started in Palm Desert, on Wednesday evening and drove to 29 Palms that night. Apparently it's a big Marine base in the middle of the desert, so I don't suggest messing with anyone if you ever take a trip there. While driving aimlessly around that night, we stumbled upon a drive-in movie theater, a treat for me since I had never been to one. We followed all of this up by driving to a Best Western parking lot, setting up shop, and sleeping in the trunk of a Chevy Equinox all night. Now, for all of you who think this sounds like a good idea...come talk to me first. Granted, I tend to feel like a giant when it comes to small confined spaces, but honestly, it was like trying to fit a square peg in to a round hole. Needless to say I woke up early, not very rested, but excited to start the day of driving.

Leaving 29 Palms we had no real destination in mind, only that we were going to head in some general east direction. We hopped on the first small highway visible on the map, determined to get off the beaten path. What started as a bleak, rundown looking road, we soon found out was Route 66. Yes, the road the song was written about, the road that at one time supported the steady flow of cross country travelers hoping to explore our great country, but which now supports a steady flow of........nothing really. Just the occasional group of 40+ tourists riding rented Harley's in hopes of, as the song goes "get their kicks on route 66". It was exciting though, driving through deserted gas stations and hotels, trying to picture all the traffic that once traveled this route.

Continuing on, we crossed the CA-AZ border and continued to follow the old trail. We found some amazing road-side stops to make, but one that sticks out in my mind was Oatman. This town is nothing but a giant tourist trap. It is at the foothills of the mountains, and essentially consists of Burros being used as tourist magnets like Disney uses mouse ears. We were forced to sit in this town for around 20 minutes because an old-west street show was blocking the entire road, talk about corny, and yet people are drawn to this cheap masquerading of false history and crappy cowboy costumes. As we sat, burros milled around out car being fed carrots by children, and it finally came to me. No matter how corny this town may be, it doesn't make sense to seethe about how distasteful it may be, or the money wasted in this small town, what matters is that people were laughing, having a good time and enjoying the opportunity. So as the chip on my shoulder slowly filled in, I gave in to the hopelessly calm looking ass next to my door and got out to take a picture with him. And as I put my hand on his side as if to say "ya know what Mr. Burro, I don't think you're that bad after all," he promptly turned and walked away. Karma's a pain sometimes.

I'm getting a bit long-winded, so I'll continue the rest of our travels in the next blog...stay tuned.

We need to give our teachers more credit

www.theonion.com

UNIONTOWN, PA—Most educators view multiple-choice exams as an opportunity to couch the correct answer amidst three or four other plausible alternatives. Not so for Uniontown High School teacher Tom Campbell. Campbell, 47, who has taught freshman history at the school for the past 11 years, uses the popular test format not only to instruct but also to delight his students with his quirky sense of humor.

"What was the Great Awakening?" a question from one of Campbell's most recent tests reads. "(a) Coffee and a bagel, (b) The name given to FDR's evening radio addresses, (c) 'C'mon, Mom! Let me sleep five more minutes!' or (d) A dramatic religious revival in Anglo-American history."The answer is D," said Campbell, holding back a wry smile. "Giving them the option of 'Coffee and a bagel.' Get it?"

It's hard to imagine, but this life-of-the-classroom didn't always write his exams in such an amusing fashion. Campbell says that it wasn't until 2001—the year he turned 40—that he began to feel stifled by the standard, school-sanctioned exams and decided his tests would go in a more unorthodox direction.

"I'll never forget that first joke answer," Campbell said. "The question was 'Reconstruction can best be described as,' and I decided to make one of the choices—I think it was C—'What will never happen to the school's broken-down auditorium.' All day long I was nervous the kids would think it was inappropriate, but when I heard a few giggles in the back of the classroom, I knew I had a gift for this kind of thing."

Spring Break...working hard or never ending work?

Today brought about the 3rd day of crew camp, another day of working out, eating, sleeping, working out, eating, and for the most part sleeping again. Ya know, this gets to feel pretty repetitive at times. On the bright side, Landen and I have been on the move with www.localfuze.com, bringing about new developments every day and loving every minute of it. If you ask me, a busy life is a happy life as long as you're loving what your doing.

New Days

New to the blog scene, but Landen has been guiding the way. Ya know, I didn't think this whole internet thing was going to pan out, but I guess it proved me wrong. Look out world, here comes the REAL Shane Farmer.