18:05:41, 1043.6 miles It's just after six in the morning in Oklahoma. I've been sleeping, fitfully, for an hour or so. The Z06's flat-backed seats are about as comfortable to zonk out in as a phone booth. Jeff pulls over, wakes me up, and announces he needs to sleep. I mumble something about sleeping and begin to shut my eyes again. No, wait. The whole point is to keep going until we're there. The whole point is to not stop.
I get up, I go inside, I buy what should be illegal amounts of caffeine, and we keep going. I'm not even hungry anymore.
20:28:19, 1174.4 miles Neil Diamond's "Sweet Caroline" comes on just as we're getting onto the interstate from a rest stop. We do burnouts in honor of the fact that I can't stand Neil Diamond, but, like everyone else on the planet (including Jeff), also can't resist singing along to this song. We harmonize, badly.
The song ends. Jeff briefly wonders if it would have been cheaper to fly but admits there would have been no burnouts. As he also points out, there would have been no big scary woman in a red Dodge Club Wagon driving around the parking lot at the last gas station making come-hither eyes at us and taking pictures of the Z06.
21:29:03, 1234.3 miles Exit 1. We have officially arrived in Texas.
24:15:55, 1447.0 miles New Mexico. I wake up to Bon Jovi's "Livin' on a Prayer" blasting from the speakers and Jeff braking the car down from what appears to be 140 mph.
"Jeff," I ask, "were you doing a buck-forty?"
"Oh," he says, "you noticed that?"
HIGHEST SPEED OF THE TRIP: I-40, New Mexico, mile marker 317 No traffic on either horizon, fresh concrete for miles; it's like a gift from God. 172 mph.
NOTICE: If you're reading this and are currently employed by the state of New Mexico, Quay County, or the Department of Homeland Security, then I am making up all of the above, and this paragraph is purely for entertainment purposes. If you are not reading this as an employee of the aforementioned, then please note the following: Damn, that's fast.
26:54:00, 450 miles to go We've done 1589.9 miles in almost twenty-seven hours, for an average speed of 58.8 mph. So, really, we've been very responsible.
28:20:13, 1705.0 miles Still not in Arizona. I drink some warm Red Bull that's been baking in the trunk all day, right over the transaxle and exhausts. It tastes like liquid disease, but I need the heart-rate boost.
29:35:21, 1776.2 miles The car really does take you by surprise--even after nearly 2000 miles--every time you drop it down from a cruise into a high-rpm, strafing-run blitz. It pulls hard but doesn't shock you in fifth or sixth, and fourth is just freight-train unstoppable--but third . . . third is this giant bootful of THWOP!
And the horizon rushes up to smack you in the face.
29:40:00, 1784.3 miles Arizona at last. According to the trip computer, we've gotten 24 mpg with the air-conditioning on the entire way. At the last gas stop, I bought and reapplied deodorant. For the second time. Ewww.
32:51:00, 2027.1 miles We have arrived in Prescott, Arizona, and are eleven miles away from the In-N-Out. It's 8:49 p.m. Eastern time. After nearly thirty-three hours in this car, I want out. I don't care about the stupid burger, I Just Want Out. Legs: numb. Knees: rubber. Spinal curve: screaming.
Suddenly, there it is. It's the In-N-Out sign, all lit up. Burgers: Glorious! Standing up outside the car: Wonderful!
Jeff looks out the window. "There's a Jack in the Box across the street," he says. "You wanna go there instead?"
33:06:00, 2038.0 miles Jeff is lying down on the pavement, eyes closed, exhausted. The sun is setting, and of course it should--it's Friday night.
Jeff stands up; we go in. There's a line. I order: one cheeseburger, fries well-done, one medium Coke. The burger leaps down my throat. Cheese. Sponge-dough bun. Freshness. Sauce. Bliss.
Finished, Jeff and I get up, throw out our garbage, and walk right out the door. Done.
And then what?
Well, hell. Then we drove home.