So, as you can all tell by the pictures two posts back, the Ambulance Driver came to pay me a visit while I am in Houston visiting my family. I was very excited about it, especially the night before, and if you ask the folks in the gunblogger chat, they'll tell you I was freaking out and being a total fangirl. And it's true, I was.
AD got to my house around 10 AM, and amazingly enough, he got there before I did. I had to hop in the car and run to Walmart to buy a few things (including tennis shoes, because all I had were flipflops, and those don't go over too well riding a motorcycle). He called me while I was at the store, saying he was about six miles away, and sure enough, he called when I was just around the corner to say he had arrived.
I was immensely excited, that goes without saying, so when I pulled up in the driveway next to him on the bike, I jumped out and immediately pounced on him for a hug. I couldn't believe that I was getting to meet one of my favorite bloggers, if not THE favorite, and he drove all the way just to see ME. Very flattering, let me tell ya.
We went inside, because I just HAD to show off my little one, and AD agreed that he was a precious little fart, throwing a fit about getting a bath. And of course, there were a few minutes of sitting around talking, and just about the time it started to become awkwardly quiet, I suggested a ride. After all, that's part of the reason he came to town: I had never ridden a motorcycle before and was eager for the experience.
I didn't really have a destination in mind, but when he mentioned food, I immediately knew where we had to go: the taqueria in Pasadena where five mornings a week, my father and I used to have breakfast with the volunteer firemen. So on the bike we went, with the advice to lean with him when he leans, and off we were!
It felt so amazing. It's one thing to do 70 miles an hour in a sports car on the highway, but quite another entirely to have nothing around you but open air and wind in your face with a big rumbling machine between your legs.
It was HAWT.
We got off the bike at the taqueria, AD squinting up at the sky as a couple of the fighter jets stationed at Ellington Field flew by overhead, before ushering ourselves into the dim restaurant and welcome AC. Small talk was made, fajita tacos were ordered with Corona for AD, and we proceeded to chow down. He asked if there were any gun ranges in town that rented out handguns for patrons to try, and in all honesty, I didn't know, but I know somebody that did: My gun nut uncle. So I called their house, only to discover he had already left, but my older brother told me where one was. Off we went again, up and down Pasadena's highway 225 until we found it... only to discover that the place was closed on Mondays. Grrr.
Also, the guest of honor himself wanted to go to either Cabela's or Bass Pro Shop, and since we didn't have the former... we got back to my mom's house so we could get directions to the closest store, getting sprinkled on part of the way back. And neither AD nor myself wanted to ride in the rain, so we borrowed my mom's car and left the bike parked in the driveway.
Dude, I have never been in a BPS store in my life, mainly because I've never gone hunting, fishing, or camping, but I gotta tell ya... I was impressed. We wandered around aimlessly for a bit, checking out the warez, and stopping at one point where they had a target shooting game with electric targets and laser guns. AD played one round and went to hand me the gun, only to be met with protests. I balked and squawked: I knew my aim sucked, but he finally got me to shoot. I hit maybe 25% of the targets I was aiming for; I was having a hard time holding the gun still with the sights lined up. But once we were done with that, off again we wandered. Clothes, fishing goodies, camping stuff... then upstairs to the guns!
AD was not impressed with the gun and ammo selection there. To the point he actually stomped his feet and stuck out his lip in a pout. I just about peed myself I laughed so hard at the image. I was enthralled with some of the pistols they had, giggling to myself over a pink-handled revolver, when suddenly... hand! On my ass! Squeak, jump, glare at AD. Didn't believe that phony innocent look for a second, either, pal.
We ended up making it back to my mom's place, stopping to top off the gas tank in her car like AD promised he would in exchange for letting us use it, and after a little bit of hanging out and talking like the goofy idiots we are, AD said he had to start heading back home. I pouted, didn't really want him to go. I was having too much fun. But off he went, and I went back inside to eat and surf the internet a bit.
Couple hours later, I get an IM from AD: he had waded through a short construction zone for an hour and pulled over to gas his bike up... and have his card denied. What the shit?
Apparently his bank sees nothing suspicious about a couple of $500 charges two days in a row at a gun show, but a few charges on the I-10 corridor for ten bucks are less raise eyebrows, and they locked his card down. So, stranded in Texas with no money for gas and no way to get home.
Snarky to the rescue!
I rounded up some cash and hopped in the car and headed out towards him, and like an idiot, I passed the gas station he was at... by some ten miles. Turn around and head back. Not my fault, I couldn't see the station's sign from the overpass! But I finally get there, give him gas money and he fills up, demanding a hug and a kiss before he left.
What a busy day. Exciting. Fun. I had a blast.