Eesa World Tour: Part 1

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VT to SLC

JUNE 17TH: LEAVE VT

The tour begins as we push off at the crack of 2 PM on a fine Vermont afternoon. Only two weeks earlier the idea came about to buy an RV and head West to meet with team riders and visit the summer camps at Hood and Whistler. Rolling in the crew is myself, Fran Frost our Global Sales Enabler, Travis Limoge team rider and all-around high-energy hopped up on Red Bull kind-of-guy, Rob Ticho greendevil.org founder and trip photo/filmer and last, but not least, Allison Pacelli our marketing intern who, for whatever reason, decided it would be fun to drive cross-country with a bunch of smelly shredders.

First stop on the tour is Jimmz Pizza in Waterbury, two large pies and we are off, heading for Salt Lake City and our first round-table discussion with JP Tomich, Chris Coulter and Kurt Wastell if we can track him down. The game plan is to punch it straight through to Salt Lake City, four hour shifts per-driver. Mapquest was claimin’ 36 hours from Waterbury to SLC, but knowing that Mapquest is notoriously generous with times, we think we can do it 36 hours if there are no major setbacks, which means we will arrive in SLC around 2 AM on the 19th.

JUNE 18TH

So far, so good. The RV claims to sleep six and there’s a double bed over the driver’s cab, which quickly was dubbed the “Cocoon of Horror.” When you are awake for 20 straight hours and are so crisp you’re asleep before your head hits the pillow. You know you’ve had a long day. Well, that was the case for me, I wake at 6 AM day of departure, do the 10-2AM shift and crawl into the loft at 2 AM, super amped for some Z’s. The problem is that everyone else has been up for the same amount of time and I can tell you I am on fumes and seeing double while driving. How the hell am I supposed to trust my life to someone who is crisper than me?

The “Cocoon of Horror” is about 3 feet high and sits directly above the driver’s cab; so it’s more like a cave. It’s great for darkness, also great for getting pancaked in an accident should one of my trusted comrades nod off at the wheel. As we know, I’m crisp, but now I’m gripped thinking about getting bounced all over the RV should we have to ditch. Luckily my body tells my brain to shut the ‘F’ up and I awake four hours later slightly less crisp but alive.

The rest of the day moves along without incident. As darkness falls people start flashing their lights and honking their horn as they roll by. We wave back enthusiastically and throw a shaka here and there. We can’t believe how amped people are on eesa, pretty dope trip so far and we’re still in the Midwest.

We pull in for gas somewhere in the middle of god-knows-where and do the standard lap around the RV, check fluids, wash windows, check lights. Ahhh yes, the rear running lights are out; not that rad for driving at night. We are at one of those super gas/trucker stops in Nebraska and walk in to literally see the all-time biggest wall of truck lights we have ever seen in our lives. We brainstorm a bit and come up with a low-budget Vermont style plan to keep the RV moving legally with the least dollars out of pocket.

We purchase two small rear running lights, two 12 Volt batteries and some light wiring. Bust out the drill, mount the lights to the rear toolbox, run the wiring into the toolbox and connect them to the batteries. We’re in business. Luckily the turn signals and brake lights work, so we are legal and on the road again. I step-up to the first four hours of the graveyard shift and keep heading west. I put my four hours in and head to the “Cocoon of Horror” and fully expect to awake in Utah.

At this point people are beginning to smell ripe. Limoge discovers that any smell emanated by person or machine wafted up into the Cocoon and marinated the poor hapless soul trying to overcome the fear of dying in a crash in order to sleep. The other odor problem is a result of vandalism that happened in the RV days after the purchase. It’s turns out that two second graders were delinquent enough to break in the rig and go ape sh*t.

Lucky for our noses there is a shower in the RV. Frost decides he will be the first to give it a go. The shower itself is three by four feet and only serves up cold water. Frost entered and emerged ten minutes looking pretty amped and quite refreshed, so everyone thought it would be a good idea to defunk while the defunking was good. As with any good road trip, pulling pranks on people is mandatory. Up next was Ticho, who enters the bathroom with thoughts of a nice refreshing shower are quickly soured after the first drops of freezing cold hit his body. At some point it was determined that swerving the RV side-to-side at 80 MPH while Ticho was showering would be pretty damn funny. Five minutes later Ticho emerges clean and refreshed with no mention of the death shower we are convinced he had been dealt. It turns out Ticho is a crafty old dog and dropped to his knees shortly after the beat-down had begun and taking care of business as if he took those type of showers on a daily basis. As with any good prank, once you’ve been outwitted, it’s time to put it to rest.

Stay tuned to our adventures, as we meet with our team and the shenanigans begin over the next couple days.

Shred on,

Cleary