Finally, we got our car on Saturday and you can see it in the photo above. No, just kidding, we got a white Chevy Impala, not nearly as cool as the one in the picture.
If you're not from the States, then you know we don't all have automatics, some of us drive proper cars with stick shifts. Everybody says that automatics are easier to drive, but if you know how to do something the "hard" way, the easy way isn't easy, it's just fucked up. When I first drove the car, I forgot after a while that there's no clutch and I stepped on the brake like it's the clutch and the car STOPPED, everything went flying through the air and me and Veronika got glued to the windshield. Funny. After that, we were good, I learned my lesson, I just did that one more time-ish.
When we left San Francisco, we stopped at Bakersfield on our way to L.A. and we went out for a few drinks. The place was called Padre and it was a mixture of Ave, KMŠ and Top, but you have to be from my hometown and/or live/study in our caital to know what that means, so for all of you, to whom that doesn't apply, I have a story. When I went to the restroom, I asked a girl if the crowd there's always so desperate and in dire need of attention (especially the male population) and the girl said: "Yes, I heard one girl just say 'I'm getting every hepatitis from A to Z tonight.'" Funny. The party ended at 2 a.m., which is just shameful, because we party till 7 a.m., but that was ok since we had to get up early and hit the road again.
We spent the night in the car and at about 4 a.m. our car got egged and spray-painted - who knew Bakersfield of all cities is going to be such a riot. I wonder though how we're going to explain the black spray paint stripe across the side of our car to Hertz. Funny.
And some leftover shots from San Fran.
|Feels like home.|
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