Chapter 1, Verse 3: Freefalling Down the Clown Highway

After purchasing some gas and a bad ass satanistic energy drink. I hit the road. Almost immediately after leaving Albuquerque, the landscape again changed. I enjoyed the view and ate my breakfast of champions: My terrifying energy drink and two packages of peanut butter crackers.

I started to see more mesas and large rock formations. The road itself passed through several large valleys and each time I went over a hill it seemed to e even more beautiful than before.
Being that the crackers and demon energy drink wouldn't keep me going forever, I pulled over in Gallup NM, at a local restaurant. As luck would have it, Baked Chicken was making an appearance. Baked Chicken of course being the multi-platinum recording artist famous for that one song about that girl with the thing in her head but then she dies and it's a mess but then the father reconciles with the son and everyone cries. What was the name of that song...
Between Gallup and Flagstaff, there is a rest area near Meteor Crater Park. There are giant boulders and I love stopping here. As a Child I remember climbing on top of these giants and chasing little lizards around while my family rested from the drive. It was fun to stop and see it again. Maybe someday I'll bring my kids here.
Once I reached Flagstaff I was a little confused. Yet another sudden geographic change. I was driving through a forest? Flagstaff being west of the Continental Divide (Altitude = 7,250ft) may have had an effect on this. However, I would soon learn that what goes up, must come down and in this case going down meant braving the worst stretch of highway I have ever driven.
At first glance HWY 17 is a nice ride: four lanes, plenty to look at. But HWY 17 in truth is a terrifying roller coaster designed by Satan, wrapped in a hurricane, nestled in a box of tsunamis. First, allow me to qualify my disgust. I personally view myself as a good driver; I don't drive fast, I use my signals and mirrors, and I don't tailgate.

ON HIGHWAY 17 NONE OF THAT APPLIED.

I was being tailgated by people who were being tailgated by four cars all while going down this mountain at a 6% gradient. I am being passed by crazed people on my right, so I can't even get into the right lane so that I can be legally passed. Finally, I get in the right lane and I think it's over. No. Not even close. I'm tailgated the entire way down this mountain. In case you didn't know Phoenix is close to 2oooft above sea level and as I said, I started at some 7000ft. I could barely pop my ears let alone keep myself safe from all the clowns on the road. The truly sad part is that this stretch although populated with the worst drivers was also one of the most beautiful yet on my trip. It would have been lovely to be able to just drive nice and slow and take in all that beauty, but it was a race for survival down I-17; the clown highway.

At least this clown drove a clown car.