GUINNESS WORLD RECORD BREAKING ROAD TRIP
Longest Journey By Car In A Single Country
HERE WERE THE RULES
1. No backtracking
2. No stopping for longer than 14 days in any one place.
3. Film two minutes of video footage per every hour on the road
4. Keep a logbook of all mileage, starting points and rest breaks
5. Keep a witness book of people along the way that can vouch for our journey
6. No round trips.
7. Submit GPS data (.KML files) showing all tracking from the journey that includes times, dates, distances and routes
My Guinness World Record Breaking Road Trip
THE BEGINNING: Record Breaking Road Trip – Gilbert AZ
It all started with Tony Robbins.
I downloaded his book Awaken the Giant Within on Audible and listened to it in two hours while Heather was asleep in her boiling hot Boyle Heights apartment in Los Angeles.
“Are you setting ambitious goals?” He asked me through my headphones…
Well, yeah. I’m gonna be a best selling author.
“Does that EXCITE YOU?” Says Tony…
Uhhh… well, kinda… mostly it just sounds like a lotta work.
“Well what WOULD excite you? Some people just don’t dream big enough… is that you?” Tony asks me in a real soothing and melodic voice.
I start tearing. YES TONY IT’S ME!
“Well, it’s time to STOP and DREAM BIG.” TONY SHOUTS INTO MY EAR.
FINE TONY, FINE!
So the next day I was at Trails Cafe, where Heather was completing her second to last day of work… ever… and I thought to myself… hmm… what goal is big? How about I set a world record? That sounds fun…
So I google ‘world records travel’ and start browsing all the world records I might be able to break. BOOM… I found one. Longest Journey Traveled By Car In One Country.
Fantastic, that sounds great.
Apparently some couple in India currently has the title at 19,600 miles. Well guess what motherfuckers? You’re goin down. So I click on the ‘APPLY TO BREAK RECORD’ button and they say they will get back to me in 12 weeks OR I can pay them a dickload of money to hear back in five days. So I pay them a dickload of money. THEN their email says ‘OKAY, SEND US YOUR ROADMAP SO WE CAN APPROVE IT AND DON’T GET STARTED PRIOR TO APPROVAL’… so I spend five hours doin the map and submit it and they say they will get back to me in 12 weeks OR I can pay them another sum of money to hear back in five days. So again, I pay the people a dickload of money.
I wait and wait and wait and wait and wonder if I just spend fifteen hundred bucks for no reason, just to get denied.
YYEEEEEAAAHHHHHHH… but now I gotta follow that map I put together POINT by POINT. Soooo uhhh…
We leave on July 7th for a 21,000 mile journey (which turned into a 36,000 mile journey) up and down the USA… up and down, up and down, up and down.
I gotta film two minutes of video footage per hour of driving and maintain log books, witness books, take photos of national landmarks and make sure we don’t stop for longer than thirteen days. Oh yeah, and submit clean KML files. Wtf is a KML file?
Anyway, I’m in Gilbert Arizona, our starting point, where during the day it’s 120 degrees and at night it’s 100… and I’m gonna go get new tires then get my oil changed and buy a camera and get ready to sleep in the back of my car for 21,000 miles (36,000). That’s right- We’ll be sleeping in the back of my Subaru Outback on an air mattress most nights and Snapchatting like fuckin crazy (turns out we didn’t use Snapchat once… cause I’m not sixteen years old).
Five Days Later We’re Still in Phoenix.
Here’s why… I had brunch with this dude named Jake from this TV production company in Brooklyn a couple years ago, and when I posted on Facebook about this trip, he immediately hit me up and said LET’S MAKE A TV SHOW!
So now we’re gonna be reality TV stars (not so much).
WHY AM I EVEN DOING THIS?
Oh right, cause I was dissatisfied with my life.
WHY IS THIS SO FRUSTRATING ALREADY??
Oh right, it all started with the Guinness Book of World Records, when the lady there emailed me and said:
Glad you wanna be satisfied with your life, but make sure you send the proper KML files or we won’t award you the title should your attempt be successful. She didn’t say that first part.
What the fuck is a KML file?
So I Google the living shit outta ‘KML files’ and figure out it’s some kind of a map-geo-location typa file. Once I figure that out, I go back to the map I sent her and re-format it as KML file… Not realizing that KML files are only applicable after miles have been logged.
So I export the shit, send it to the Guinness woman and wait and wait and wait to make sure I’m doin everything right, and she writes back (cause you can’t call) and says:
The map is good, but this KML file does not show the mileage, so please make sure that you have the mileage or else we won’t be able to review your trip.
Well what in the fuck does she mean? Okay so then I go to Best Buy and find someone in the GPS section of the store and and demand he tell me what we gotta do to make sure the mileage is showing on our KML file.
The dude points to some Garmin GPS system.
“That’ll do it”
So we get back home, my girlfriend (at the time) and I, with some dumb 300-buck GPS system and turn it on. It says update the software. So we click update. The update will take 25 hours, please do not turn off your computer.
So we wait 25 hours for this GPS to update and go swimming in Heather’s parents pool. Heather is (was) my girlfriend.
Then we have sex.
Then our sponsor, Stream, who mailed us two Samsung phones with unlimited data so that we could rig the car up to live-stream the entire trip. Steam is some software company that does live streaming.
The CEO of the company sends me an email: You ready for the walk through on how to use the software?
I’m startin to get overwhelmed…. We haven’t even left yet. The GPS update still has 20 hours or whatever and the KML files are wrong and we gotta get going here and it’s 120 degrees outside and now these phones with new software?
Whatever, let’s do this. But the phone won’t turn on till its charged for another hour.
So I write back:
Phone taking long time to charge can we push back Skype sesh?
So we push the instructional phone session back till we got the phones ready but when the phones are fully charged an hour later we turn em on and the phone gives us two options:
- Call the cops.
- Turn off the phone.
Well those two options don’t seem very versatile. It won’t let us do anything other than those two things? So, we head to the Verizon store but they tell us they need our password to activate it. We don’t know the password so I send another email to our sponsor tellin em we can’t even turn the phones on without a password. Meanwhile the fuckin DSLR camera that we bought–which I still haven’t attempted to use–is on the floor in its box lookin at me like it’s sayin:
You’ll NEVER figure me out, EVER.
And I’m lookin at all the buttons on the camera on the box of it and I’m thinkin the same shit… I’ll never be able to figure out how to take a damn picture on this thing, but we need to take photos of national landmarks and film two minutes of video footage for every hour we’re on the road… ay. Maybe I should just use my iPhone. Okay, I’ll worry about that later.
I head to Barnes and Noble. It’s 120 degrees out and the entire city of Phoenix is a giant outdoor mall. You can’t even find a Subway that’s less than 3,000 square feet.
Then Heather Gets Pulled Over
We haven’t even left yet and Heather got pulled over and lost two points on her license and got a $300 ticket for running a stop sign right outside her parents house.
We leave tomorrow.
Somewhere Around Mile Marker 904…
We left Phoenix and went up to Prescott AZ and then over to Flagstaff AZ and we parked our first night at a Pilot Flying J’s truck stop. We setup the car for the first time to sleep in and I was stressed the fuck cause Heather brought so much shit and I told her a million times you’re bringing too much shit and she was like no it’s all good you’re freakin out and I was like:
I AM TELLING YOU THIS IS TOO MUCH SHIT!
Then that night she easily put everything where it needed to be and we slept comfortably and I woke up and said sorry.
I hate being wrong, especially when I’m wrong with so much conviction.
But before we went to bed she made these curtains for the windows so we could have some privacy but they broke within minutes… So we turned our live-streaming phones on during arts and crafts time and I think she pleased our viewers. Be interesting, our sponsor told us.
So we been trying to be interesting, hence our how to make curtains show.
Anyway, the next morning we woke up and I did my 120 push-ups on the concrete sidewalk at the truck stop right outside the Subaru at about 7am while Heather was still sleeping and then I meditated on my yoga block in fronta everyone then moved all the shit from the front-seat back to the back-seat and deflated the mattress and drove to the Grand Canyon.
I hate The Grand Canyon. Cause I almost died doing it… But I did it: Made it to the bottom. I wrote about on this blog but I don’t wanna distract you right now so find it after you read this if you want. But yeah, so we got outa the car at the Grand Canyon and went to The Bright Angel trailhead and hiked down ten feet to satisfy our viewers and then I was done.
Fuck the Grand Canyon.
On our way to Page AZ we bumped into Lake Powell. The sign said pay fifty bucks but we left an IOU for fifty-five, parked by the lake and slept with the back door wide open and the dust blowin in our face and woke up and took a dip in the water and went through some quicksand then hightailed it to Zion National Park.
We drove through Zion like a buncha hippies that don’t hike then decided to drive to Vegas.
We got to Vegas and we stayed at the MGM Grand, turned down a Cirque du Soleil show-promoter, gambled a hundred twenty bucks, lost it, bet another a hundred bucks, lost that too, slept in a king-sized bed, woke up then went to the “ultra cool pool party” at Wet Republic.
It was at that profound pool party that I diligently stared at big ass, bros with beer and instahoes with orange stilettos. Then we hopped on over to a diner to get some country fried steak.
Now we’re driving to Yuma. 3:10 to Yuma. That’s what Yuma makes me think of. That movie.
As we head down there, I check the Internet for some shit and it turns out a NEW record for Longest Journey by Car was set in India, ANOTHER GROUP OF INDIANS, cause India is doing this non-profit thingy where the people drive all over the country and pick up trash to make a prettier India, so I guess all the Indians are gonna keep submitting their mileage to The Guinness Book of World Records while they pick up trash. That means that we needa drive like 25,000 miles.
Okay, goin to Cali to drive from the border of Mexico to Seattle on the PCH… Be right back.
At Some Native American Casino, They Paid Me 120 Bux To Eat Country Fried Steak
No ones ever paid me 120 bux to eat country fried steak before… Before this morning, that is.
That’s right, I walked into the casino diner and ordered a country fried steak and they gave me an Heather a coupon for five bucks to gamble with.
So, we played roulette. But the roulette table computer thingy was broken, so we sat down at the newest hottest slot machine in the joint. I know it was the newest hottest slot machine in the joint cause there was a big sign that said:
Newest hottest slot machine in the joint.
I stuck my card in, gave it a spin on the max bet, and hit five free spins.
Then the machine started spinning. Then it started dinging. Then it said 45 bucks on the screen. I didn’t do anything cause the machine still had four more free bonus spins and then it spun again. It dung again. And again… Alla sudden, it read 120 bucks… The exact amount that I lost in Vegas the night before.
I cashed out and turned in my ticket to the Native American dude and he gave me a 120 bucks and that’s the story of how I was paid 120 bucks to eat a country fried steak, my favorite.
But Man, This Ain’t Easy
So we pull up to a dark truck stop and park our Subaru between some sandy spot outta sight from the world, that can’t be seen by the naked eye, and far enough from the trucks so that we don’t get the truck diesel fuel fumes in our nostrils, while we lay on our twin sized air mattress blown up in the back of the whip. We put the bitch in park.
And we empty out the back of the Subaru and move all our food and coolers and clothes and Heather’s bowling ball and the camera equipment to the front seat.
Heather screams again.
So I start inflating the mattress cause I know she’s tired and wants to go to bed.
I don’t remember what timing we got on that go-around, but it was pretty fast. We had vagabonding down to a science. I relax and roll us two cigarettes.
Then we towel up the windows so we can have privacy and so the sun doesn’t boil down on us and beat up our foreheads at six in the morning.
It’s a real tight squeeze when we close the back door and scrunch up on the air mattress. We don’t really have space to be all intimidate and shit, not to mention we hygienically fail at life all around, so we fall asleep to the sound of truck engines; loud and furious.
In the morning I wake up and take out my yoga mat and meditation block and I do my 120 push-ups then meditate to my Headspace app for ten minutes and by the time I open my eyes, Heather is awake and screams:
And we rush to dislodge all our shit from the front seat and deflate the mattress and hop in the driver’s seat and park by the doors of the Pilot Flying J truck stop and go in and steal ice and brush our teeth and floss and wipe our armpits and put on our baseball hats and fill up our stolen ice-filled gi-normus cups with cold brew then dilute the concentrate with water and turn our live stream on. We drive till NorCal and pass out.
The We Got Woken Up by the Cops in Eureka, CA
Oh no… It’s the cops. I thought we could sleep in the parking lot of Walmart?
His goddam flashlight was so bright… Why do cops always need to shine that bright fucking–oh wait… It’s a security guard! Sweet!
So he says:
“You guys can’t car-camp here”
“Oh no? Thought we could sleep at the Walmart parking lot.”
“Not this one, but which way you heading? North? South?”
“We don’t really know.”
“Well head over to the K-mart a mile that way.”
“We can sleep at Kmart?”
“Oh yeah, nobody’ll bother you there.”
So we did that, then woke up at 9am to raindrops beating down on the top of the Subaru and popped on into the Kmart conveniently located in front of us, and bought a tarp to cover the shit we had attached to the roof of the car.
Before we got on the road, some beat-ass-dude with a beat-ass-truck asked me to jumpstart his beater. I thought: fuck no, but Heather said
So I got in a real bad mood while we were live streaming as I put my car on death row to jump this shitbox truck that wouldn’t start. I gave him a twenty dollar bill cause he asked for money but then told him to unplug my car from his pile of rust and we hit the road, but then the tarp came loose on the highway and almost killed the dude behind us.
We swerved over and re-tied the tarp but then it came apart again so we cut the plastic rope off and shoved the tarp behind the seat and shot back on the road.
We got to Eugene, Oregon, and it was probably like 10pm, and got a motel room after however amount of nights of sleeping in the car…
We went to a bar and played darts and I beat Heather twice–badly–and she had a beer and I had a club soda and the owner gave us two glasses as a souvenir for our trip (cause we told everyone what we were doin) and then we went back to the motel room and gave each other massages.
In the morning we met these two strippers in workout clothes that were sleeping in separate rooms even though they were traveling together. They passed each other a million times as they packed up their truck, but every time they crossed paths, they did it without talking, like they were both really mad at the other. The road can do that.
Anyway I said hi cause it’s impolite to not say hi and asked em to sign our witness logbook and then they all went down on each other. That’s a joke. Is it?
So we went to the continental breakfast at the America Inn that we were staying at with this bullshit selection of crap cereal in the corner of the room and some old dude tells us he’s a pastor at a jail in Reno.
“I ALSO PASTOR!” Says this Chinese dude next to us. “I CHINESE PASTOR!”
But the old dude was like
Cause he was an old cowboy pastor that could barely hear and the Chinese dude pastor barely spoke English.
Cowboy pastor asked if Heather and I were married and I said Heather doesn’t believe in marriage then Heather got mad at me for sayin that to a pastor who just got done tellin her how stupid she was for not reading the New Testament… then we got in the car and went to Portland.
Portland was full of pretentious asshole fucks.
We had Chinese food and espresso and left and then saw Elk on the side of the road and then we bought Elk Jerky and ate the Elk and now we’re on the border of Canada in Port Angeles, WA by a dope lake.
And Heather Kept Having These Recurring Dreams
Like this morning… She woke up and said:
“Guess what I dreamt about last night?”
“What’d you dream about last night?”
So she says… and I can’t remember exactly what she told me… but with sleep cruddy eyes she says:
“Well I was at Seattle Espresso, and Wayne was there. And then so was that guy you met when we were in– [remembering more of the dream] OH! Oh right! Then there was this kangaroo!!! But… [with sad eyes] the kangaroo kinda looked liked a pony. And I really wanted to know why she looked like that, like a pony, but I didn’t wanna be rude you know so I just talked to her and said ‘Hey kangaroo why do you look like a pony? or something nicer like that… And so we were at Seattle Espresso and I forget what she ordered, the kangaroo… An americano maybe? I think it was some kinda espresso drink… Anyway I thought it was weird cause there was this pony-looking kangaroo at Seattle Espresso ordering coffee, but it wasn’t weird, you know?”
“Oh I know…” I say with extreme confusion masked as enthusiasm. But she kept going…
“Then Sheela said there was this show goin on- oh right Sheela was there, have you met Sheela? She’s– whatever she was there, and she said there was a show goin on downtown, oh wait– We were in Anchorage, yeah, we were all living in Alaska for some reason I guess. But so I told Sheela I’ll meet her there and that I was going to ride Tilly, that was the kangaroo’s name… I think it was Tilly… Anyway, so Tilly the kangaroo had wings somehow and we both flew through the mountains and magical forests to the concert but… [thinking] then we got held up in traffic outside of Phoenix cause we were in Phoenix… I think. Hmm, that’s weird. Are you listening?”
She says to me somewhere around this point… And I say lost in thought:
“YEAH!! OF COURSE!!”
But I knew I didn’t really have to listen cause all her dreams always ends the same. She generally rides some magical mammal to some concert or whatever, but then wakes up juuuussttt as the vice principal of her elementary school is about to introduce the opening band and spills a large ice cream cone full of butterscotch all over the guitar player’s amp, whom is usually a regular at her old workplace…
Anyway, I say:
“WOOWEEEE!! Thats some dream!!”
And she says:
“I know! Do ya wanna hear my other four?”
“You had five dreams?”
“Yeah! So in the next one, I was playing tennis on top of New York, New York on the Vegas strip with my younger cousin while I was getting a new tattoo of a beetle…”
That basically happened every morning.
Then We Met These French Hippies…
They were sleeping outside their car near Vancouver.
When we parked at the rest stop in Burlington, Washington, they pulled up next to us and got outta the car. They both had dreadlocks and they laid down a tarp on the grass and the hippie French couple went to bed while their dog stayed in the car and kept honkin the horn by accident in the shitty car they were driving.
I wasn’t sure why the hell were they in Washington with a car that had Missouri plates… But that was the case.
But how’d I know they were French?
Easy! When Heather went over to them the next morning and offered them some fruit–cause they looked homeless–the girl came over to us afterwards and said:
“Ehhmmmm… Thank few th’frewt. Dew yew smohke ehmmm, weed?”
“Oh no thank you, not today” Heather told the chick. But then I couldn’t stop wondering why the hell they were sleeping at the rest area next to us when they were probably from Canada but had Missouri license plates.
I imagine they most likely robbed a bank in Vancouver, then low-crawled through the border to the greyhound station and bought a ticket to St. Louis.
“Ehmmm two tickettes for ehmmm sunt louiiis?”
Then they probably got to Saint Louis and saw some hot dog vendor by the arch at that park and ordered two hot dogs:
“Ehmmm two hotte doggs si vous plait?”
Then when the hot dog vendor gave em the hotdogs they shoved the dogs in his face and punched him in the eye and ran him over with his own hot dog cart and grabbed his wallet and killed his kids then stole his car and drove like French lunatics to the state of Washington and were contemplating turning themselves in to the Vancouver police department and so they were sleeping outside the border in the hot dog vendor’s car with murder on their conscious and were so grateful for the fruit that we inspired them to NOT turn themselves in, but in fact… to rob another bank, but this time in Seattle.
Anyway that might be how they got there, but who knows?
So We Tried To Find This Ghost Town By Area 51
We turn off on a deserted road in the middle of the desert in Nevada on highway 50, nicknamed the Loneliest Highway in the World, a highway nobody has ever even heard of, a highway that our GPS barely picks up, and we see a blue, paint-chipped sign that points to “Ravenswood”
It’s a ghost town we researched online but thought it might not exist but then saw this century-old sign.
So we turned onto the road excited for the adventure and start live streaming to our fans. This’ll be fun! Let’s bring everyone with us! So, we are live-streaming and lolligagging and our audience is playfully messing with us saying lines from horror movies and all is happy and well.
The dirt road that we’re on becomes small rocks. Small rocks become large rocks. One rock hits the tire and we swerve a bit then fall in a ditch. Grasshoppers attack the car within seconds, about twenty of em, all over our windshield.
We thrust outa the ditch but then monster weeds that could kill a man with their sharp blades jut up from between the rocky Earth and something beneath the car starts smoking.
We kept driving, cause if we put the car in park it might not start again on the terrain.
Plops and pops thrust Heather and I from side to side of the car, from seat to ceiling. The phone we were streaming on was mounted to a mount but it falls off the mount and the screen shatters. I look in the rearview mirror, but all I can see is a monsoon of dust that the tires are kicking up behind us.
Then comes a fork in the road. We check the GPS. It says:
It says nothing about a fork on the unpaved road. Shit. We got no idea which road to take. Does Ravenswood really exist? What if it does and we took the wrong path and end up stranded in the desert and die?
We must persist, I think to myself.
We go right. We got a half-tank of gas and three hours of sunlight. We got this. We can’t turn back now.
We drive 3mph over the rocks and sage and bones, but then the sage brush gets so thick it swallows the unpaved road. Then…
The sound of the tire going flat. Fuck. Okay GPS, just please get us back to the highway QUICK before the tire deflates. Please.
Now I’m really fuckin nervous.
On the GPS it says 10 miles away from Highway 50. Holy fuck. 10 miles away on this road going 3mph? We’ll never make it.
But we had no choice. We had to keep driving. There’s no service and we had to keep going before the air let out of the tire. There’s no way to even call for help. Dammit. This was a bad idea.
We drove further in the right direction, but it turned out to be the wrong direction and the road got smaller and smaller and then the worst happened:
The road ends.
It’s collapsed into the desert crust and now there is no road.
We’re stuck with no service, little water, less than half a tank of gas on the most unpaved road in the country, off the smallest highway in the county, nicknamed the Loneliest Highway in the World.
We. Are. Fucked.
I panic and I reverse the car like a madman over the rocks and shit to get to a place where we can turn the car around and drive like bloody hell but mule shit covers the back window from spinning the wheels so much and I can’t see anything.
Heather gets out to direct me but she gets attacked by a killer moth and dives back in the car.
Finally, we turn the car around.
We just gotta get back to the Highway and go the other way. Dust kicks up as we drive into the sun, in some direction, lookin for where we came from. We find two tire tracks that denote another vehicle had been there at least within the last thousand years, so we grasp onto the route and hold tight.
Then something smells like it’s burning–more than before. Burning bad.
We take the two tracker road for miles until we nearly die of second hand smoke. The car might explode.
BUT THEN WE SEE THE HIGHWAY!
So we grab some cold spaghetti from our cooler and put gas in the car.
Okay… 20,000 miles to go…
Anyway, that’s how this whole adventure started.
BUT LOOK! WE DID IT. 122 DAYS, 36,123 MILES! LOOK!