Driving to Georgia

After only 6 months of living on Valencia Street in SF, it was time to head east, or rather, South.  Mjoy and I loaded our crap into the car (a 1965 Impala can actually hold more stuff than a small pickup truck, provided you don't mind completely filling the area behind the front seats- we even got our bikes to fit inside) and headed for the desert.  Her brother was a garlic farmer in Moab, so we stopped there for a few days to soak up some scenery and 118 degree heat.  The car didn't mind the temperature, even with a muffler-scraping load aboard, and we had a good $1.49 air conditioner: all 4 windows open, 90 mph, and a plant-sprayer squirt bottle set on "mist."