For days, since Kerry Leigh first joined us in New Orleans, Renaud has not been wearing his seatbelt in the truck. At first it was just that there were three of us and only two seatbelts, but since our heartfelt goodbye with Kerry Leigh in Austin, Renaud has been not wearing it, despite my insisting, and occasionally pretending to be wearing it when we passed a cop or something. When questioned, he says he is an old French punk and that there are also "sentimental reasons perhaps, non?" (reaching back almost two whole days) that he was not wearing it. This photo is Renaud's seatbelt just after our tire shredded at 85 mph.
After our near-death experience in the blizzard outside Flagstaff just 2 weeks ago, this sign might have made us cringe....
But we're over that...
I mean look at us: we survived the blizzard, the truckers that wanted to beat Renaud up for taking pictures of the Subway sandwich meat, the Arkansan guy and his wine on valentine's day...
We survived broken cameras, broken ipods, we changed wiper blades, Renaud went two weeks in the same pants, we got the blues pretty bad, I mean bad, I mean the kind of blues that makes you not want to press the gas pedal, man, cause them blues got a hold of you. We survived academia, Elvis freaks, Mardi Gras, the New Orleans Circus Flu, blown tires, Texas!!!!
