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=   F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K.   =
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                        Idaho Has Its Revenge
                        ---------------------

     So it's around 10:30 on Friday night and we're making pretty good
time. We made it from Portland to Boise in about six and a half hours.
Boise isn't too bad, but Shaedow and I have decided that we really don't
like Idaho as a whole. Driving through there the first time, on our way
up to Oregon, we passed many towns that could easily be the setting for
Deliverance and we had a few laughs by making inbreeding jokes that could
just as easily have been the truth. "I'm gonna make you squeeel like a pig,
boy," kept a' coming to mind.Every time Shaedow even said the word "Idaho"
there was a very distinct tone of contempt in his voice. We stopped in Twin
Falls to eat on our way up to Boise the first time and decided we hated
Twin Falls and we were never going there again. The whole state was just
way too po' dunk, redneck for me.  Now that I think back, I shouldn't have
laughed when Troy, our traveling companion, got three of his tires flattened
while staying in Boise. I should have known it was a sign.
     So like I was saying, we're making good time. Shaedow is driving
and I'm just thinking about all the shit I have to do when I get home. I'm
a bit anal when it comes to getting things done, so I'm actually working
out my schedule for the rest of the week in my head. I figured I'd get
home by Saturday afternoon, so I would have plenty of time to study for
my test on Monday and I may even get my painting assignments done a little
early. As I'm flipping through my mental day-planner, I see it. Then we hit 
it. I'm not sure what it was but it made a none too pleasant noise when
the bottom of the car nailed it. 
     It takes me a few seconds to regain composure. Shaedow and I just
look at each other, wondering what the hell that was when I smell the
anti-freeze coming through the vents. Shaedow looks at the heat gauge and
it holds itself steadily in the red. We pull over to see what kind of
damage had been done. shaedow goes to the trunk for a flashlight and I 
go a few yards away to relieve myself. I'm walking back to the car,
nearly getting my clothes ripped off by the closely passing semi trucks,
when Shaedow says, "Hey. Do you want to see what we hit?"
     "Whaddya mean?" I ask as I walk to join him. I look under the front
of the car to where he's shining the flashlight and my chin almost hit the
ground. Evidently we had  hit a huge block of wood and it wanted to come
along for the ride, as it was embedded in the radiator, don't ask me how.
     I'm not very pleased with this situation. We're in bum fuck Egypt,
right next to the sign pointing out the next exit that will take us to
Wendell, Idaho. There are no signs of civilization in either direction so
I am at a loss. I suggest that we wait for a pig to come by, but Shaedow
isn't into it. At this point our options are to either inch it into Wendell
and work it out from there, or try to make it 20 more miles to Twin Falls
and risk blowing the car up. We decide to creep to Wendell. Fortunately for
us there was a small town hiding in the trees which was comprised of a gas
station, a towing garage, a small motel (with its neon "M" and "O" burned
out), a bar and a movie theater. We leave the car at the gas station and
haul all our shit to the "TEL" two blocks away. We get a room and decide
to find out about the local mechanics in the morning. 
      We watch a little T.V. and try to relax. After a while we, get to
talking. Trying to make light of the situation, we come up with a theory
about this block of wood we hit. We think that the Wendelltons put that
block there in the road to beef up their economy a bit. Since no one can
even see the town, they figure they can get some business by forcing
hapless travelers into their town by destroying radiators. It makes
sense to me.
     The light in this room is creepy and it's giving me a headache.
We're getting up early so we shut it off...

     9:30 Saturday morning and my little alarm clock is beeping. We
shower, pack up and check out. Again, we haul all our shit back to the
car and begin looking through the phone book to find a garage. With little
surprise we find that the only mechanic in Wendell doesn't work on
Saturday's, so we just have to get it towed to Twin Falls where the guy
at J.R. Miller said he would work on it.
     I'm' thinking, Okay. No problem. We get to Twin Falls, get the car
fixed by this afternoon, we're back on the road by tonight and home by
Sunday evening.
     "Just a minute," Idaho says, "I'm just getting started with you."
     A half an hour and $100 later, we are in Twin Falls, again. The
towing guy said he had to dislodge the block of wood in order to tow the
car and he left it at the gas station (they probably just want to stick
it back out on the highway). That's kind of a drag since I thought that
it would make a great souvenir. The J.R. Miller guy says that he can't
do anything until he can find another radiator. He says the soonest he 
can get one is Monday, so we better get a rental car and a motel room. 
     It takes me almost an hour to totally absorb the reality of the
situation. I realize that I am going to miss my test on Monday, I am going
to be behind in my photography, literature and ethics classes and I'm
going to have to bust my ass to get my paintings turned in on time. But
I finally accept it and begin to rearrange my mental day-planner. 
     After getting a rental car, we go to the Denny's which is located
right across the street from "Me 'n Ed's" pizza parlor. I'm not hungry,
but Shaedow shovels down a Grand Slam breakfast in the two minutes it
takes me to go to the bathroom. We decide to get a room at the Motel 6
down the street, unload our shit and drive around town. 
     After an hour or so of driving, we go back to the room for lack of
anything better to do. Shaedow hooks up his laptop and sinks into his
alternate reality and I sit on the bed and watch our free HBO, since I
have no laptop. I call my mom so she doesn't start thinking that I died.
Right before we went to bed, Shaedow committed the cardinal sin of bad
luck situations. He looks at me and he says, "How much worse can it really 
get."

     Monday morning and J.R. Miller guy says that no one in town has a
radiator for a Honda Civic, so he'll have to call a place in Nevada to
have it sent in. It should be in by Tuesday and he can have us out of
town by five o' clock. That was an instant headache. My heart sinks and
my mental day-planner has a shit fit. Shaedow relates to me how odd it is
that a town like Twin Falls wouldn't have a new radiator for a Honda
somewhere. Right now I want nothing more than a bottle of tequila. 
Passing out for the next 24 hours is sounding better and better. After
much whining and pleading with Shaedow to get me the hell out of this
room for a little while, he agrees to take me to a movie. We go to THE
theater to watch Happy Gilmore. Good flick. It lets out and the token
punk rock kid of Twin Falls bums a smoke from Shaedow. We figured it was 
for the 16 year old girl hooked to his waist and it would probably get
him laid.

     Tuesday afternoon and J.R. Miller guy just got the radiator. The
only problem is that it's broken. He says he's going to have to call some
place in Washington to get another one sent in for tomorrow. Now i'm getting
pissed. We have already spent entirely too much time is this shitty little
town that we swore never to return to. I just want to go home. That's simple
enough, isn't it? I have been stuck in this room for three days and I am
going to freak out if I don't get out! I try to appeal to Shaedow's sympathy,
but then remember that he doesn't have any. So I annoy him until he agrees 
to take me out for coffee. I know I sound like a total nag, but keep in
mind I have nothing to entertain me or keep me company. Nothing good on
T.V. and Shaedow blocks me out completely when he's on the internet. So
we're at the coffee shop and Shaedow bums a smoke to the token skater kid
of Twin Falls. The kid acted like Shaedow had just given him a gold coin
instead of cancer.
     We get back from the Blue Lakes Java shop and he goes right back to
the laptop. So I start to contemplate the ever worsening situation. We
must have died back on the highway, I think, because this is most definitely
hell.

     Wednesday afternoon and J.R. Miller guy just got the radiator. The
only problem is that it's for a stick shift, not an automatic. I'm going
to scream or cry or go on a killing spree. I can't take this shit! Then I
hear that he can still get us out by tonight, it'll just take a little
longer. Okay, okay. Just do it.
     We drive in circles for almost four hours. Killing time in a small
town is nearly impossible, but eventually five o' clock rolls around and
we go to the garage. Just a little longer. A little longer. Little longer.
Longer, longer, longer. Six thirty and J.R. Miller guy is looking everything
over one more time before sending us on our merry way. I am on my toes
waiting to get the okay to get the fuck out when his expression changes.
He starts rubbing the top of the radiator like he's cleaning it. He's
silent for almost two full minutes before he says, "This one's cracked." 
     Then he goes into this explanation of how hard it is to find a used
radiator and that he could have had us out of town on Monday if we had
wanted a new one. I walked out and smoked three cigarettes before I could
calmly deal with this. I finally go back in and Shaedow is discussing our
options with the mechanic. I gather that we can  wait till Friday or
Saturday for another radiator, he could try  to weld it shut ("But you
just never know if it'll work or if it'll make a bigger hole"), or we
could get some cold welding bond, which is like epoxy for automotive parts.
We pay J.R. Miller guy and go to Target for some cold welding bond. The
directions say it has to sit overnight to harden properly. SOMEBODY 
SHOOT ME!

     Thursday morning and the glue looks like it's holding pretty good.
Shaedow put about three tablespoons of the glue on last night and it
solidified like some petrified mass of snot. Shaedow calls his mom to let
her know we were getting on our way. Before he hangs up with her, he says,
"You really didn't have to tell me that." 

      "Tell you what?" I ask, after he hangs up.

      "You know that town Buhl that's about five miles away?"

      "Yeah."

      "My mom said that she has a cousin there and he just happens to be
a mechanic."

      I almost start to cry.

      We take the rental back and hit the road. I don't think I have
ever been so excited to be on the highway in my life. We take it easy for
the first hundred miles. We pull off to the Denny's in Pocatello and see
that the glue is still holding. With nothing short of ecstasy, I hop back
in the car ready to go on for the next ten hours. I don't want to stop
until I am home (pee breaks and gas fill-ups aside, of course). 
     Around four in the afternoon, we reach the state border. I crack a
huge smile as I see the "Welcome To Wyoming" sign. I ask Shaedow, "Are
you ready?'
     He smiles at me as we both  turn around in our seats to give Idaho
a long overdue, heartfelt middle finger. 

                                epilogue
                                --------

about six months later I get a call from Shadow late in the afternoon
and he says, "You are never going to believe what I just saw on T.V."
"What?" I ask. "There's this talk show about Wendell, Idaho and -get
this- Wendell, Idaho is the Hokey Pokey capital of the world."


- Wednesday

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