Question for you: Would you drive eight hours, over 550 miles, for a hamburger? For most people, the answer to this is pretty obvious. For Rants, it’s open to serious debate, and of course the end justifies the means. So yes, motherfucker, if that hamburger is an In-n-Out, then double-fuck yes.
I planned a weekend trip and googled the shit out of the various routes. Also, weather, which we’ll revisit later. *cue ominous cello* The goal: the glorious In-n-Out Double Double. I checked out the fluids in the Blazer, added some more and loaded up with some road snacks, which under my current dietary regime consisted of apples and air. Granted, I was doing this to shit all over my Bangladeshi approach to eating, but fuck it. The trip down went well, and the picture pretty much sums up the scenery during the trip.
Because we started early enough, so that guaranteed that the target was acquired and engaged at the key moment of the day called ‘dinner.’ Nine hours of driving, two tanks of gas, and three piss-stops later, THIS: ——————->
Then more awesome happened. Obviously, I’m not driving nine hours, eating and then turning the fuck around and redriving. Besides, the weather in the Dallas area was a mild 80° and fuck yeah, Texas Spring. In February.
I browsed the biggest fucking Barnes and Noble I’ve ever seen, because Texas, and had a relaxing night to digest the awesomeness that is two and one-half Double Doubles. Fuck the diet, because In-n-Out.
The next day, another early start – sort of – and breakfast. Having destroyed the diet already, I reasoned, why not totally manfuck it to death for a day? Method? Waffle House.
Naturally, being in springtime weather (I had to use the air conditioning) made me thirsty, so one of the best solutions for fixing that problem is an Orange Julius. I can’t remember the last one I had, but I know I couldn’t drive a car when I had it. This time, I drove a car while I had it.
The final mouthwatering tidbit for y’all is this, taken in Oklahoma where I stopped for more gas. Of course, I didn’t buy any but I just discovered the very first remodeling job I’m doing to the house I don’t own yet, sometime after I retire from the Army.
My decision to pass on the beer at that point turned out to be a wise choice, because not thirty minutes later, I ran smack into another Cañadian Vortex from Hell and I-35 turned into an Olympic sliding-sport arena. Later, it turned to snow which meant I could drive faster than 30mph. Win… sort of. I’ll spare the details, but between the white-knuckle driving and the heater going full blast, it reminded me of being in a tank, minus the lactose-intolerant loader who decided to chug milk at breakfast.
All-in-all, this turned out to be an awesome road trip. Simple plan, simple goal, simple fun. The last four hours of the drive home were less than awesome, but its all good. What made it memorable was the company.