RV DAY 3: HOW'S MY DRIVING? 1-800-F*CK-YOU

Hold on to your hats and nuts, campers! It’s gonna be a bumpy ride!

Even though we bought Margaritaville six months ago and have already taken a few small road trips to Yosemite, Big Sur, and Tahoe, Justin has always been the only DD (designated driver). I have pushed off driving the 28-foot rig for as long as I can, but I can only pump Justin with so much caffeine and I am running out of excuses and feigned illnesses. (“I’m pregnant” or “I have anal leakage / syphilis / arthritis / gout / ” is just not cutting it.) Justin has become quite the trucker. He can handle Margaritaville better than I can maneuver a go cart, yet he is still making me drive this monster of a truck. Does he forget whom he married? ASIAN WOMEN CAN’T DRIVE! Just ask a black kid growing up in inner city Chicago raised by his single mother while his dad is in and out of jail. Being poor, black and male growing up in the hood, odds are doubly stacked against him to not lead a life of crime (just finished reading Freakonomics). Similarly, being Asian and female growing up in the burbs, odds are doubly stacked against me to drive such a massive vehicle and not hit trees and road signs that pop out of nowhere or run over animals or smaller cars that get in my way. What if I get pulled over and cited for DWA*?

Alas, as the clay-mation caricature of Kim Jong Il lamented in Team America, “It is inevijable!” The time has come for me to get behind the wheel. As we were driving through the Nevada approaching Area 51, Justin pulled over and made me switch to the driver’s seat. We reviewed some basics of RV driving and practiced making turns in the pull off using water bottles as cones. Then I drove off to the open road. Luckily, Route 375 aka Extraterrestrial Highway was about the straightest road in America. A couple of cows did cross the road in front of me, but I am happy to report that I did not make contact and the cows were unharmed. Driving an RV really wasn’t as horrifying as I thought it would be. I just had to be super alert and not be on auto-pilot or half asleep like I usually am when I drive. Even though Justin kept confirming that I was doing so well, he could not stop freaking out once in a while when there is a sharp turn or a pothole. There were a few times when I wanted to take the walkie-talkie and yell, “Dispatcher: Code XBD. Need backup to extricate a backseat driver.”

It was a hard day on the job; I clocked in three and a half hours and called it a day. We made it safely past Area 51 aka Dreamland, secret military testing site in Nevada not acknowledged by the government. Apart from a low flying black aircraft that disappeared into thin air and signs that say “Low Flying Aircraft” and side roads every 10 miles that looked like only authorized vehicles were allowed entry, nothing else unusual happened. We passed by the famous Black Mailbox, took a few pictures, and Justin resumed his driving responsibility making our way to Zion National Park. We plan to return to Area 51 on our way back to spend a night star gazing on the rooftop and hopefully get abducted by a UFO. Wouldn’t that be a great blog?

Next stop: Zion. Over and out.

*DWA: Driving While Asian