In all the traveling that I do, I have my own views about where people speed and where people don’t. If you are in Chicago, everyone speeds. If you are in New York, oddly enough, no one speeds. In Texas, apparently, I am the only person who speeds. But in my defense, northern Texas can be a really long and boring drive sometimes. This time was no exception.

I was coming from Arizona, having spent a few days visiting with some family out there. I had a good time and Arizona hadn’t been an issue for me. Neither had New Mexico. I did almost hit a roadrunner though. That’s not a joke by any means. A roadrunner came out of the desert and the guy in front of me swerved, I swerved, and then once I slammed on my breaks and skidded to an abrupt halt, another roadrunner walked out of the desert right in front of my car. So thankful nothing happened. At least I didn’t see Wily E. Coyote chasing after them.

So there I was in Texas. Having escaped mortal danger and damage to my car. This is why you should have a dog seat belt if you are driving around. I can only imagine License Plate having been thrown up against the windshield if she wasn’t buckled in. I’m driving down 380, doing about 80 miles per hour. There isn’t another car on the road. Or so I think. I wasn’t anywhere close to a city or a town either. Yet, this is where I get pulled over.

I didn’t even give this car another thought. He was going in the opposite direction driving a red Firebird. It was a nice looking car, but what caught my eye was his license plate. MRDONUT. I figured he was some sort of delivery guy. Maybe a baker. I did not think that it was a county trooper on his way in to work. So, he goes past me and then all of a sudden I hear tires squeal. I think he might have hit something, so I look in my rearview mirror. Oh yeah, blue and red lights from the little portable siren he just put on the top of his car.

I pull over. License Plate gets all happy because she thinks she is going to get to play on the side of the road, but I kept her in the car with me. The trooper approaches and asks me if I know how fast I was going. I said 75-80, but I was out of town and didn’t know what the speed limit was. In all honesty, I hadn’t seen a sign forever. He says since he was coming at me, he couldn’t really tell my speed. After looking up my license plate and seeing I didn’t have any other tickets, he gave me a warning. I said that was fine and I would slow down. I never actually asked him why his plate said MRDONUT, but I found it ironic that a cop would have that. He must have a good sense of humor.

I watched a lot of South Park when I was in college. I think the show is great. Sure it has some disgusting moments and it takes cheap shots, but it is a very good social commentary on life. At least I tell myself that to justify the hours I spent in front of the TV for it. The story about this days plate is directly related to it.

For those who haven’t seen the show, there is a character named Timmy. He is a mentally challenged boy who is in a wheelchair. Basically the only thing you hear him say is Timmy.” That’s really all I need to explain for you to understand the rest of the story and the man Timmy that I met.

I was in Oklahoma trying to find the capital building in Oklahoma City. Who ever heard of a state capital building that includes an oil well? It was a first for me. Probably for most people I would imagine. But I eventually found the place. And License Plate really liked the area. Except that we saw some buffalo on the way into town and it really freaked her out. Very few times do I see her look up at me and panic. Her ears were back and she was panting really heavily, so I’ve been careful about letting her run around off the leash in this town.

So at the capital building, I did the whole tour thing. It was only 20 minutes and License Plate sat in the car, windows down, with water, while I took it. I’m not one of those dog owners who leaves their pet trapped in a hot car. She was fine when I got back, just so any concerned reader knows. I relate all of this because I met someone on the tour who deserved an entry in here. He was a police officer, but was off duty. He was visiting the state capital with his wife and two kids, one daughter and one boy. They were surprisingly well behaved during the tour.

As we were finishing up the tour, the guide asked each of us why were had come to visit. I explained I was just passing through while I worked on my book. Of course some people asked me more about the book and I explained the basic premise behind it. The police officer, named Jim, started to chuckle and we started talking more. Apparently when he was in college, he had two friends named Trey Stone and Mat Parker. These are the same names of the creators of South Park, although the last names are flipped in the case of Jim’s friends. Once the show gained popularity, he decided to get the novelty plate TIMMY. That was what everyone called him throughout college. He assured me it wasn’t because of any sort of mental deficiency, but he was too embarrassed to tell me the full story about it. I just thought it was an amazing coincidence about his friends’ names and him going by Timmy, long before the show came out. It is a small world sometimes.

Hello from Idaho. It has been a very long and desolate drive out here. Why I decided to come through here today, I’m not really sure. My friend was supposed to be out here for a business trip, but he didn’t let me know until a few minutes ago that he missed his connecting flight. Looks like I’ll be spending an extra night here until he shows up in the morning.

That was what I was thinking this morning. It is six hours later and my perspective has changed about why I’ve come to the potato state. Yes, I know they have things other than potatoes, but this is always a fun thing to bring up to the locals and see how they respond. Relatively favorably too. Three people offered me some moonshine/vodka because I “seemed to be speaking their language.” I’m not sure whether or not I should be frightened by those offers or not.

Moonshine had nothing to do with my perspective on this place changing. Instead, it was this eighteen year old girl who loves bugs. I should clarify that a bit more. She loves spiders. And not even all spiders. Just the Crab Spider. Knowing that I was going to end up trekking through the desert with this girl, I decided to leave License Plate at the hotel and made sure that the maid didn’t decide to look in on the room. I don’t need her being attacked with wet and disgusting dog kisses.

Like most of my encounters, this came about because I was sitting around, looking at the people that went by on the street. Who would have guessed that in a town with a population of 1,037 I would see a brand new, orange and black VW Beetle. I sure wasn’t expecting it. I should admit that I’d never really seen a novelty license plate in this state before, but all of that was about to change. Sarah got out of her car and went to the local hardware store. Honestly, it wasn’t much of one. But they sold gloves that were strong enough to withstand bug bites. Why she went off shopping, I was clueless at that moment. But her plates said LTLEBUG. I was intrigued.

Before I go any further, when I was growing up, I was the person in my family who killed bugs. I used to squash them with my barehands and that never bothered me. I wasn’t squeamish and actually enjoyed the process. All of that changed when I went to Arizona when I was seven and ran into a scorpion while sitting on the john. Ever since then, I’ve been able to tolerate bugs, but they don’t sit well with me. Okay, with that out of the way, on with the story. I went into the hardware store and searched for Sarah, the VW’s driver. I eventually found her as she was buying the gloves. I expected the story about her plate to involve buying a Beetle and having it in a little town in Idaho. Not even close.

After I explained my interest in license plates to her over some Cokes, she said she was impressed. It sounded to her like someone else had a futile mission in life and it excited her to know that she wasn’t alone in that. A few questions later and about five minutes outside of town on the main road, I knew what her mission was. It was picking up, by hand, crab spiders that were born on one side of the road and moving them to the other. Apparently these arachnids are crucial to the survival of the ecosystem. Unfortunately their eggs are always placed in the ditch on the side of the street that fills up with oil from the mechanic’s shop on the edge of town. So every day she goes over, picks up individual spiders and eggs and carries them, safely, to the other side of the street. Those are her little bugs. And that is her story.

New Jersey this time. I don’t really know what my problem is in this state, but I always get lost. I can find my way across the country back and forth with almost no problem, but here, it is like my head gets stuck in a paper bag. And License Plate is of only limited help when she sleeps most of the time. So here I was driving town the Turnpike and wondering if I would ever be able to find the exit I’m looking for. To save you any suspense in the story the answer is yes, but only three hours later.

I eventually stopped in this city named Leonia. It was a pretty nice place. Whoever claims that New Jersey is American’s armpit might need to take another look before they settle on that statement. Although for how frequently I get lost here, I’ve said much worse things about the state and its inhabitants. Always in passing though and never to anyone’s face. While I was creeping along the aptly named Leonia Drive, I had to wait for a car to pass in the opposite lane so that I could go around this Toyota Prius that was parked in the middle of the street with its flashers on. Appropriately enough on the license plate was GRNMCNE.

I went up two blocks and turned around. I wanted to talk to this person. (I should note that I was in New Jersey for this visit well before the current fuel crisis was causing more and more Americans to decide that hybrids, fuel cells, and electric cars were the way to go). As I looked for parking along the street, License Plate began to bark incessantly. Unlike my encounter with the TOFUDOG (link) people, this time she just had to go to the bathroom. After finally finding a parking spot (my parallel parking skills stink) I took her on the leash and headed to where the Prius still sat blinking.

While she watered about ten trees, I stood waiting for the owner of the Prius. Eventually she came out of a building on the side of the street I was on. She was helping her friend move and they had just finished carrying boxes inside. License Plate looked up at the new building at this point because the owner apparently had a dog that was watching my pup water the flowers and didn’t like the competition. Once I asked her about her car and license plate, she was really forthcoming. She worked in management for one of the big five oil companies. She hated her job and she hated destroying the environment. So she quit, became a florist, and now drives around in her nice hybrid. She said that she originally bought the license plate because she thought her car would be a delivery vehicle for her flower shop, but soon concluded it would be more appropriate on a car that didn’t kill the Earth. She was really passionate about fighting big oil and I was impressed with her determination. Hopefully she can change her small part of the world soon and move on to bigger challenges. Good luck Cassey.

Alright, this encounter was not how they usually go. I should state right now, the License Plate usually likes everyone. However, I was at a gas station in South Carolina and I’d gone inside to pay. Apparently, this guy had been poking around my vehicle while I wasn’t there. He learned very quickly though that, while I might not be there, going by my car isn’t always the best idea. Especially when License Plate is sitting in the passenger seat and she smells something wrong with you. This guy came up to me as I was walking to the car to ask me to give him a ride south. Unfortunately at this point in my travels, I was heading north. And I’m not a fan of hitchhiking. Something about it just doesn’t feel right to me. Especially when there was a prison in the next town I drove through.

About an hour later or so, I had to stop at this really small town. Population of about 250 or so people. License Plate was going crazy. I thought she had to go to the bathroom, since I hadn’t let her go at the gas station where the creepy guy was. I let her out of the car, not bothering to put her leash. I never do that anymore, unless we’re in a really busy area and I’m afraid that she’ll get hit by traffic. Nothing like that happened here and I’m very happy to inform my loyal readers that License Plate is still riding shotgun after this day.

So I go chasing after here and find her only after she has already interrupted these people having a picnic. I apologize profusely and attempt to grab License Plate by the collar. She squirms away from me and I’m sure that I look like the worst dog owner in the world. Thankfully, these are really nice, small town, caring people. Who happen to love dogs. They also, apparently, are well known in the county for making tofu dog biscuits. License Plate loves them. Absolutely loves them. What I mistook as Lauren and Jason having a picnic, was really them grilling up some tofu biscuits for the upcoming fair. License Plate apparently smelled them from the car and decided she needed some.

Having explained myself and my dog’s crazy actions, I asked them some questions about their business. They’re vegetarians who thought that dogs needed to have a healthy alternative to dry food that contained meat. Tofu was their answer and they make a good living from it. So well in fact, that their car proudly boasts the plate TOFU DOG. They explained to me that their car is frequently followed by unhappy dog walkers being dragged along by their excited pooches, much like an ice cream truck attracting the neighborhood youth during the heart of the summer. License Plate and I left with three bags of treats, a great story, and an invitation to come back anytime I’m in the neighborhood. Thanks Lauren and Jason!