Sup fuckers? Mama needs to get on the open road and water, and this time, that means SEATTLE, BELLINGHAM, and SPOKANE, WASHINGTON, YOU SHALL HAVE THE PLEASURE OF US.
It was 18 years ago. The little boy, whose mother had died on the raft trip from Cuba. His Miami relatives wanted him to keep him, for freedom. His father, in Cuba, wanted him FUCKING BACK.
The Wonkebago WAS dead! Long live the Wonkebago! (It was nothing, just a short in the sensor that LETS IT DRIVE. It dried out and we were on the road again.)
Y'all, the #wonkebago et mort, at least for today, and possibly for the next two weeks depending on "parts" and "bullshit." We'll let you all know about Wichita and Denver!
We are so tired, you wonderful terrible ones. So fucking tired. We saw, we marched, we cried our eyes out. Have a list of places we will be this week and next, and come out and perk us up! We've changed our route a tiny (Kansas City, you got boned), so maybe we're in your driveway RIGHT NOW!
A couple weeks ago, we left Montana to head to DC for the #teens' March For Our Lives (we drive slow). We stopped by to see our girlfriend on the way out of town, and her friendly, not-stupid, but very racist trucker boyfriend was so happy for us! "Whatcha doing in New York?" he wanted to know. He was so excited! "No, we're going to DC," I told him, delightedly. "We're going to take your guns!"
We thought about canceling on yinz ... wait, that is Pittsburgh. We thought about canceling on tu ustedes, but what is a little nor'easter between friends?
