The orginal plan was to depart Buffalo, NY and drive westward to Yellowstone (Jellystone?) and then Crater Lake, Oregon. Driving on southward after communing with the clams of the Pacific, Clambo would visit his birthplace in Oakland, California (Clambo is still peeved about being yanked from California to New York at the tender age of 3 months). On the homeward leg, Clambo would visit Yosemite, the Grand Canyon, and several National Parks in Utah. All of this would take three weeks of driving.
In order to save much needed flow ("cash" to the uninitiated), Clambo planned to camp as much as possible. The first day out, however, Clambo couldn't find the campground west of Chicago that he was looking for. Desperate to crash somewhere, he struck upon the idea of sleeping in the car. But where? Where could he sleep without being hassled? Soon the idea hit him: He would park behind a church. Without the usual blinding lights of your run-of-the-mill parking lot, and without a police presence, Clambo was able to sleep through the night. The nearest house was a cornfield away, leaving Clambo free to perform what would become a normal morning ritual, the "Gallon O' Water Shower". Using a large sponge and a gallon milk jug filled with water, Clambo stripped to his shorts, washed his hair (cut very short for this trip), and sponged off.
After spending a night at a campground in Kearney, Nebraska, Clambo drove through northern Nebraska towards South Dakota. During that long morning, Clambo only saw about one car (usually a pickup truck) every 10-15 minutes. Each time he passed a vehicle, the driver would wave. Clambo's New York paranoia kicked in. "Why are they waving?", he asked himself. "Is there something wrong with my car?" Eventually, the Lord of the Clams came to the conclusion that they were just being friendly.
At the Badlands National Park, Clambo encountered two women from Stony Brook University on Long Island. They had just driven south from North Dakota (the state with the smallest number of annual visitors). Clambo inquired as to why in the world someone would go to North Dakota. The two college students shrugged their shoulders and responded that it was the only state they hadn't been to yet. When asked what they did there, they said that they had been to Bismark and that it had only taken them 10 minutes to photograph it. Clambo told him his Dakota joke: "What's the difference between North and South Dakota? South Dakota has the Badlands and the Black Hills, North Dakota doesn't." Road life had killed Clambo's wit already. With that, they parted company.
Actually, several things were happening to the Great Lord Clambo's mind. While physically he had never felt more relaxed (his back did not bother him despite many nights of sleeping in a Toyota), his mental state began to unravel. He found himself babbling incessantly to people at scenic overlooks and rest stops throughout the Midwest. His lack of human contact was only exacerbated by the fact that he could not reach his current female companion by phone.
After traveling to Wyoming in the rain, Clambo awoke parked in front of a
fog-shrouded "Devils
Tower" with visions of Spielberg dancing in his head. He found himself
in Cody, Wyoming. Here, Clambo made the mistake of sleeping in a golf course
parking lot. This has to be one of the worst places to sleep in one's car.
Golfers get up very, very early. Needless to say, Clambo beat feet out of
there in a hurry and got cleaned up in the bathroom of the William Cody Museum
(a.k.a. "Buffalo Bill"). For those of you who do not know where
Cody is, it's located west of Emblem,Wyoming (population 10, but they have
their own Post Office), and just east of Yellowstone National Park.
Clambo drove all 500 miles of the figure-8 loop inside the park the first day, and then camped illegally on a dirt road. He awoke early without having the misfortune of being rousted by the park police. Trust me, oh True Believer, being awakened by anyone in a uniform is not a pleasant experience.
The ruler of the clams drove through a thick wall of white fog towards Artists Point to photograph Yellowstone Falls at dawn. Along the way he encountered two buffalo nuzzling against small pine trees alongside the road. Clambo stopped the current Clammobile (4 yr. old Toyota recently purchased from his mom) in the road, and rolled down the window. He took an incredibly pastoral picture of the buffalo using 5-foot pines as scratching posts before one of them became aware of his presence. With several grunts, it started to plod across the road staring directly at the Leader of the Clams. Once again, his clam armies were useless. (Clambo really should spend more time near "the shore".)
Clambo remembered a pamphlet they had passed
to him upon entering the park. It stated that while
buffalo may look peaceable, they can charge without notice at speeds up to
20 miles per hour and that they weigh up to 2000 lbs. Seeing his situation
as precarious, Clambo snapped a picture and popped the clutch on his new standard
transmission vehicle. While no longer having the ability to shift "like
a god," he was able to flee the scene effectively.
