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Location: Pappy Enoch’s Camp, UR Island
Because the class “Invented Worlds” has been keeping me busy, I sent guest writer Pappy Enoch rambling (and wheezing, and leaking oil) down the virtual road in his F-150 pickup truck.
Second Life was designed with Linden-made highways on the mainland areas. There is not a pothole in sight, and very little traffic. As Pappy found, however, motoring any distance in SL is not easy.
We talked after Pap came limping home to UR Island.
Pappy: Howdy, Ol’ Son!
Iggy: Pap, how you doin’ today? Is that a steering wheel you have?
Pappy: Yep, it are awl I gots left o’ my pickemup truk!
Iggy: What? It broke down?
Pappy: NOPE! It run fine. Secund Life am the wurse place posserbul to drive. I started out by Yadni’s Junkyard, a fine spot fo’ free stuff n’ meetin’ purty gals (awl gals in Secund Life bein’ purty, o’ course). Good paved road run north, an’ I figgered I wood try tu drive it to Ross, whar yu was born wen yu left Orientashun I-land.
Iggy: Yeah, a big highway runs from Ross north/south. I have never seen a car on it.
Pappy: Well, they is a reason. Secund Life am the onliest durn place whar the car don’t brake down on the road; the dad-gum road brakes down on the car.
Iggy: What?
Pappy: Yu sees, the fake wirld am busted up intu square lots by Guv’nur Linden (o’ King Philip, o’ Allmighty Gawd, wun). Crossin’ frum on side o’ a line tu the udder ain’t like goin’ frum Goochland County intu Hen-recka County.
Iggy: Yeah. When you cross a “sim line” everything stops for a second, and it’s hard on anything you are riding in or carrying.
Pappy: It wood be okay if’n a beauty-full gal lost her clothes every time she crossed the line, but I tell yu whut! I kept my clothes (thank Gawd) but lost the durn truk! It were orful bad….tho at furst I had sum fun drivin’ my truk.
Iggy: Oh yeah?
Pappy: Yep. I stopped by a store aftur a bit—road-side bizness bein’ as scarce as honest men in Enoch Holler. I got out to see, an it skeered me sum’fin feerce.
Iggy: Why?
Pappy: It were a fake flower shop. Yu buys cards n’ gifts whut say “welkum back” an’ “git bettur soon” plus sum flowers.
Iggy: Wait, avatars don’t get ill…and welcome back from where?
Pappy: Egg-zackly. That were why I dun R-U-N-O-F-F-T. I figgered they might be seedin’ the field, so tu speek, by arrangin’ fo’ fake ailments o’ kiddy-nappin, may-bee in cahoots wif sum virtual Cozy-Nostrils..
Iggy: Cosanostra….Mafia.
Pappy: Them tu. So I run out like the dickens. Telled a purty gal not tu go in (she did, po’ thang) jumped in the truk, n’ roared off till the road busted.
Iggy: Where?
Pappy: Sum funny-lookin’ place by the water. Peeple spends REEL MUNNY tu buy fancy waterfrunt lots an’ they puts motorsickles, jet-skis, truks, n’ fancified cars in they yards. But I did not see nary a wun out a-drivin’ they vehi-cules.
Wen the truk disapeered on Pap, I started walkin’ an found a place I cood drive.
Iggy: You did? Where?
Pappy: I ain’t a-tellin’ yu yet…I want tu go back in win munny fo’ killing zombies!
Iggy: Zombies?
Pappy: Yep…it are a place whar yu RENTS a car an’ runs down the livin’ dead…an’ corn-peets fo’ prize munny…
To be corn-tinued….
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