I can’t drive 55!
What used to take two hours, now takes all day. Ugh! It took me 15 hours to get to LA! Go on and write me up for one twenty five! Post my face, wanted dead or alive. I! Can’t! Drive! 55! Hmmmmm! You probably don’t know this about me but I love Sammy Hagar. It’s really a bro crush and I own it. It’s entirely possible that I’ve played his album, Standing Hampton more than any other in my life. I just love his voice, energy and zest for life. He leans into life. Ya know the type? I’ve actually met Sammy a few times. Seen many, many shows. Watched an entire show, side stage, with my buddy Johnny G once. The first time I saw Sammy, I sat in the very top row of Mile High stadium, in Denver, with my buddy, Trey. Van Halen was headlining a long day of Monsters of Rock and I just wanted to kick back, listen and enjoy. How does this relate to ALS? Well, I’ll tell you. It doesn’t. Hahahaha. Just kidding. The short answer is I like driving fast. Always have, always will. And Sammy wrote a great song about going fast. Now, you didn’t come here to hear a short story, so let’s get on with it. Shall we? Hmmmmm?
I have always enjoyed speed. Roller coasters, cars, bikes and whatever. However, it took me a while to be able to control it. I wrecked a lot. Mom’s new car? Smashed backing up too fast in a parking lot. Chevy Monza? The back slid out while trying to hang through the last corner up Ute pass and smashed it. Bought a Yamaha 750 Seca motorcycle. Got it up to 110 with my brother on the back while on the stretch to cripple creek. Sorry mom. Didn’t smash it that day… but I eventually smashed it. Toyota Corolla? My buddy smashed it. 73 Chevy Impala? Dropped a tie rod doing 85. Trey’s 85 Blazer? Laid it on its side while racing his dad. Will’s Camaro? Didn’t smash it! Woohoo! Hahaha!
Then there were the tickets. Lots of tickets. Did I learn my lesson? Well… Actually I learned a few. First, don’t get caught. Second, the further away from population centers, the faster you can go and the less the law cares. If you drive fast enough your car doesn’t get dirty. Bet you didn’t know that. Ha! If you’re ahead of everyone, mirrors and blinkers aren’t really necessary. And, last , radar detectors are not considered a qualified deduction for tax purposes. Hahaha. However, they are worth every penny, so buy the best. As a side note, having a commercial drivers license and a CCW go a long way with the badge carrying types. I got so many warnings instead of tickets, when I was clearly caught red handed. Hmmmmm? I’m sure that only emboldened me. Woohoo!
I knew my days of driving were few and numbered. ALS had already made it clear. Climbing in and out of my truck was getting harder. So I sold it. I knew my family would be coming for my keys. They have a track record of doing that. It had already started. Scott , Are you sure you should be driving, they would ask? Ugh! I’ve never needed two hands to drive before! Sheesh. For all of my lust for speed, what I really loved was the mindlessness of the open roads of the west. I could drive for hours, windows down, radio off and let my mind go blank. I didn’t need a destination and oftentimes there wasn’t one. When I would take the family on vacation, I would rent a convertible sports car as my treat to myself. Top down was the priority and I would sneak away often by myself for a drive. It was my therapy. Hmmmmm
I started looking at used convertibles and set a budget. Summer was coming and , fortunately for me, the world was closed for Covid. Less people on the road? Check. Cheap gas? Check. Social distancing the new normal? Check. All I needed was the right set of wheels. As I scrolled the internet I started convincing myself that increasing my budget didn’t really matter. I would drive the car for a year and then sell it, probably close to what I paid for it. It was an investment! Yeah! Investments are good things. Right? Right! So the budget increased. The options expanded and there it was! My dream car. A 2006 Corvette convertible. Monterey red with a black top. Titanium grey interior. Mint condition. Ridiculously low miles. Was it within budget? Nope. Did I care? Nope. I didn’t care one bit.
When I arrived to see the car I sat for a moment and tried to talk myself into being rational. But who was I kidding? Really, my only goal was to not pay full price and that was a long shot. The vette was parked in a climate controlled garage, covered. The sweetest old man kept it to take his wife through national parks, but now it was time to let it go. It only had 12,000 miles on it. As he gave me a tour of the car it was obvious it had sentimental value to him. He loved that car. And, so did I. We drove it through the subdivision and I got it up to 35! Woohoo! Did you know that Corvettes have a G force gauge? Yup! It measures the g force through a turn. I didn’t know that either but my immediate thought was, how high does it go! Hmmmmm?
Back at the house we started chatting a little more and he asked about my walking cane. I told him about ALS and Jennifer. I also went one step further and told him I wasn’t going to put the vette in a museum or baby it. I was going to drive it like I stole it, definitely getting a ticket or three, possibly be arrested and potentially smashing it. I didn’t want to smash it, but the precedent was there. Ya know? We had some pretty good laughs and then the awkward, pause, came. I wanted it. He invited me inside and introduced me to his wife. We sat for over an hour talking about the corvette before I broke down. He wanted 25000, I only had 20. That was my ceiling. I only brought a down payment anyway. After a brief sidebar they accepted my price and even offered to deliver it to me in Tahoe the next day. I was stunned. My eyes began leaking and then I was in a group hug. They loved my story and wanted me to be able to enjoy the car. I was overwhelmed but eagerly accepted. On my drive home I had to pull over. I openly wept for quite a while before I could pull myself together. It was the first thing in years that had gone in my favor and I needed the win. Does God give good deals on sports cars? I’ll be sure to ask him when I see him. Maybe he was tired of me throwing rocks? Hmmmmm?
When Sasha was delivered the next day, she was washed, waxed and had a full tank. After another round of hugs and thanks it was just me, Dakota and 400 horses. And yes, I named the corvette Sasha. I jumped in, hung my obligatory blue face diaper on the mirror and decided to go get some ice cream. I was gone for over 4 hours. Hahahaha. Vroom! Zoom!
Probably the best and most common advice I get, regarding a terminal diagnosis, is to live and be present in the moment. I think it’s excellent wisdom. It’s also extremely difficult and not my style, as I’ve mentioned in previous episodes. My future had been rewritten for me in an instant and I was just so lost. I’d become terribly ineffective in all parts of my life. Work, family,
friendships all were suffering. I was distracted and depressed and didn’t know where to turn. Ugh.
Every road out of the Lake Tahoe basin is a twisty turney two lane track through the Sierra Nevada. Most of the time it’s incredibly difficult to get up to 50 let alone opening it up. This is where the g forceometer comes in to use. Oh, yeah. Ebbets pass was fun to drive and incredibly beautiful, but the line of sight was way too short and I didn’t want to hurt anyone by being stupid. Now, monitor pass, that’s a little more forgiving to stupidity. Lots of long sweeping Turns and some straight aways with great visibility. There is a rise with a break over, right at the top, with another rise on the other side. Maybe a mile long stretch. I could stomp the gas and go from 30 to 120 and feel my cheeks rise out of the seat as I would crest the other side. It would run out into a long sweeping right that traversed the summit before starting the descent into Nevada. The vista was incredible. Easily a 100 mile view in any direction and not a soul in sight. It was never a busy road to begin with, but Tuesday afternoon during Covid? It was just me and God. G force read zero point 8 7. Rookie numbers. I knew I could do better. Hmmmmm.
I can’t tell you how many times I would do this. 50? Possibly. Just before the downhill begins, I would pull over, turn the engine off and sit. Sometimes for an hour or more. Thinking, praying, remembering. I was crying less these days. The shock of ALS and everything else was wearing off. Becoming emotionally numb. My compartmentalism skills were functioning a little bit better and I could feel my resolve and determination returning. Could I beat ALS? Could I manage it? Maybe be a one percenter? God works in mysterious ways. Right? Right! Hmmmmm? I think during this time I accepted that I wasn’t going to realize my miracle until my last days. That God wasn’t going to reach down and touch me and I would wake up and be normal again. In retrospect, my normal was broken anyway. I wouldn’t go back, even if I could. Nope. My miracle will unfold over the long haul, the way it always has before. I’m okay with that…most days. Ya know? Don’t have a choice, really. It’s all about faith. Hmmmmm.
I put over 10,000 miles on Sasha in 6 months. I drove down to Vegas to spend some time with Tony and Connie and family. We had such a great time cruising around and talking about everything except ALS. We even cruised the Las Vegas strip with the top down and music turned up. I’m sure we looked ridiculous. It was perfect. I cut through Death Valley on my way back home. It was totally empty. Straight roads for miles. So fast. So very very fast. Zoom!
My favorite trip, I took my daughter and we drove out together to Oklahoma. I knew this wasn’t going to happen again so I set us up for success. Beef jerky, almond m and m’s, and the radar detector. I only told her two things. I would pay any tickets we got but anything over 100 would probably get us both arrested, and the car was mostly plastic and if we wrecked, we die. Then I handed her the key and away we went. Zoom! I could write a novel about that trip. I will never forget the widest smile that girl ever had. Stereo cranked. Sunglasses on. Ponytail flapping. As the speedometer pushed up into triple digits. Zoom. You know who else will never forget that? Ever? My daughter. Yup. Best idea ev er!
Emily caught a flight back to Tahoe because school was starting and she had her fill of dad time. I pointed Sasha west with only one goal, stay off the interstate. The trip across the plains was good but uneventful. I set the cruise, turned the stereo off and let my mind wander. Hours rolled by along with the miles. I’ve made this trip before. More than once. I kept my eyes on the horizon and patiently searched for my prize. Glimpsing the first peaks of the Rocky Mountain range. I’d first witnessed my first mountain rise when I was 12. It’s still awe inspiring every time and the little kid in me is still mesmerized. It never gets old. Pikes peak, to the southwest, is always the first to come into view. The front range quickly follows along with the Denver skyline. Fun time was only one sleep away and I pulled into the hotel to get some rest.
I was up early, and got some fuel for Sasha and me, before hitting the road. As the elevation rose I found my exit. No map. No gps. No rules. Head west, all the way to Salt Lake City, back roads only. I put the top down and put Sasha into sport mode. Electrified Magnets help tighten the corvette suspension, reducing body roll and engaging steering control and other cool stuff I know nothing about. Paddle shifters on the steering wheel for a quicker down shift speedo and g force gauge showed in the heads-up display and we were off. Wide and fat tires would keep me glued to the pavement. Blue skies, tight Canyons and tall mountain passes for hours were all on the menu and it was time to eat. Zoom. Zoom.
It would take hours and days to properly describe the next upteen hours of pure American muscle shangri la. Me, Sasha and God roaring through the church of the tall trees. Hundreds of miles of rivers, waterfalls and mountains. Slow on the average day, now desolate because of Covid. Literally, no one. I needed to be alone. I was reviewing my past. Not being remorseful or melancholy, mind you. More like contemplative and prayerful. I’ve asked the question, more than once, how do you recognize the voice of God vs the other voices in your head? The popular answer is, it’s different for everybody. I like that answer. Don’t you? Vroom!
I rolled into Salt Lake City shortly after sunset. Ordered room service and slept like a baby. 600 miles to go. I woke up early again and headed towards home. While there are side roads through Utah and Nevada, there is such a thing as too desolate. Breaking down out there, without ALS, that would totally suck. But With ALS? Too high of a risk and sometimes questionable road quality. Besides, all the twisty turny roads were now behind me. This stretch has a different allure. Flat and fast with great line of sight and liberal to nonexistent speed enforcement the deeper into nowhere you go. This time the top was up for aerodynamics and the volume was too. A big thanks to the inventor of satellite radio too. Hahahaha.
It was easy to cruise along at 100, and I did. You have to pay a little more attention out there. As the days temperature rises, mirages will also rise up off the road and salt flats. It’s wild if you’ve never seen one. Just before the Utah/Nevada border are the Bonneville salt flats. You might have heard of them? The entire area is flat and bright white with salt for miles and miles in every direction. It’s like being on another planet. Not much lives out there. Do you know what else isn’t out there? The Poe poe. I pushed on the gas and Sasha jumped. The numbers climbed and the fuel gauge dropped. Now, it’s one thing to just go fast for a little but sustained high speeds are difficult to achieve and maintain. Tunnel vision is a real thing. Ya know? I pushed harder. I could
feel the seat bolsters hugging me as I was pushed back into the seat. The numbers continued their triple digit rise as we accelerated. My adrenaline was surging and I was sweating pretty good. Miles ticked away. I could see nothing in my way so I pushed again, harder this time and Sasha moved under me. This time I could feel the nose start to lighten and my cheeks tightened. Becoming airborne was a possibility I hadn’t fully considered until that moment. The Corvette stabilization Chinga derah did its thing and she settled and purred. Was there such a thing as going too fast? Yes. At least that day there was. I don’t have a death wish. More than that, I have responsibilities, especially to my daughter. Besides, I got to do what I wanted to do. A lot of people don’t get to do that. Hmmmmm.
I lifted my foot off the gas and just coasted as I slowed down. Savoring my victory of cheating death I dropped down to a now painfully slow 85 and started looking for a gas station. I pulled up and left the engine run a little with the hood open so we could both cool down before shutting her off. I filled her up and then grabbed my cane and headed inside for a drink and snack. I opened the cooler door, grabbed a Gatorade, and just as I turned, I caught my toe on the tile grout and I fell, pulling a small snack rack down with me. I’ve never fallen in public. There was no way I could get up myself. ALS was back. The cashier tried to help me but she wasn’t strong enough. Fortunately there were some bigger guys to help. What a shit show! Damn it! Nothing was hurt except my pride. I was so embarrassed. I quickly paid for my things and then cautiously sulked my way Back to the car. The rest of the drive home was pretty uneventful. It could have been much worse. I had been able to ignore ALS for the better part of two weeks. Can’t be too mad about that. Right? Right!
The last time I drove Sasha, my buddy Al Dee, had driven up from the Bay to see us and we both wanted to go for a drive. My progression had continued and I now relied on a walker to get around. Of course I could still drive. Trust me. I could see Al wasn’t convinced but he was humoring me. I fell into my seat rather than sitting in it which didn’t help my cause either. I fired up the winning engine, responding with a roar. Tires spitting gravel, I commit my weekly crime. Thanks Niel! Once again I headed south to Monitor pass. This time was different. ALS had aged me. It was harder to anticipate and steer through the turns. The g force fun meter barely moved and Al bitched at me like my grandma, telling me to slow down. I ignored it all but I was aware of what was happening. It was almost over. I hit the straight away at full speed and punched it. Even at 70 the tires spun before gripping and we launched! I could just barely hear Al yelling over the roar of the exhaust. I didn’t look at him. My hat flew off my head and I briefly saw it sail away in the rear view mirror. I just watched the speedometer climb and climb and climb. I could never go fast enough. It’s how I am. Ya know?
About half way up Monitor I pulled over and turned off the car. I couldn’t go any further. My arms hurt and were tired and weak. My calf muscle was cramping. My fingers were clawed around the steering wheel and it took effort to pry them away. Al had to pull me up and out of the car because I couldn’t do it myself. I leaned against Sasha and had an arm around Al as he helped me shuffle my dragging feet around to the passenger seat. I hugged him as I cried over my defeat, before sitting down and letting Al buckle me in. Neither of us spoke on the drive home.
Al put the cover on the car and closed the garage door. Hanging the keys on the rack. Hmmmmm.
I never drove again.
