Whatever

Brothers from other mothers! lol

 

Was 87* real feel 89


Next 3 days 90s

 

Might be a grandpa by this time tomorrow . Daughter checked into the hospital @5 this evening and being induced into labor tomorrow

 

Surprise. Rain tomorrow. Not mad.

 

Come to NORCAL they said, it's cooler up here they said -- speaking of that, for the first half of my life I always heard or thought people were saying "NOCAL" - then I was told, it IS NORCAL.

 

We have only had like 4 days over a 100 this summer so far.. we avg like 20 I think

 

oh shit! global cooling! i wanna go back to Asheville. 65 at night.

I always see this place on my way out of town. Made me think of you Sac.
https://share.google/qNmnYu0TZ5cLPhmEK

 

I can't do sharp cheddar. Not really of a fan of cheddar. Much rather have Monterey Jack or Colby Jack. Tillamook is good though. I like their ice cream.

 

I’m in bed. Plotting evil plans to take over the world. Or something.

 

In a hurry I got off the interstate and on the offramp a Robin hit the windshield. A leg got caught on a wiper and had it stuck. It didn't die and was gasping for air so I turned on the wipers and it flew off. Well I wasn't aware there was a highway patrol behind me. Damn bird hit him and he puts on his lights and pulls me over. Up to my window and says Mr I'm taking you to jail for flipping me the Bird.

 

twah stee

 

So I start the morning the usual way: banana, questionable energy drink, and me whispering sweet nothings to the 4Runner in the driveway like “You ready to do war crimes in the forest?” The mirrors fogged over slightly, which I took as consent.

I drove out solo. Or so I thought. About 15 minutes into the trail, I saw something move behind me in the rearview mirror. Not a tree. Not a squirrel. It looked like an unlicensed taxidermy project with huge feet and a Patagonia vest.

I stop. Step out. Leaves rustle. Out walks Bigfoot, dragging a rusty Hi-Lift jack and holding what I think was a Capri Sun. He points at my tires and goes, “Too much pressure. That’s why your soul feels heavy.”
I don’t know how he knew, but I immediately aired down to 14 PSI.

Now I’m feeling good. Real good. I’m crawling over boulders like a goat with a grudge, the 4Runner humming like a sentient fridge. Everything’s perfect until I round a bend and come face to face with a Yeti—not the cooler, the beast. White fur, glowing eyes, standing on a rock like he's in a shampoo commercial. He screams, I scream, the 4Runner throws itself into reverse unprompted and we both vanish in opposite directions.

Somewhere in the confusion, my GPS turns off and the infotainment screen starts playing static and old episodes of Knight Rider. I swear the nav lady whispered “You’ve entered the forbidden zone” but in a Scottish accent.

Then it gets weirder.

I hit a clearing. In the middle? A single raised platform made of tree bark and boulders. On it? A unicorn. Not like some prissy rainbow-horse cartoon. This one had scars, glowing hooves, and off-road recovery straps wrapped around its torso like a bandolier. It made eye contact and the 4Runner stalled immediately, like it was paying respect.

The unicorn trots up, snorts dust from my air intake, and taps its horn on my hood. Suddenly, my check engine light turned off. I haven’t seen it since. It healed my rig. Or cursed it. Jury’s still out.

Then a loud roar echoes from behind. The Yeti is back, riding a dirt bike made of bones and PVC pipe. Bigfoot shows up again with a snorkel in one hand and a trail map in the other. The unicorn rears back and screams, “CHOOSE YOUR LINE, MORTAL.” I floor it.

Everything after that was a blur of mud, screaming trees, high-speed crawling, and me swerving around mythological creatures trying to hand me fliers for trail yoga. At one point I swear the 4Runner grew antlers. At another point I drove through a creek that felt like it was whispering compliments to my undercarriage.

Finally, I burst out onto pavement again. Covered in dirt, antenna missing, gas light on, grill stuffed with moss. I look in the mirror—Bigfoot’s gone. The unicorn? Vanished. Yeti? Left behind a single cooler full of iced kombucha and cold pizza.

I pull into a gas station. The attendant takes one look at my rig and just says, “You went north of marker 7, didn’t you?”

I don’t respond. Just buy a Gatorade, nod like I’ve seen things, and drive home.

The 4Runner idled smoother than ever. Suspension? Feels like riding a cloud made of tires and vengeance. MPG is up. My dog refuses to get back in the vehicle. My wife says my eyes glow at night. I haven’t slept since.

Anyway, has anyone else had their rig blessed by a woodland unicorn and/or spiritually tested by a bipedal ape in hiking gear? Also, how do I clean Yeti drool off my tailgate? It’s like antifreeze and broken dreams.

 

Good luck! ❤️

 

blue ridge parkway. caney fork overlook. brevard, nc.