twenty-one hundred miles


It looks like Mrs Bugg’s car was a bit bigger than my CRX, but, like my CRX, was packed literally to the roof. I bet she had to have her books shipped separately, too.

One day I shall write up all the silly things that happened on that trip, but here are some bullet-point highlights of that 22-hour nonstop drive:

  • “The wages of sin is death” billboard
  • 24-hour live bait machine
  • Choosing a star from the billions visible in middle-of-nowhere Texas, in the middle of the night
  • Being forced to play chicken with armadillos in the road
  • “What’s that? DON’T LOOK!”
  • “Like a cow pissing on a flat rock”
  • “Welcome to the desert!”

Ahh, memories.


Mr and Mrs Bugg are crammed into a small car, into which is also crammed way too many boxes of stuff. You can tell they have not yet set off, as the antennae on the hood are still pointing forward, and have not been blown backwards by the seventy mile an hour winds they will soon encounter.

The text reads: “Bugtober 25, 1992: On this day, the Buggs left the swamp to go live in the desert. Silly drive with lots of silly.”