I stayed the night at a Motel 6 in Phoenix and slept in since I had a cold that was brewing inside me. I checked out minutes before my cut-off time and began my drive home. It would be 1,200 miles from Phoenix to Houston and initially I was determined to replicate the Ennis to LA trip. I was stoked for coming home, but I did not have to push it since I had all the time in the world to carry out my trip.
All I will say is that after months of “being on the run,” I was more than ready to get home, sleep in my bed, shower consistently and not worry about re-icing my cooler. Around midnight I was exhausted, had driven through a couple seedy West Texas towns, one of which had the full service gas attendant smoking a cigarette. I told the guy he was a fool, but he didn’t care. Inside the same establishment, the custodian mopping the floors plotted my pathway and then the cash register lady told me I was not welcome there! I drove through a miscellaneously located Texas border patrol that included drug dogs and a search at 1AM.
Within a few miles of the stop I chose a rest stop to sleep at. At 3AM, I was rudely awakened by the shining lights of a large diesel truck that was parked behind me. It sat high enough to blind me from inside the car and was loud enough (since it was idling) to wake up a sleep deprived and medicated patient. I was furious. I asked them if I could pull my vehicle up and ask them to turn off their engine. But I could not fall back asleep. I drove another hour, found another rest area, and slept until dawn.
My last eight hours of driving were forgettable, but coming home was awesome.