In the end we had to leave our poor dear sweet Van Glorious in the mechanic's yard and head back to San Francisco. We called Amtrak, were told a train was leaving in 40 minutes, only $30, great. However, turns out the "train" was actually a freakin bus. Massive ugh.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I would have thought the phrase "Amtrak Bus" an oxymoron, but alas. Luckily we snagged the prime front seat so we could stretch our legs, watch the road and the curmudgeon busdriver,

 

 

 

 

and the stop-and-go traffic. There was some event in Reno called "Hot Summer Nights" which somehow managed to choke Interstate 80 for miles.

 

 

 

We adjusted and learned to roll with things,

 

 

at least when this kid wasn't screaming in our ears. Thank god for the old show-the-kid-the-digital-camera-to-shut-him-up trick.

 

 

 

Jack was still pretty pissy though,

 

 

and showing her the camera only made things worse.

 

 

I had to give her some of that good Vitamin Wry to calm her down.

 

 

Then it turned out we were so late we were going to miss our connecting train unless the bus drove express to Sacramento. Here's Jack doing the hysterical job of counting the votes deciding whether or not we should skip a few stops. I wish I'd gotten a better picture of this moment. Suffice is to say that when people are threatened with missing their stop, they get a tad irate.