Goin' Out To Cally - Part 3, Space Invaders

Ignorance is a wonderful thing. It allows you to make stupid decisions that often have wonderfully catastrophic consequences. You also find yourself doing things and attempting challenges you never would have dreamed of tackling had you known enough to make a wiser decision.

Such was the case of putting together four unique personalities on an extensive road trip in a small car... I knew Tim, I didn't really know Beth and I didn't really know Sunday. And I certainly didn't know if our four personalities would react as soothing elements or cause random, cataclysmic explosions. Yet, we were now unified like some wicked Survivor episode, stuck in an Acura Integra for approximately twenty-one days over the Summer of '88. Knowing what I know now, I would have cancelled the trip all together. But, then, I wouldn't have this story to tell. So, in this case, ignorance worked in my favor.

An '87 Acura Integra

Tim picked me up in St. Pete. Packing for a long trip knowing you're going to be in a car without a lot of space was a challenge. Fortunately for me, I overcame the obstacle by simply not owning that many clothes. I took my meager belongings and shoved it into the back of Tim's almost new 1987 blue Acura Integra. It sat four comfortably, had a new fangled CD player and the engine purred as you moved the stick shift from one accelerating gear to another. We took the short hour long trip up to Brooksville and picked up Beth, whom had packed accordingly. There was just enough space for Sunday's luggage in the trunk.

We met Sunday that morning at her apartment complex. We were all happily anxious to get on our way and Tim and I gladly offered to help Sunday with her luggage. That's when physics and geometry got in the way. Damn that college education! Eyeing Sunday's luggage and calculating the available space in the trunk, the weight of said luggage, breathable oxygen and that hard to define space in a car that separates harmony from growing resentment... well, unless my abacas was wrong, things just weren't going to add up.

Never the less, we pulled her luggage down to the car and dropped it at the base of the trunk. With the luggage even closer, the impending package problem seemed more evident. The issue was that Sunday actually packed for a twenty-one day trip. True, the trip was intended to be twenty-one days... but we didn't expect her to pack twenty-one pants, bras, panties, socks, shoes along with the appropriate hair care products, toiletries and, as I lifted her large duffle bag into the back of the car, was certain she had packed lead in there as well, just for giggles.

The trunk wouldn't close and we knew some creative reshuffling was required. Not only because the duffle bag wouldn't fit, but because that was only one-third of her luggage. I remember asking her what she packed or why she packed so much or why she existed in human form, but her reply seemed valid, commenting on female necessities and feeling pretty and her inherent urge to make people want to kill her.

Okay, the human form and killing comments are exaggerations, but I do remember vaguely trying to understand how I could survive on five pairs of underwear, some socks, a couple of shirts and pants and one pair of sneakers and she needed three tons of Madonna closet leftovers, a small salon stock of hair care products and various silky skimpy lingerie items for a trip where most of our time will be spent camping.

Overwhelmed with the urge to get on the road with the assumption that this was our hardest part of the journey, Tim and I moved some of the smaller pieces out of the trunk and into the foot space in the interior of the car. We pulled out our slide rules and atomic clocks and figured out how to redesign space and time to fit all of the remaining luggage into the trunk. At first, the trunk wouldn't close. I jumped and put all of my weight on it and it still wouldn't close. Tim joined me in a unified jump and we celebrated the CLICK of the locked trunk with a high five.

Sunday and I squeezed into the back seat, now without anyplace to put our feet, held our pillows in our arms and tried to get comfortable. Beth simmered slightly as her foot space was also now full of various traveling items. The only completely luggage-free zone was the driver's seat, where Tim happily landed. He started the car and we headed toward our first destination.

In the coming hours, Sunday and I would pass our time with long conversations, ignoring an awkwardly intimate history.

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Goin' Out To Cally - Part 3, Audio

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 2, The Fourth Wheel
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 2, Audio

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 1, The Seed Planted
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 1, Audio