Well, that “comfort behind the wheel” turned out to be 7 hours on my butt each way, fighting strong head winds and praying that the bus could make it up the next big hill, cursing myself for taking the 5 northbound where I was bound to hit two enormous cow factories that instantaneously filled the cabin with methane and other toxic ass fumes. FUN TIMES!
And, an old problem resurfaced. The dreaded ‘hot start’ problem manifests after long journeys, characterized by idiot lights firing up on the dash but the starter not engaging when the trigger is pulled. Fortunately, previous experience with this demon left me adequately prepared with the correct tools (a remote starter, flashlight, and a nice rug to lay on) and a calm collected consciousness. I will admit though, that I miss the days when I would have Ms. Kat crawl underneath the bus and have passer-bys gawk in horror as they find out I made my girl crawl under the car, not me. This time, people just gawk at the dog as he paws on the windows in a valiant attempt to get some fresh air and prevent himself from pissing all over the driver seat. Which, as it turns out, is another story that only a few close friends shall ever know the real deal about. Hooray.