"you take the high road and i'll take the low road and we'll both be dead by the morning."
i think that's how the song goes.
and if it isn't, it should.
well we made it to our destination but i'm certain i shortened keaton's life by three years and mine by seventeen.
it was a recipe for disaster.
no sleep for 24 hours.
a car with the zest of a three legged cow.
a steering wheel in the front passenger seat.
200 miles on the contrarian side of the road.
two lane country roads the width of a driveway.
in town roads the width of sidewalks.
insane speeds nearing light.
people in a rush to somewhere.
and keaton, a demonstrative passenger caught in a four hour keystone cop chase.
in short, i will never, ever speak unkindly of new york city cabs again.
i can tell you first hand, the path to hell may be paved in gold but the path to heaven is paved through hedges and brimstone.
i am shaking just thinking about it.
almost killed us five minutes into the drive, which didn't bode well for the remaining three hours and harrowing fifty five minutes.
but somehow we made it.
and i only clipped one mirror in route.
i do not recall any scenery from the ride.
keaton tells me it was quite beautiful.
i wouldn't know.
my knuckles actually broke through my skin and the bleeding was distracting.
however, now that i'm out of the car, the place is something out of middle earth.
i half expect to see frodo baggins come over the heathered hills behind our abode.
pictures will be forthcoming, i swear.
it's just that they are all blurred from the shaking.
some ex-pat we met at a food festival today said my condition would subside in another day or so, and i'd soon see the folly of my old driving ways.
anyway, i'm on my second guinness and third prozac right this moment.
so i'm feeling a little nick nolticky.