Petting the Skunk: A Roadtrip with the Boy of Wonder

Frida and I leaving the NapCastle
on the first leg of our trip.

Tomorrow morning I’ll set forth on the next leg of my trip, this time from San Diego to Yuma, Arizona and on to Scottsdale for a race on Sunday morning. This leg, unlike the last, will involve me and Frida and not our previous roadtrip companion, a gentleman who has asked to by anonymized as Boy of Wonder.

Boy of Wonder is easily the best road trip buddy I’ve ever had, edging out my friend Laural only slightly because unlike Laural, BofW has rebuilt two vehicles and possesses an above average understanding of auto mechanics, which he doesn’t sit around pontificating about, but will discuss if asked. His explanation of why AC and hill climbs are a bad combination and why steady braking on declines will destroy your brakes were as clearly and patiently described as anything I’ve heard on Car Talk.

Besides his automotive knowledge, Boy of Wonder is quiet but not moody, conversational without blabbing endlessly about the scenery, weather, other drivers, his own lack of comfort, or anything else that makes me want to strangle him or hurtle myself out the car door at 60 mph. This doesn’t make us candidates for a wacky movie about embattled road buddies, but it did make traveling 12 hours from Seattles to Weed survivable. I have been on roadtrips where this wasn’t necessarily a given outcome.

The NapCamper at the Hi-Lo RV Park
in Weed, CA.

Boy of Wonder also refrained from the following behaviors, which I provide for you here in case you’re planning a long car trip and want to avoid being left at a gas station in the Mojave. Boy of Wonder never commented on my driving, except in cases where our lives were in obvious danger. I have spent many miles in vehicles with men who assumed they knew all there was to know about driving because they were men, as if somehow their penis had a built-in GPS.

Boy of Wonder did not smoke in the car, eat stinky snacks, read aloud every road sign, constantly adjust the temperature, listen to crappy music, or complain when the RV "Park" I'd made reservations for in Weed turned out to be a parking lot behind a motel. He didn't complain about my taste in music (right now, mostly alt-country: Robert Earl Keen, Todd Snider, Adam Carroll, Hayes Carll, Missy Higgins, Slaid Cleaves), or fall asleep for long periods while I drove and then insist that I stay awake while he drove in order to keep him alert.

The World's Most Awesome
Rest Area.

Our only major debate revolved around the World’s Most Awesome Rest Area. I voted for the Spanish Mission style stop on Highway 101 near Camp Roberts (see photo), and Boy of Wonder lobbied for one on Highway 2 near Leavenworth, which he described as “rustic.” The stop I championed was an emporium of cleanliness, informative historical displays, and a lush, green pet area. When Boy of Wonder defended his choice of the Highway 2 area by saying that part of its charm was its outhouses, I claimed victory. When he said, “They’re fine if you’re a guy and all you have to do is pee,” I accepted it as a concession.

Boy of Wonder realizing a
lifelong dream.

Our destination, the seaside surfing town of Del Mar, appeared on the horizon at just the right time: a 13 hour trek from San Francisco ended peacefully with a three-day stay at Amy’s home near the Torrey Pines Reserve, where Boy of Wonder finally got to realize a lifelong dream of petting the stuffed skunk on display at the reserve’s historical lodge, eat a California-style burrito (i.e. one stuffed with French fries) at El Indio, and spend some time on the beach instead of waiting on the sidewalk outside the La Jolla Gap while his sister and I shopped the sale rack. I think the journey worked out well for both of us—and now I know how disc brakes work.