10.15.00 – Entering Utah

There are 15 hours of highway between Seattle and Salt Lake City, and Michael (our driver) tackled them in one overnight chunk. This morning I woke up somewhere in Idaho, sat shotgun for a while, and noticed that Michael had been killing bugs all night with his big strong windshield. I tried to count them but soon became bored (and confused). I told Michael my great idea — “I’m gonna write a road journal about all these dead flies! It’ll be awesome!” And he laughed at me and said, “what, you think that’s a lot? That’s nothing. I didn’t even NOTICE those.” And that’s when I realized that the job of the tour bus driver is to see past the bugs and the senseless death littered across the windshield. To see the highway, to smell the wind, to feel the diesel fuel in your blood and the destination in your soul. To ignore your lazy eyelids, your need to pee, the strange noises coming from the lounge behind you…

Michael Stook, Didn’t
notice the bugs on his windshield.

Michael Stook, Never found out who shat in his toilet.

Michael Stook, “Don’t put me on your fucken website.”

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