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Slow Down Assholoff

December 1, 2009

I was breaking in my brothers new car…..he told me to slow down Hasselhoff….I heard Assholoff. 

After a a few hours of driving he said that he thinks I’m getting too comfortable in it.

My brother and I left LA over a week ago. I wanted to drive the 8 East to Tucson. While my brother was driving we went through a make shift border control stop. There was a sign, “Caution, Dog Working”. He shined the light in his eyes and asked where we were headed and my brother said, “Arizona.” We were waved through.

We switched driving somewhere around 3:00 a.m. in the morning, we were two hours still away from Grandpa’s and I came across another make shift border patrol check point. The drive is gorgeous out of San Diego, you leave mountains and then drive on flat lands where the desert is lit up by the stars. I cruise comfortably at 90 mph, there isn’t a cop in sight, and border patrol isn’t giving out speeding tickets.

There were 4 border patrol officers and a dog surround us.

The first officer asks me who the car is registered to and  I say, “My brother, but I’m included on the insurance.” Another officer with a dog is circling the car. The officer waves us through and as I’m looking in the rear view mirror I see and hear with my window still down…..”Rough” …. the dog barks and we are flagged to pull into the tent. I’m asked to step out of the car and so is my brother. He is getting patted down and I’m asked to go over near the bench. I am asked to empty all of my pockets. I had been eating a bunch of beef jerky (my standard road trip snack) and had two old pieces of dental floss in my pocket. I say to the officer sheepishly, “Sorry.” I’m then asked to turn out all of my pockets and I do. I’m watching over his shoulder as a dog is being allowed to jump inside my brothers brand new car and trunk. He is sitting on the bench thinking to himself (I found out later) OH COME ON GUYS! I’m thinking to myself, I wonder if the dog is going to eat the beef jerky? The officer tells me I can pick up my things and I see a silver lighter that looks customized. I said, “That’s not mine!” The officer took it.

When we arrived to Grandpa’s I saw a scratch on the rear of the car. I said, “OMG, I didn’t do this.” It took us awhile to figure out how it happened, until my brother unloaded the car and saw paw prints all over the place. The dog’s chain going around the car scratched his brand new vehicle. My brother said, “Well, in this economy, I guess you are not supposed to be able to buy a new car.”

On the way back we took the 10. There was a cop every mile along that route. I think they moved all the police to the 10 from the 8. There is a dangerous war on the border between America and Mexico. Many people are being abducted and held for ransom. The drug trafficking is out of control. There is a very serious cartel and many gangs that are involved. The Border Patrol made it clear they did not want us driving the 8. I was asked why I went out of my way to drive the 8 instead of the 10. I told them, “My grandmother told me it was a better drive.”

Every time we needed to stop at a rest stop, we were cautious that we went to one that had at least some people around, lights, and not too close to the border. Usually that time of night rest stops are full of cars and truckers but on this patch of road, about only 1/3 of what I normally see. I have always been a driver. Even during work. When I was sent from New York to Alabama, I drove both ways at least 4 times. I also drove to Arkansas as a 10 hour road trip vacation to find relatives I’d never met before then. That seemed short compared to the 18 – 24 hour drives.

The above picture of the speedometer belongs to our Cadillac Brougham 1991. The speed is actually in Kilometers. If you click on the picture it goes to a video I sent to Chip Foose Overhaulin T.V. show.

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