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GooGoo hates me

– and the feeling is mutual

The tale I am about to tell is more likely poor programming rather than a targeted assault, but I do understand that I am an enemy of The State though a very minor one. Aggravating, punishing or destroying me is always a possible motivation for anything they do… and make no mistake, the people running The State work for the same bosses as the mega-corps do.

The Tale

During the mad-dash lead-up to my Utah Motorsports Campus (UMC) holiday, I ignored that my body was tired and achy. I had an agenda, financial commitments, emotional investments, and schedule that simply did not have time built in for petty distractions such as those.

I drove 9 hours on Thursday, checked into my motel, crashed fully clothed on the bed for an hour then barely managed to inspire myself to walk across the parking lot for a tolerable Denny’s hamburger… first food since Missy sent me off with a great breakfast… other than some coffee and a liter of water.

Friday I unloaded my track car into the rented garage, completed registration for the Saturday/Sunday High Performance Driver Education (HPDE) event and ran my car through tech inspection so I’d be ready to run Saturday without further ado. I went to the Tooele Deseret Industries thrift store snagging some snug jammies that I don’t normally wear. I had been chilled the night before… one of many clues I ignored until today.

I had a wonderful time both Saturday and Sunday, sliding my 35-year-old Honda CRX through 45-90 mph turns lap after lap, heating up the tires and scrubbing off several year’s-worth of rubber lapping the course at approximately the same pace as the drivers of far more expensive, modern, and powerful sports cars who shared my track time.

By 5 PM Sunday I was on the road home with gear onboard and the car on a trailer behind me. I made it through Utah’s population center with moderate Sunday evening traffic. When I finally cleared the action zone, I hit a rest area and called home to check in utilizing the low-end semi-smart 4G phone Missy bought so I would be within reach while on this holiday. Figuring the thinking time was over I could chance a modest bit of multi-tasking and chat with her while I made freeway-speed progress towards Home.

As with everyone else who THINKS they are successfully multi-tasking at full performance levels, I missed the turn off at Tremonton to remain on I-15 North to Pocatello. Chatting merrily away, I reached Snowville on I84 before realizing my mistake. I took that exit to pull over and reconsider my trajectory.

Rather than rummage through the ocean of luggage to access the Western USofA paper map I packed somewhere, I reassigned my stupid phone to the task of providing step-by-step route instructions towards HOME. While the former would have given me the most efficient recovery plan, I chose the other.

GooGoo to the rescue

… aka: with friends like these who needs enemies???

“Your best route: head east on the main road out of Snowville” … then on and on as the roads became increasingly rural, rough and narrow … until the power lines and all signs of human population other than a narrow ribbon of old, tired pavement disappeared altogether.

GooGoo continually assured me I was making progress towards that fading destination called HOME.

I saw cattle and wildlife on and beside the road, lots of sagebrush, but not much to assure me GooGoo really had my best interests at heart. During a handful of interruptions to my communion with the tech god navigator, I answered a few calls from a concerned spousal unit who feared my enemies were guiding me to the deepest wilderness they could find within range of my fuel supply. (Did they know I had 15 gallons of reserve in the trailer?).

I was by now driving with a certain amount of intensity as I wanted off this super-rural road with myriad potential hazards before nightfall.

Power lines reappeared bit by bit. Road surface began to widen and quality improve. Greatly reassuring, the painted lines between two fully paved lanes appeared. I even passed a sign labeling this as an official Idaho highway with a real number of its own. Yeeehaw! I will make it back to civilization after all.

In the fading light just south of American Falls I drove through a massive wind farm. Dozens of these monstrous decepticons surrounded the rural highway, each wearing themselves out into non-recyclable junk about a century before their ecological toll could possibly be repaid. In their presence, the depth and breadth of the scams we labor under ran rampant through my mind. I actually felt the creepy aura of dark forces blanketing the region.

Shortly thereafter, I broke free of that evil cloud and into American Falls where lovely signage and wide paved roads led me away from GooGoo, the dark side and into nature’s own nightfall heading properly east on Interstate 84, a hop, skip and jump from the northbound I-15 that I strayed from for Ted’s Excellent Adventure.

I fell ill almost the moment I set my overnight bag down in the Blackfoot Best Western room Sunday night, was running on lethargy the next morning, took three naps on the 4 1/2 hour remaining drive home, and did practically nothing on Tuesday or Wednesday. I apparently enjoyed my G-force-junkie holiday running on adrenaline.