Day 1: Guess it really is a hot hell in Shreveport

Louisiana

Today was a day where a lot of minor things kept happening. All of them separately and I would have handled them like a pro. Spit-balled them out, used a think tank to come up with ideas to break out of them. But instead, they happened back to back. Leaving me wondering if I should just turn around and head back for Texas.

The day I woke up and found out I drove to the DMV for no reason- minor inconvenience, right. The day proceeded with bad, over priced gas station food (I never realized that was a thing) and me stopping at Walmart for a lot of items I had forgetton. It was not till I hit Shreveport, LA at a post station when I was truly mailed to the wall (ha pun).

My starter just stopped. So, like any millennial I tried to get it fixed but I did not want to pay for towing. But damn it, I am a strong independent woman who don’t need no mechanic. So I bought a starter and attempted to take apart my car. Background: I know nothing about cars and have only put oil in my car previously. I literally was that meme of a girl hitting a wrench to her car to make it open up but at least trying to follow YouTube videos.

About 4 cars passed by me, each with a single male yelling, “Hey honey, you need some help?” or variations of that, this include; darling, sweetie, sweet looking. I needed help but my feminism pride and suspicion of these fellows left me alone.

Then a man in a huge decked out truck just got out and started to help me. Didn’t even ask, and the best part he had a wedding ring. He ended up doing all the work for me, while I just sat there.

Every time I tried to help, I was met with a, “ oh honey you are just going to get in the way.”

He fixed my car and refused the money I tried to pay him for it. Pulling out of the driveway, I literally sat in my car and thought,” Thank God for Southern men.”

I made it to my campsite before dark and was able to set up my tent, relax, and get started on my next assignment before I passed out at the earliest I have ever passed out: 9:30.

All in all, I figure that somehow that was a sign. Whether it was a sign saying, shit is like this so keep moving or yeah, you’re anxiety is not going to be able to handle this trip. Regardless, I made the decision to keep on moving.

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