First trip i ever took in an X was a long long time ago, and many X's ago, in my first X, a 2wd, 5spd that ignited my love of Xterras. Read along if you care to. This probably isnt what this thread is about, but I want to tell you this story.
Long long ago, I was asked to drag home a volkswagen bus for a friend. He says "It's down near Tyler." Which was no problem, except it ended up being an hour past Tyler, making it a solid 250 miles away from me and more than i really wanted to do back then. Especially since I had no trailer, and only the barest knowledge on how to tow a car. ESPECIALLY on the antique car dolly we borrowed. Regardless, awash in our ignorance, we head out there, with spare tires in tow.
When we arrive, we find the ratshiat dirtiest bus I have ever seen. Seriously. It had sat out in the trees since 1980, and to be fair I believe the critters residing in it rightfully owned it, but who am I to say.
So there it sat in all its fecal glory, on 3.5 flats, steaming in its own juices. I was briefly glad we brought spares. Briefly. Ever tried to change the wheel on a car that hasn't moved in 26 (this adventure occurred in 2006 i think) years? Especially since you are a broke boi with no battery powered impact? After mucho monumental effort, we get them changed, and have a good look at the bus. No crap, I damn near went back home. Even after all the work. In a bizarre twist, the cargo floor wasn't rusted, and the rockers weren't, but the drivers floor and front rocker are shot to hell. I believe the copious, acidic amounts of rat shiat ate the floors. So I open the slider door.
I damn near died. It smelled like a dead rhino crapped a dead monkey's ass. As I said, the critters own this bus, and here is proof.
It was advertised as having the "original camping equipment" inside. Really? I mean, i guess in theory, but he could have mentioned that the fridge was mostly a rat's nest. So, thinking the worst is over, I open the passenger door.
All that black? Rat poop. Seriously. I gagged. This whole filthy motherufcker was covered in green moss, and full of rat turds. So even after a long conference. My friend still decides to take it, cause its cheap, its a 71, and he wants a project. So we load it. With sweat, young backs and an antique come along that I think he stole from some elderly person who didn't know there had been dramatic improvement in tools in the last 60 years.
Truthfully, the people pedaling this shiat box were the nicest people I have ever met. They gave us tons of water, fresh fruit and vegetables from their garden, and offered us lunch. Declining, (mostly due to the fact that we were covered in sweat and shiat particles) we head home. My friend is in charge of throwing all 3.5 flats in the back and shutting the hatch. This is important for later.
Heading back through Tyler, we hear a loud metallic clank, honks, and screeching tires. Thinking nothing of it, we push on. Stopping at car wash 1 of 3, I check the load. The rear hatch has come open, and we lost one wheel. (we lost no ratshiat however. -ed) Guess that explains the noise. As tempers begin to flare, I advise my idiot pal what he did, and then discover that the car wash I so strategically maneuvered us into is broke, we push on. Did I mention that my X had no AC and its nearly 100 degrees? I didnt? Oh.
We stop again in Greenville, which is about 60 miles down crap roads, while two tons of rat shiat storage sway back and forth on an antique car dolly. Finally, we roll into a brand spanking new car wash, amid glares and stares. I dont care. The flapping banners indicate this place is minty fresh, and newly minted. Never seen anything like what its about to see, but someones gotta pop that car wash cherry.
I stuff the bus in the wash bay, and he starts digging out quarters to feed the machine. No kidding, this bus freaking stinks. I can smell it from the dollar changer six bays down. Scrubbing begins. Water, Brush, Soap, Brush, Water, repeat. No amount of soap and water seem to make any difference. Rat shiat is eternal. Rat shiat is omnipotent. Rat shiat will not be denied. 30 minutes in, and It still smells horrible. So I blast off all the mold, and he gets the bright idea to wash out all the turds while I scrub with the brush. Long story short? He opens the doors, and starts washing all the turds out. Onto me. At FULL BLAST. See, rat shiat is bad. Rat shiat on you is worse. Wet rat shiat is bad. Wet rat shiat on you is WORSE.
WET RAT shiat BLASTED ON TO YOU WITH A HIGH PRESSURE HOSE IS THE WORSTEST THING EVER.
I dont think it got into my mouth and eyes, but I wont swear to it.
Discussion turns to violence, and Kirk takes a shower in the car wash bay to remove the turds. He literally sprays me from head to toe while i swear with my eyes closed. Im told a family walked by, sees us, and grasped their children close, while continuing on. Five dollars later, the wash bay is screwed, I'm wet, and the bus still stinks. Telling him to check the straps, I squish across the street to the dollar store for a towel and a T shirt. This ALSO is important for later.
I get back, now wearing a discount t shirt for some woebegone NASCAR team unlucky enough to have their shirt land on the clearance rack in a dollar store, making it about all i could afford at the time. He looks up from the bus, considers making fun of my shirt, and changes his mind. Wisely, I would say. We start off. Not five miles later, I hear "tink-tink-tinkle-tink" and the bus lurches hard to the right, pulling the X with it to the shoulder. After a brief, (albeit violent) struggle, i get the X and its cargo stopped, without killing ourselves or anyone around. The left strap flew off at some point, and the right strap had worked loose enough to cause everything to shift. Conversations were had. At full volume. While wearing discount clothing that I am already sweating through on the side of the road standing near a rat tomb.
Thought you checked them. I did. You didn't or it wouldn't have come off. Went to fix it, its wet, and covered in rat turds. You fix it. He grimaces. I threaten to cut it loose and head home. FIX IT. He did. Back on the road. Did I mention I still have no AC and its 96 degrees? Yeah. So back we go. Another hour we are to Emory. See another small town car wash, free from witnesses. By this time, I'm tired of everything about this trip, including him, and volkswagens in general. Pull up to the vaccum and he scrapes up another two dollars in quarters to use sucking up rat turds. I pulled the tip off the hose, and used the open end to suck up everything I could. I gave him cans and sticks duty, and we filled up the trash near us, a bay down, and a bay down from that. I vaccummed until it stopped up.
This thing is still full of turds, and now smells like wet rat crap. I tied my shirt to my face to block the smell, but it was a completely fruitless effort. My friend starts scooping trash out with his hands and throwing crap on the ground until I stop him. No reason to mess up someone elses place worse. Back on the road.
We finally find a place for fuel that I can pull up to with the bus in tow, as the X has been quietly doing its job without complaint, however diligent work comes at a thirsty cost. Going inside to pay, the gas clerk wittingly advises me that I'm towing a big piece of shiat. Thanking him, I get my chilli cheese fritos and leave. We finally make it back to Sherman, pull through his "to do" neighborhood, and present his wife with the prize.
She hits the freaking roof. Refuses to have the possibly rat infested, dripping wet stinking bus at the house. Fears retribution from critters. Alleges possible sicknesses caused by said bus, including but not limited to the rocking pneumonia and the boogie woogie flu. Neighbors come out, scream, and leave. Judgemental looks are given. Crowds are drawn, as his wife's voice continues to climb octave after octave.
And now every one of them think I have horrible taste both in fashion and Nascar teams.
Argument ensues, and Kirk stares at his feet, pretending to be interested in the exquisite art of sidewalk construction, leaves and bugs, anything other than the divorce in progress on the porch.
Defeated, and dejected, my friend suggests we put this contraption at my apartment. Not likely, as I cant get evicted and move back in with my mama. It ended up stuffed in a friends back yard until further plans are made. That buddy is out of town with his family. Gonna be a big surprise when he comes back.
The ride from the backyard to his house is dead silent. Not one word is said. I drop him off and go home.
I shower for 30 minutes, well past when the water went cold, and immediately pass out, after over 11 hours on the road.
He and I are no longer friends.
So the question remains... what is the first or best recreational trip you took in your X?
