Road Trip Stats

No. of kilometres traveled (it's a Canadian car, ergo metric odometer) : 5,167.
No. of days gone: 11.
No. of unwanted interactions with cops: 0.
No. of times I included "...and please, God, don't let there be any unwanted interference from cops" in prayer for the road: every time.
No. of sections of the I-5 currently undergoing road work: at least 19.
No. of overturned flatbeds in Oregonian mountain passes, complete with full load of corrugated-steel shingle-like things spread across highway:1.
No. of minutes it took to pass through Seattle-Tacoma area today: 118.
No. of minutes it should have taken to pass through Seattle-Tacoma area today: I dunno, 25?
No. of golf-ball-sized stones bounced at my windshield from truck ahead: 1, plus several of its smaller friends.
No. of cracks in windshield: 0, by the grace of God. 2 nice oval scratches though, right at eye-level.
No. of weddings attended: 1.
No. of times I got danced with at wedding: 1.
No. of times I had to beg and cajole a guy into dancing with me at wedding: 1
No. of times during wedding reception I looked at my all-single-girls table and then at the all-single-guys' table in the corner (and ne'er the twain did talk) and thought about that Simpsons episode with the dating show called "Bottom of the Barrel" in which Thelma and the mole-like guy are unsuccessfully hooked up: several.
No. of times I got to explain to people that why yes, I am a complete failure - yes, I'm broke, unemployed, living at home, turning 25 soon, and - no, I'm not dating anyone, but thanks for asking: 20-24.
No. of boxes of accumulated belongings from 5 years of living in California I managed to stuff into that poor little Sentra to bring home to Canada: 7, plus one huge steamer trunk, assorted things from last box that couldn't fit assembled into car, one small duffel bag, fluffy towel a la Hitch-Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy, assorted maps, tupperware filled with baby carrots, and 2-gallon container of drinking water.
No. of boxes removed from carefully-packed trunk of Sentra and sent by UPS one hour into trip up north: 2 - the heavy ones filled with books. The engine's peevish moaning at every acceleration attempt was getting to me. That and all the bottoming-out.
No. of skilled changings in back of car, followed by illicit swims in pools of Best Westerns I was not staying at: 1. Hey, when you've been driving through the desert for 7 hours, have 4 more to go, and you're hot, sticky, and getting sleepy... I think it's for the common good.
No. of times thanked God for Best Westerns, with outdoor pools and unlocked gates, in middle of desert: many.
No. of times saw views so beautiful I could cry for joy, but couldn't stop to take photos because I was driving at 80 MPH with large semi looming in rear-view mirror: 20-40.
No. of nights spent in dingy hotel about half a mile from Tijuana: 2.
No. of hours, first night, that hotel was completely without electricity: 7.
No. of shirtless Mexican men standing in moonlit doorways, skin gleaming in the night, hands casually holding bottles of beer, informing us girls that there was no power in the hotel: Not sure, I was walking too quickly.
No. of dollars it would have cost us to cancel our reservation and switch hotels: more than the cost of the room itself.
No. of names I thought of for my future potential children, during final 11 hours driving today: 6. No. of girls' names among those: 5, which poses a difficulty, as I only want one girl and a whole lot of boys.
No. of McDonalds hamburgers ingested during trip: 4 or 5.
No. of years since I last ate a McDonalds hamburger, prior to this trip: 4 or 5.
No. of adorable grey-and-cream kittens nearly turned into roadkill at my hands: 2. I swore and swerved, and heard no Thunk.
No. of times I contemplated how many times, on average, a resident of Weed, CA is subjected to marijuana-themed jokes re his hometown during his lifespan: 2.
No. of hours it takes to drive from my home to SP: approximately 22; more if you truly respect speed advisories.
No. of times tried in vain to be in the vicinity of The Skillet restaurant in Mt. Shasta City during lunch-dinner hours: 2. If you are ever there, gentle reader, have one of their memorable bacon cheeseburgers and think of me.
No. of hotels in Mt. Shasta City whose front lobby features a statue of Ganesh and the sickening odor of incense: 1.
No. of hotels in/around Mt. Shasta City inquired at before I found one non-creepy enough, between Ganeshes and incense, Buddhas and heckling, deaf Finnish men, Temple of Doom and B-rated horror flick vibes, and pot-bellied hairy old men by the hot tub who watched much too closely, to stay over in: 5. 6th was, incidentally, a Motel 6, clean, safe-feeling, with a very nice front-desk lady. I was sold.
No. of meals eaten in non-fast-food restaurants: 3.
No. of meals was able to finish in said restaurants: 1.
No. of times contemplated the possibility that Bush could go a long way toward battling American obesity if he simply told restaurant owners (he could start with the Dennys chain) to serve reasonably-sized portions: 3.
No. of families, clad entirely in camouflage, eating in restaurant in the mountains: 1. Mom, dad, 4 young kids. Unclear whether they were on a hunting holiday (when is hunting season, anyway?) or just a wee bit nuts.
No. of Complete Asshole U.S. Customs officers who, on my way into the States, interrogated me, held me back an hour, yelled at me, then told me I couldn't cross that day or even try for 6 months or I would get in trouble: 1.
No. of combat-boot-wearing U.S. Customs officers who searched my car and riffled through the undies etc. in my duffel bag: 4.
No. of U.S. Customs supervisors I talked to before Mr. Complete Asshole was compelled to let me go: 3.
No. of times I wondered exactly what Mr. C.A.'s girlfriend said to him the night before to put him in such a foul mood: 7-8.
No. of times I asked officer standing by my car if Mr. C.A. was always that much of an asshole or was it just today's special: 1.
No. of times he answered my question: 0 (He did tell me how to get out of the parking lot though).
No. of subjects resolved, during trip, to study once I get home: 5 - Guitar, French, German, piano, and basic auto mechanics.
No. of degrees closer I've gotten to knowing what I should do with my life: 0.
No. of times I regretted taking this trip: 0.