Red Truck Road Trip - WEST Coast Team

All good things come to an end, or so I’ve been told. I’m pretty sure that it’s just another lie of Mike’s that he tells to ruin my fun (you know, like “no, sorry, the authorities will not think it’s funny that you tried to get a grizzly bear drunk in Yellowstone,” or “yes, that label makes you look fat”), but apparently this hellish captivity has finally reached its final moments. Our last few days took place in Boston, which is considered by many to be the birthplace of our nation. It’s pretty unique because there aren’t really any other cities in America which have so much historical locations in their downtowns, and there certainly aren’t many that provide a color-coded walkthrough of said landmarks.

Mike, of course, loves the Freedom Trail, because it not only happened to run nearby his hotel and provided him with an effortless map he could use for his masochistic runs (I’m pretty sure that enjoying the amount of pain he receives from those qualifies him as needing medication of some kind), but it also let him feel like he was literally running through history instead of just reading about it. Of course, he didn’t take his camera with him, because that just wouldn’t be fun to run with, so I guess you’ll just have to take his word that it’s worth checking out.

If you happen to have some time to kill, Quincy Market (pronounced “Quinzy” by the locals) is as good a way to murder it as any. Not only does the place boast a number of colorful shops (as well as the generic ones like American Eagle and a few tacky souvenir places), but it also has the historic Faneuil Hall to explore, talented street performers appearing almost every hour (like the talented family of British acrobats, the Sardine Family, pictured below), and is located about a block-and-a-half away from the New England Aquarium, which features possibly the coolest Penguin sanctuary ever. Oh, and there’s also free wi-fi connections available in Quincy Market, too, which allowed Mike to walk around and check his email via his PDA (I fail to see what’s so exciting about this, but he loved it).

So, what else did we do? Well, there was Boston Common, which contains a number of sculptures and fountains featuring mythological and angelic figures, as well as some truly beautiful scenery and some of the most brazen squirrels one could ever hope to find outside of Yosemite. Mike liked it because of all the people who were lounging around and just enjoying the nice weather, I liked it because I got to tease the local wildlife and drive them nuts (no pun intended). There was also Walden Pond, which is a favorite hangout of Bostonians looking to cool off on a hot day (and, apparently, was also a lurking place for Henry David Thoreau). I was dragged into its murky depths by Mike’s creepy friend Lucy, who acted as our tour guide for a day and a half, but once she left me alone I’ll admit that it felt nice to just bob along the surface for a while.

And then, after two days of exploring the city, it was time to return the car, still somehow intact despite the month’s worth of abuses inflicted upon it by my dubious traveling companions. Alamo took the vehicle back, surprisingly without any comments, and then Mike had to check his bags… which totally drove home the point that trip was coming to a close. It was surprising and surreal all at once, I think because none of the guys actually believed that the end would actually come.

But it did come, and now we’ve returned to California. And now the real world is reasserting its presence in Mike’s life, with work and errands and bills that need to be paid… but I’m still around to remind him (sitting on his shelf, of course; there’s no way he’s getting rid of me now) of how good he had it this one fateful July; all of it thanks to me, of course.