The Tangerine Time Bomb: Before the Breakdown

Okay, so we know we never explained how we went from the Tangerine Travelers to the Meandering Martians, and why we’ve been MIA for so long, so here it comes…

fullsizerender-1
Tangerine Traveler: mid paint job

Rolling into Mendota, IL all the way from Cornwall Bridge, CT, we knew we were going to be staying a few days, but it seemed a bit longer than anticipated with the problems we kept running into. Alright, let me just give you the low-down on what went down:

We leave CT, everything is running pretty smoothly, and we end up stopping about midway through PA, to sleep for a bit.

Brad and I get up around 4am and take-off with Sugar and Kayleen still snoozin’ in the back. We drove till we needed gas.

Stepping out of the car, I put my hand on the hood and it felt like a hot iron. We kept our eye on the thermometer as we kept going, but later realized we forgot to put the overdrive on. Dumb asses.

img_5479
Interior of the camper

So…after realizing our idiotic ways, we were back on the road, but not for long until it started pouring. “This will be a good test to see if the camper is waterproof,” Kayleen exclaimed. I was caught a little off-guard, expecting the truck we were traveling 3,000 miles in to be waterproof before we began the trip.

The floodgates opened, and we quickly found out that our roof was, in fact, not so waterproof after all. Rain was coming down hard in the camper now. Kayleen at the wheel, yelled back, “well, I guess we don’t need a shower anymore,” while Brad and I held up towels. We cleared the puddles, but no, it didn’t stop there. We had a couple more hours of showers, until we stopped for waterproofing materials (thanks Flex Seal!), and let the rain pass.

On our way again, we were soon at my family’s home in Mendota, where we worked on the camper for the rest of the week.

img_5407
Kayleen, Sugar, Bronwen, Brad in front of the unpainted camper

As if we didn’t have enough problems, the first day working on it, I went to roll up the passenger side window and it shattered all over me. Quite disheartened, and covered in glass, I was about to say, fuck it, but Brad kept me cool, so I got up on that camper and waterproofed the shit out of it.

While in Mendota, we were able to get it all painted with that fresh tangerine coat, and spruce up the inside as well. Handy-woman, Kayleen, was also able to get the solar panel, inverter, and refrigerator all hooked-up. I’d say, it was coming along quite nicely!

Thinking it was smooth sailing from there, we began to cruise to Colorado, praying that the waterproofing would hold up. The camper was getting a lot of thumbs up, and everything seemed okay…for now. Little did we know, that was just the beginning of our troubles.That camper was a ticking time bomb.

 

 

Check out are unreal photos & Follow us on Instagram @meandering.martians

Advertisements

“In the Pines Where the Sun Never Shines”

My feet crunched over the covered ground beneath me. Peering down, I saw the trail of crushed twigs and leaves scattered throughout. I had forgotten I was inside, lost in this fantastic world of fantasy.

My wide eyes whizzed around the room, taking in all of the creatures that I had read about as a kid. The Princess Bride’s gown glistened in the glass case next to Inigo Montoya’s silver sword. Robin Hood’s tales of robbing the rich echoed throughout the halls. Everything appeared enraptured by Tinkerbell’s fairy dust. What more could a 5 year old at heart ask for? Oh, but there was more…

img_2288
Weapons from the Lord of the Rings trilogy

Brad grabbed my hand and I saw it: the slender cane, drenched in the deepest black, holding up Saruman’s stone that gleamed in the light. He had used the staff to destroy almost all of Middle Earth. Legend. If you’re a Lord of the Rings fan, you’d understand, and if you’re not, don’t bother reading the rest of this blog because it’s about to get way nerdier.

I glanced over at Brad, who looked like he was about to break into the case and start flailing Saruman’s staff around. Seriously though, I didn’t think he was going to be able to control himself. What a nerd, right?

fullsizerender-8
The Terminator

Well, we better get the hell out of this room before one of us goes bonkers. Also, we were on a time limit. I forgot to mention that. This fantasy land was about to close in an hour, and there was so much more to see. We had rushed here, just before closing time. And where is here, you ask? The Experience Music Project (EMP) Museum nestled underneath the Seattle Space Needle. This is not just your regular museum; it is the perfect culmination of pop-culture, featuring exhibits on Nintendo, music, horror, sci-fi, and more. Thank you, Paul Allen, for creating the most magical museum in all the land. And, big thanks to the guy in the tie-dye shirt at Three Sisters Café in Pike Place, Seattle, for encouraging us to venture to this stellar museum in the first place.

img_2291
Gizmo is dead

Anyway, we continued through the museum, stepping through the wormhole a little further with each room. I felt like little Alice, lost in Wonderland, waiting for Absalom to come blow smoke in my eyes, riddling words of wisdom that would dance around my dome.

Walking the halls, horror stories came to life. Meandering Martians, gremlins, human butchers, predators, terminators, and everything terrifying glared down at us from their glass cases. I had to remind myself that they weren’t real, or at least they were in captivity now.

Scurrying away from the scary stuff, we hustled to the hall of music, featuring

img_2301
An  image painted by Nirvana frontman, Kurt Cobain

Washington’s own Jimi Hendrix & Nirvana. In heaven, we read everything about the local rock n’ rollers, listening to their tunes, and excitedly turning to each other in wonder. We couldn’t contain our excitement, burying our minds in their music, until the security guards came to tell us EMP was coming to a close. Bummed, we begrudgingly left the exhibit, but stayed in their gift shop until forced to leave. We didn’t want the fantasy to end, so from there, we trekked further into Washington, toward Olympic National Park, the ominous home of Bigfoot. Would we find the mysterious Squatch? I don’t know, but we were willing to find out. And on we went, to find Bigfoot’s den.