1990.03/12 Cross Country Trip I

EXCERPTED FROM LETTER TO ROBIN HOBAN

                                  Fleming House   1-57
                                  California Institute of Technology
                                  Pasadena, California   91126
                                  'Pon this day April the Third,
                                    Nineteen Hundred Ninety Anno Domini


Dearest Janet Robin,
    Clearly the astonishment which thou expressed over my call long a 
fortnight ago was made twofold this morning when I received thy manuscript by 
post.  I was quite pleasantly surprised at the letter (for, as thou mayest 
already surmised in thy sojourn as a freshmen, mail is to the university 
student as nourishment is to the starving man) and eagerly devoured the 
contents therein.  I prithee, allow me repay thy kindness in replying by 
relating the events which have shaped my life of late.  
    This past term calamity befell me.  (A bit of trivia: Caltech doth work on
trimesters.  The aforementioned term was the middle son of three.)  I was ill 
of health, beset by many minor maladies, and much time was spent in 
recuperation, rather than at my studies.  Though eventually I was forced to 
underload that trimester, I feel fortunate that I did not fell prey to some 
major disease while mine energies were at such a low ebb.  Please fear not for
my well-being (for I know of your sensitive temperament); I am presently fit 
and full of vigor, and the academics proceed apace once more.
    Nevertheless, though my health had improved considerably, with the dawn of
the spring break (which is three weeks long at Caltech, for it falls 'twixt 
the terms second and third) I felt a great longing stir within my fragile 
frame.  I had not the opportunity nor the finances to spend Christmas with my 
family, and the Holy Holidays (which are normally times of great rejoicing) 
hung heavily 'pon my shoulders.  I yearned to see the sights from mine youth 
yet again, and wished to rekindle the embers of my friendships.  It was in 
this devil-may-care state of mind that I undertook a bold and perhaps 
foolhardy endeavor.
    Two fellow Techers, Shun Tsai and Tzanetos Phillipakos (also known as John,
for simplicity), and myself conceived of a daring plan to traverse the length 
of this great nation armed with only meagre monetary wealth, immense personal 
fortitude, and John's black Camaro.  We three all lived 'pon the coastal East 
and shared the common desire to be warmed by the fires of our own respective 
hearths.  The journey would be difficult, without doubt; but each of us was 
willing to brave the dangers ahead.  Little did we suspect what adventure 
Atropos, Klotho, and Lachesis had planned for us. 
    We began our voyage after noon on Monday, 'pon the Twelfth of March.  The 
giant orb Sol strew its beams 'cross an uncluttered sky, and our spirits were 
high as we raced uncontested down the highways.  When our speed reached 91 
miles per hour, we would exclaim "Warp Factor 1!" at 92, "Warp Factor 2!", 
etc.; until 100 miles per hour, when we would shout "Warp Factor 10; We're 
traveling back through time!"  We warped out of California, through Nevada, 
and into Utah within two hands of hours, an auspicious omen for so long a 
trip.  But our fortune was to change.
    As we drove through the state of Utah, the air chilled ominously and snow 
flurries intercepted our path.  While proceeding cautiously along a snow 
covered road, the vehicle spun out (for reasons still unknown) and completed 
one full rotation before it slowed down to a halt.  Luckily, the path was 
straight and level and barren of other motorists; we, though understandably 
excited, were unscathed by the incident.  After a suitable rest, in which we 
regained our bearings and calmed our fluttering hearts, began we once again.
    Thus far John and Shun had been driving, relieving one another as needed, 
but the long miles and weary hours had begun to take their toll.  I volunteered
to drive, as I had slept whilst they drove, and felt myself to be more alert 
than they.  Being a conservative man, I decided that four score miles per hour
was an adequate speed (as opposed to the others' predeliction for warp 
speeds).  Not more than a single hand of minutes passed after I sat behind the
wheel ere I was apprehended by the constabulary of the state of Utah.  Flashing
lights materialized mysteriously behind us; I pulled over and girded myself for
the ordeal which was to follow.
    Though exceeding the posted speed limit in itself is a serious offense, my
predicament was exacerbated that I had previously never found the time to 
obtain a license for driving, and that my permit had expired ages past.  When 
the officer asked to see my driver's license, honesty overcame me and I told 
him flatly that I did not have one (to the great surprise of my compatriots, 
thou mayest be assured).  The policeman misconstrued my rather blatant 
statement to mean that I possessed a license but was not porting it 'pon my 
person.  The ticket I received for speeding and no valid license totaled ninety
five dollars, an infinitely better alternative to the instant arrest of driving
without a license.
    Onward we journeyed.  'Pon the Thirteenth, we entered Colorado, the nexus 
of our expected itinerary and the Mountains of Rock.  The state entire was 
blanketed in a blizzard of biblical proportions, obscuring the passes and 
making travel treacherous.  'Twas on a sloping, winding path that control of 
the vehicle was lost yet once more.  The Camaro completed two full rotations 
before striking the guard rail on the driver's side, crashing through said rail
and nearly flipping over, and finally landing 'pon the passenger's side and 
wedging itself in foot-thick snow.  Alas, we were stranded in the mountains 
amidst a raging snowstorm with no provisions nor means to elicit aid.
    Though the situation was most unseemly, it was, in reality, much worse than
it seemed.  John had inquired of his parents some months before if he could 
partake of a cross-country trip, and his parents reply had been a categorically
lethal negative.  So, John had convinced his progenitors that his route back to
New York would be aerial in nature, and would arrive sometime late Thursday 
night.  With the car apparently smashed, John would have to purchase not only 
its repair but also tickets home (both at exorbitant prices), in order that his
sire's suspicion be not aroused.  Needless to say, John was in a state of high 
anxiety, and his shivers were not just from the encroaching cold.
    The flakes fell with increasing furor.  Periodically we brushed off the 
Camaro, that it might be seen from the road.  The seconds stretched into hands
of minutes, and we began formulating plans for our survival.  However, the 
eternal balance was to be satisfied, for the evil karma of the accident was 
weighed against the good of a speedy rescue.  A patrolman found us within a 
half hour, and a tow-truck was on the scene within a brace.  Once the vehicle 
was freed from its frozen confinement (a sheen of ice had formed all around the
car) it was towed back onto the roadway, where we assessed the damage.  
    Though the port door was rendered inoperable and the left front wheel was 
mangled, we discovered to our obvious delight that the engine was completely 
untouched and that the transmission was but slightly impaired.  John decided to
administer an "acid-test" and drive the vehicle through the snow to the tow-
truck's garage, along the same curving paths where we had initially spun out.
John was visibly tense as we proceeded along, and I tried to alleviate his 
condition with humor.  "Well, Captain," I said in deadly serious scottish 
voice, "We've lost warp capability and are reduced to impulse power now."  
After some other carefully administered pleasantries, combined with the 
Camaro's adequate handling, John eventually relaxed.  
    The cost of dislodging the car from the snow was one-hundred fifty dollars.
It appeared as if the only major damage was a misalignment of the left front 
wheel, a malfunction which could be borne if John was to arrive on time.  We 
continued at an agonizingly slow pace through Colorado, but after some several 
hours we were free of the snow.  Soon after we left the mountains behind us and
entered the Great Plains; by mutual consent we decided to warp through the 
featureless terrain.  If the car could withstand warp speeds, then the time 
lost in Colorado could be quickly compensated for.  The vehicle shuddered at 
the high velocity, but shook not apart.  
    We entered the state of Kansas at 5:05 Post Meridian on Tuesday, March the 
Thirteenth, Nineteen Ninety Anno Domini; this I recall with inspired clarity.  
A continuous line of clouds hung above the horizon, tinted a blazing orange by 
the receding rays of Apollo's fiery chariot.  The topmost portion of the clouds
were  (as clouds normally are), but the bottom was flat, as 
if they met some invisible barrier there.  As we drove along, the clouds 
eclipsed the sky entire, and an artificial night fell 'pon us.  Though our 
speed was in the warp velocities, a full two score minutes passed ere we 
reached the far side of the clouds.
    The formation hung above us like some massive Sword of Damocles, wavering 
in divine indecision.  Whilst underneath the clouds, John and I noticed subtle 
flashes of light in the dark; when we attained the eastern edge, we identified 
their source.  Gigantic bolts of lightning were leaping from cloud to cloud, 
illuminating the heavens with their power.  Zeus was in full regalia: the skies
were wreathed with cracking energy, and booming thunder trumpeted Jupiter's 
arrival.  Perhaps the gods were in a festive mood that night, or may be they 
felt mankind should be reminded of their elders; for whatever reason, nature's 
might was unleashed 'pon Kansas (and us) that fateful day.
    Since my close encounter with the authorities, my companions had seen fit 
to ban me from driving; in order to compensate for this lack, I was assigned 
other tasks, such as keeping the driver awake and seeing to the vehicle's fuel.
It was the latter duty which now attracted my notice.  We had but a third of a
tank of gasoline, a considerable amount which would last a couple of hours, yet
nary enow to reach the next state.  I therefore convinced John (with some 
difficulty, considering the circumstances) that we must needs stop for fuel 
and do so immediately, though the Furies barred our way.
    We visited three gas stations to no avail (with the wisdom of hindsight, it
is easy to see why the owners' halted their services amidst a roiling lightning
storm) but Tyche gifted us an open fourth.  The attendant at the station 
suggested that we listen to 1150AM on the radio, that we might listen to the 
weather information.  As we pulled onto the highway, two events happened near 
simultaneously.  John spotted a sign which read "Saline County / Salina 8 
[miles]", and I tuned into the radio station.  My memory fails me the exact 
words the announcer said, but the general form was as follows:
    --"All citizens within Saline County or the Salina area please take shelter
now.  Several tornadoes are converging upon Saline County, and they will touch 
down in less than ten minutes.  If you are at home, get to the subbasement 
immediately.  If you are on the road, pull over and flatten yourself out in a 
low ditch; whatever you do, don't stay in the vehicle.  We repeat, if you are 
in Saline County or the Salina area, you should find shelter now!"  --Since he 
placed great value 'pon our well-being, John turned onto the nearest exit and 
stopped at the closest building.  Our haven from the storm was a roadside 
restaurant (which had a dramatic influx of consumers for the duration), the 
owner of which was continually informing newcomers the location of the 
basement.
    Whilst we were relatively proof 'gainst the storm, our faithful chariot was
still bared helpless to the winds, for, without doubt, the Camaro would be 
destroyed in even a casual encounter with a tornado.  Therefore, with the aid 
of a Walkman and a map of the state, we set about charting the courses of the 
various whirlwinds.  Prospects looked bleak as we began our fevered mapping; 
Salina was ringed entire by a seemingly impenetrable circle of tornadoes.  Yet 
as the hands of minutes passed, a narrow channel appeared to the east, along 
our intended path.  'Twould be foolhardy indeed to stake our lives on such a
miniscule opening; yet, by mutual consent, we returned to the car and braved 
the storm once more.  (Shun utilized his instant warp method: 1st gear to 2nd 
to 5th, to start us on our way.)
    The sights I beheld on that ride will remain with me 'till my last day.  
The whirlwinds were but miles away from the car, wreaking inestimable damage 
`pon the surrounding countryside.  The town of Heston was literally erased from
the map, for a brace of tornadoes touched down within the center fairgrounds, 
demolishing the town proper.  A single tornado followed us the full length of 
Kansas, occasionally ripping asphalt from the road behind us.  The lightning 
filled the skies, flashing streaks which left green ghost images 'pon my mortal
orbs.  Truly, my meagre words cannot convey the grand majesty and imperial fury
of that tempest.  
    Soon after we left the bounds of Kansas, the storm tapered off, and the 
stars were visible once again.  A lull fell over us as we sped along, the 
danger seemingly spent.  Yet, unbeknowst to the travelers, besides the visible
injuries which the Camaro had suffered in the accident, a more subtle, hidden 
malfunction lie in waiting.  The suspension was in error, unable to compensate 
for warp velocities; as a result, the front wheels were rubbing 'gainst the 
wheel wells for the best part of a thousand miles.  The tire treads were worn 
down and the steel belts exposed; consequently, the front wheels had nearly no 
traction.
    This defect soon became significant.  Midway through the state of Ohio we 
encountered a rainstorm, which would normally be little cause for concern.  But
once the roads became slick, the front wheels assumed a mind of their own, and 
slid randomly back and forth.  Shun had to slow down to twenty miles per hour 
to prevent our early demise, so erratic was the vehicle.  Fortunately the rain 
was moving against us, and we quickly broke free of the storm.  A thorough 
search of the Camaro by the roadside soon revealed the difficulty.  Shun and I 
conferred with John, and we mutually decided to change our itinerary.
    Since the fiasco in the mounts, we had made considerable time, so much so 
that we were a full twelve hours ahead of schedule.  John suggested that we 
head toward Oberlin College, in Oberlin, Ohio (which was but a stone's throw 
away) and not only repair the vehicle but also visit his cousin Helen.  It 
seemed an expedient course, for we could rest and recuperate whilst the Camaro 
was rejuvenated.  We arrived at the campus after noon, and swiftly made our way
to Helen's residence.  (I learned later that John had intended to visit his 
cousin all along, unveiling the proposed detour to Shun and I midvoyage; our 
misfortune luckily coincided with his desires.)
    Of course, Helen was attending her classes, and would be quite unreachable 
for the next couple hours.  We took advantage of the time by tidying the car 
and cleaning ourselves, a luxurious indulgence after hours of cramped 
isolation.  Afterwards, John and I went in search of replacement tires; Shun 
decided to explore the campus on his own (which, by the by, was brimming with 
beautiful specimens of the fairer sex).  John and I visited four tire stores 
ere we succeeded on the fifth; apparently, the Camaro must needs have special 
tires made specifically for sports cars.  Our perseverance would be rewarded, 
however.
    When we entered the parking lot of the store, by pure happenstance we 
parked aside another Camaro; the car was a gleaming baby blue, adorned 
internally with unworn leather upholstery.  The attendant at the counter 
informed us that they must needs about forty-five minutes and two-hundred forty
dollars to replace the two front tires.  Not ten minutes had passed after John
relinquished the car keys ere the mechanic came out to question him.  He 
inquired as to the location of the key to the wheel locks, which John met with 
a look of utter incredulity.  (Apparently sports cars have special locks 'pon 
the wheels to prevent miscreants from stealing them.)  John had purchased his 
vehicle in an auction and knew not about the existence of the locks; 
consequently, he did not possess their key.  John had an inspired solution of
 which King Solomon would be proud; he ordered the mechanic to cut all four 
wheel-locks in half.  A few minutes later the whine of a large saw could be 
heard, and sparks flew about the interior of the garage.
    I can only conjecture what the mechanic must have seen and felt once he 
removed the wheels.  A mangled frame, worn tires, misaligned wheels, and a 
loose suspension.  However, I can describe his reaction: "Settle down, you 
guys," he said sternly to us, "because you're staying here an extra hour."  
John protested to the man, but with no effect.  A brace of hours passed, and 
customers were queueing up because the mechanic was servicing our vehicle.  He 
eventually emerged from the garage with a wearied face, and admonished my 
companion: "Don't you ever let this happen to a Camaro again.  Ever."
    John made payment good with a credit card; the bill tallied two-hundred 
fifty dollars: one-hundred apiece for the tires, forty for the change, and ten 
for cutting the wheel locks.  John pulled slowly onto the road, and his face 
turned ashen as we proceeded.  He turned to me and said softly, "Oh man, Kim, 
I've got to warp."  Within moments we were speeding at one hundred miles per 
hour.  John hesitantly let go of the steering wheel, and the vehicle hummed 
straight as an arrow down the road.  The mechanic had not only replaced our 
tires but also fixed our alignment and suspension as well .  (On a hunch I had 
learned that the mechanic was the owner of the Camaro parked outside the store.
I believe that he simply couldn't bear to see a Camaro in pain, and used his 
arts to heal its wounds.)  
    We were well met by Helen and Shun when we returned to campus.  The two 
cousins greeted one another formally, and Greek flowed freely from their lips;
Shun vividly and eagerly descried to me the various women which he had seen on 
his sojourn.  Unfortunately, the long hours had caught up with me (recall that 
I was responsible for keeping the driver alert, and had therefore acquired 
little sleep for nearly fifty-four hours) and I was unable to maintain a lively
conversation.  I politely requested a place to slumber of Helen; she bequeathed
me her room key and bade me sleep in her bed.  Never wanting to disappoint a 
lady, I staggered to her room and retired 'pon the mattress which I found 
there.
    I had barely begun to breathe Morpheus's Mists ere the door opened and the 
sultry figure of devastatingly beautiful woman entered.  She stopped abruptly,
gazed at me, and said quite equably, "Hello.  Who are you and what the Hell are
you doing in my bed?"  I answered with as much equanimity as I could muster, 
"I'm Helen's cousin John's friend Kim from California.  I was tired and Helen 
said that I could crash out here."  Apparently Helen had forewarned her 
roommate Carla (if not myself) and it was permissible for me to stay.  As I 
nodded off, I heard Carla's boyfriend enter and eventually both of them leave.
    John and Shun had decided amongst themselves to rest at Oberlin until ten, 
since we had regained full warp capability.  So I slept well into the night, 
rather than the couple hours which I had originally intended.  Sometime ere 
the clock struck ten, the door to Helen's room opened yet again.  In my stupor,
I was vaguely aware of another presence entering the room.  I opened mine eyes 
fractionally, and in the light of the full moon I beheld a fantastic sight.
    Carla had entered the room cautiously, and scrutinized me to assure that I 
was asleep.  Apparently satisfied, she slowly opened a drawer and removed some 
garments therein.  Then she began to disrobe in the center of the room, until 
she stood completely naked before me.  The silvery moonlight played across her 
well-toned body whilst she shimmied into a pair of black lace panties.  Then 
she slipped into a silk nightgown and smoothed the fabric over her ample 
breasts.  Carla assessed herself in a full-length mirror by the bed, making 
sure that she was desirable from every conceivable angle.
    I canst well assure thee that I was fully awake by now.  My pulse quickened
(with what I must admit was voyeuristic delight) and my temperature rose 
(creating a light sheen of sweat which covered my body entire).  Fantasies 
swirled within my mind.  Perhaps foolishly, I believed that perchance I was 
the object of her ardor, and I struggled to retain my slumberlike composure.  
Finally, her inspection complete, she strode toward the door, opened it, kissed
her boyfriend, and the two of them left.  (Needless to mention, I found it 
quite difficult to sleep after this incident.)
    Little remains of the tale of our cross-country trip (in a way, one might 
say it reached its climax with my nocturnal encounter).  At ten we bade 
farewell to Helen and Oberlin, and warped to New York in less than two hands of
hours.  From there, each went his separate way.  Shun took the vehicle and 
drove to Philadelphia, less than an hour away.  John hailed a taxi and appeared
at home later that night, having just arrived from his 'flight.'  I caught a 
train from Penn Station to South Station in Boston.  From there, by means of 
the subway, another train, and mine own two feet, I arrived at my doorstep 
little more than seventy-four hours after the adventure had begun.  
    The time I spent at home well compensated for the perils and discomforts I 
had experienced on the voyage.  My family was complete with my return, for my 
sister was already living upstairs and my brother had moved into the basement 
following his discharge from the United States Marine Corps.  A long 
interregnum had intervened last we were all together in the same house, and 
unlike some others, it was a joyous reunion indeed.  Also was I rejoined with 
mine acquaintances of old, and I was moved beyond words to discover the fires 
of friendship still burned brightly.  I was welcomed as if I had left but 
yesterday.
    Though the time was well spent, it was far too short, and soon I found 
myself preparing for the return to California.  John, Shun, and myself slowly 
converged 'pon the appointed place in New York, and once assembled we began 
without a moment's hesitation.  However, unlike its complement, the return 
trip was uneventful.  (John was given a one hundred thirty-six dollar ticket 
for speeding in Oklahoma, but that was a comparatively small event.)  In fact, 
we made such good (warp) time that we mutually decided to rest at the Grand 
Canyon to enliven our trip.  Even with this eight hour stop, our total voyage 
was less than fifty-nine hours long.  
    When the third term began, I became embroiled in academia, envigored by my 
return home.  In order to compensate for the horribly few courses which I 
finished the previous, I enrolled in fifty-four units of courses this 
trimester.  (The Caltech unit system equates to approximately one hour of work 
per week per unit; a fifty-four unit workload implies about fifty-four hours of
work per week on academics alone.)  While the load is not tremendous, the work 
itself is by no means easy (as thou must surely have perceived at thine own 
university).  I have accepted such as my lot in life, and usually I revel in 
the challenge; somedays, however, I groan under the burden.  An enumeration of 
my courses follows:
Course 	Description                          Professor
Ph 2c   Thermodynamics and                   Politzer 
        Statistical Mechanics
Ma 2c   Mulitivariable Calculus and          Luxemburg
        Probability Theory
Ma 3    Introduction to Number Theory        Ramakrishnan
Ma 5c   Introduction to Abstract Algebra     Wales (Prince of)
H 118   Britain and Her Empire               Fay (Andre)
PS 101  Political Psychology                 Knight (Shining)
    Other than my coursework, little else has entered my life of late.  It has 
thus far been simply another term at Caltech.
    I am sure that I have strained the patience of the kind and gentle reader 
with my extended ramblings.  Allow me to close my letter with gratitude for thy
letter, and the sincere hope that thou whilst return my correspondence.  What 
events have shaped thy life of late?  Are thy loved ones in good health and 
good humor?  I do await thy reply most eagerly.

                    Forever thy ardent friend,

                            Kim Lumbard

                            Signed and sealed 'pon this day 
                            May the Eighteenth, 
                            Nineteen-Hundred Ninety Anno Domini