Jim and Kindra’s Quest for Fun
featuring the music of:
Fleetwood Mac*Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers
The Beach Boys*Billy Joel*Rob Zombie*The Cars*Roxette
Red Rider*Dio*Crimson Glory*My Vitriol*Fightstar
Blondie*Neil Diamond*Suicidal Tendencies*Blue Man Group
Led Zeppelin*Pearl Jam*Radiohead*Megadeath*REM
Bruce Springsteen*Johnny Cash*Dexy’s Midnight Runners
Disturbed*Bob Dylan*Creed*David Bowie*Queen*Duran Duran
Electric Light Orchestra*Guns N’ Roses*Madness*Muse
*Red Hot Chili Peppers*The Rolling Stones*Talking Heads
DESTINATION: St. Ignace, Michigan, The Mystery Spot
2 August, 2017—Wednesday
Jim and I awoke at 7:30 a.m. to be on the road by 9:00. I was so excited, I dressed smart, and made up my face for pictures. Because I’m vain. Our trusty Bonneville (a.k.a Bonnie, a.k.a Silver Bullet) was clean, packed, and gassed up (courtesy of two winning Michigan lottery Lucky 7s scratchies)—totally ready for the 227 mile journey. What had begun as a joke quickly became our Quest for Fun. The Mystery Spot or bust. It was a bust, folks. Traveling north on I-75 at 75 mph fatigued dear Bonnie (the tach was reading 3500+ rpm), and we had no good choice but to exit in Rose City; Bonnie just couldn’t shift properly into overdrive—60 mph was her optimal speed. Not even blaring 80’s metal could keep her stimulated. So, Jim slipped our Silver Bullet some Lucas, and let her cool off while he and I ate lunch at the Rose City Cafe. Jim had a club sammich, and I had a fucking delicious grilled chicken with mmm bacon, lettuce, tomato, onion, and mmm honey mustard on a toasted Kaiser roll. Every bite, I was like, “What the actual fuck? Did this chicken sammich come down from Heaven?” On our way home, taking the backroads, Jim and I laughed about driving two goddamned hours just to eat. Fun fact: it had taken us only two hours to reach Rose City, however we spent four fucking hours getting home. But this setback only fortified our resolve to make it to St. Ignace.
P.S. We came to learn that it wasn’t Bonnie’s transmission that was malfunctioning, just the tachometer. Gee, whiz!
P.P.S. Jim phoned up his daddy upon our arrival home (because we didn’t know at the time that Bonnie’s transmission was fine), and asked to borrow his big-ass Dodge Ram, which would result in an 80 fucking dollar gas bill. Yay, trucks!
QUEST FOR FUN: take 2
3 August, 2017—Thursday
The alarm went off at 7:30 a.m. I hit snooze. Three times. I did not dress smart, I put my hair in a Pebbles bun, and I did not make up my face (too much). Because I don’t give a fuck about what people think of me. I wore black cotton shorts that are too short, a John Lennon t-shirt, and old-ass pair of Guinness flip-flops equipped with a bottle opener. Jim wore the same set of clothes he’d worn the previous day. Classy. We were on the road by 9:15. When we blew past the Rose City exit in record time, I was like, “Girl, bye!”
Northern Michigan is fucking gorgeous, folks. Even when you’re looking at it from the express-way. I saw two fawns walking along the edge of the woods running along I-75. We were going too fast to snap a picture of the cute babies. So just imagine them when you look at this picture I’d snapped through the windshield of Daddy’s big-ass truck.
We stopped for lunch–again. But! This time we’d made it all the way to Mackinaw City. We did not eat at Wienerlicious. I’m just a juvenile who thinks Wienerlicious is a fucking hilarious name for a restaurant. Plus, the giant wiener on the roof is pretty cool.
Jim and I had fish and chips at Cunningham’s. I didn’t take a picture because I was hungry, and enjoying my food. Live in the moment, you know? After we killed our dead, fried fish, we made our way toward the Mighty Mac. I love the Mackinac Bridge. I could drive over that motherfucker, back and forth, all day long and never lose the excitement.
St. Ignace is lovely. I’d like to hit one of the car shows they host. My dad has taken his classic muscle cars up there, and he loves it.
Jim drove through St. Ignace with such purpose, I’d believed he knew where the hell he was going. But when we stopped for more gas, (after accidentally getting back on I-75, and pulling an illegal U-turn via the “Authorized Vehicles Only” access road), he asked me, “So, how do we get to the Mystery Spot?” Thank fuck for smart phones. Six minutes later, we were face to face with The Mystery Spot. It was magnificent. Like an outskirts liquor store. We did the Mystery Spot guided tour. A young girl working her summer vacation escorted us into a slanted house built into a hill, and thrilled us with optical illusions. The experience was just as delightfully lame as I remembered from my childhood. Jim and I had a super rad time at the Mystery Spot. He even freaked out the guide by showing her his super power–hyper extension knees. Truly, Jim is a mystery worthy of St. Ignace. I bought an awesome Mystery Spot long sleeved t-shirt, and Jim did the zip lines. I’m not allowed to do zip lines, or anything else fun because of my replaced hip joint. Boo! Hiss!
Upon leaving the Mystery Spot, Jim discovered the poor state of his daddy’s Ram’s brakes. Thank you, Daddy, for letting us borrow your reliable vehicle. Hahahaha! Love you, Dad!
On our way home, we stopped at Sea Shell City. Can you say Sea Shell City three times fast? Sea Shell City. She Shell Shitty. Damn it! Sea Shell Shitty, She Shell, Shitty, She Shell Shitty! I love She Shell Shitty. Here’s why.
Thank Glob for my hero, Jim. He saved me from these ocean predators. And bought this shell and shark tooth necklace for me.
Jim and Kindra’s Quest for Fun was a success. I can’t wait to see where next summer takes us.