Tag 56: The March of Time

24th August 2016

Sometime in the perceived dawn, I wake up and realize that I am alone in bed. I can't really identify the buzzing sound that I hear persistently yet. In a horizontal position, this question clears up - but not my blurry vision. The thundering is a combination of the sounds that occur inside my matted skull and some creature that is obviously tearing apart a victim outside the camper. The hesitant glance out of the window revises my imaginative assumptions, as it turns out to be just a party guest from the night before, who is hunching and snorting to get rid of his stomach contents - conveniently right in front of my car. On the other hand, after greedily chugging a bottle of water, I feel like the king of the world. Then I get up and realize - somewhat wobbly on my legs - that my condition now resembles more that of a bell ringer in a French city - which also corresponds quite well with my posture.

Gudi is doing okay under the circumstances. Nevertheless, we enjoy the wonderful shower facilities and treat ourselves to an extra luxurious breakfast to celebrate the free evening. Here lies the business trick. Soon we have to leave the campsite and manage to make it around the corner at least twice - to the next supermarket parking lot. There, I nourish my battered body with a mixture of vitamin C and an extra portion of cholesterol. Together with the amounts of residual alcohol, orange juice and four giant donuts make for the excellent combination of apparent driving ability.

Thirty minutes and heavy rain later, my inner instincts signal to me that it would probably be better to wait a little longer. SO we save ourselves to a highway rest area and I climb, with the last ounce of strength, between a surfboard and a camping chair, just to be able to lie down. The last thing I perceive is that Gudi didn't make it to me, but simply collapsed on the passenger seat.

Three hours later, I wake up my beloved potato sack and explain to her that it is probably time to continue driving.[1] This is - contrary to Gudi's habits - only acknowledged with a peripheral nod.

On the other hand, I now feel truly like a human being again and trust my driving skills and my condition to make it to Sydney. So time passes more or less without any noteworthy events and after a few hours, we realize that we are hungry. The ever-present, saving anchor - in the form of a McDonald's "M" - promises us not only food but also power and wifi, which is why we make ourselves quite comfortable in the city center of some small town (usually the local fast food chain is at least as significant as the church in various small towns).

Late and tired, but happy to have kept to our schedule again today, we reach an unidentified rest area in the middle of a forest, which offers us a cozy campsite for the coming night.

Summing up, I can only say that my resilience - and especially Gudi's - is no longer what it used to be. I am horrified to realize that sufficient sleep and healthy eating will probably be better for my well-being in the future than nights of heavy drinking and fatty food.

Gudi's glorious laws:

On this day, I can't share much of Gudi's wisdom with you, as she hardly says anything. Interpreting her snorting and grumbling in various stretches of road, I suspect she wanted to say something like "Drive the curves slowly when I'm feeling sick - or should I puke on you?".

[1] Gudi wants me to rewrite this version of the facts, as she believes it doesn't correspond to the truth. I advise her to write her own blog.