Allan Baker

     DAY 3 -- Unaware that railroad tracks were about 20 ft. from my room when I checked in, I was 'roused from my slumber', at about 3 in the morning. As prepared as anyone would be - for a train exploding through their bathroom in the pitch black of the early morning - I crawled out from under my bed, readjusted my heart monitor, and stumbled blindly towards the phone, knocking over a lamp enroute. I wanted to call the front desk and kindly inquire why a locomotive had been routed through my bathroom, AND - if anything was open at this hour, so as to get some coffee, or breakfast, or in an ideal world - a tranquilizer. I got a static-filled recorded message - telling me to call if I needed anything. Undaunted, and ignoring the irony of the situation, I forged ahead. I got dressed - and after a hearty breakfast consisting of an
Almond Joy and a handful of tap water - I opened the door, and was overjoyed to see my car covered with snow. Being the ever-prepared traveler that I am
- I'm now 'pushing' snow off my windshield with a shoe, whilst (love that word) I wait for my car to decide if it wants to start or not. THAT, my friends, was how Day 3 got underway.

          At about 11:00 - Triple A showed up, jumped my battery, and showing
more than a mild curiosity, asked me why my rear-left tire was so much bigger than the other tires. Glancing back there, I noticed that not only was it still huge, but it was now doing what I like to call the 'Southside Lean".

Rolling the dice, and showing great courage (or stupidity, whichever you
prefer), I headed out for undoubtedly, the most God-forsaken stretch of Route 66 - southeastern California. Surely my freak-of-nature rental car could last one more day.

Goffs, Fenner, Essex, Amboy, Ludlow, and of course, the undisputedgarden spot of the Golden State - Barstow, (I missed Needles - darn!!) made up the bulk of the day. Highlights? Passing through Goffs and not realizing it; scalding the top of my mouth eating blueberry pie in Ludlow (and this was after paying $2.ll a gallon for gas); and, getting yet another great taco - this one at Platas, in Barstow. As I was eating, I glanced up to look at the painting looming above me - it was a matador, neatly side-stepping an onrushing bull. The bull had three spears (the technical name escapes me) plunged into it's back, and blood was gushing from the wounds......I didn't get a second taco.

As Day 3 wrapped up, I was back in Los Angeles - just in time for a
monsoon, of course - and while driving on the 101, a quarter mile from my exit, a woman skidded into the back of me. My behemoth of a left-rear tire,
had actually prevented - to a certain degree - more severe damage to that
section of the car... it could've been a lot worse. More tomorrow.