Are you insane?… You can’t drive that truck in here…!

We have so many writers and photographers covering this next shuttle launch we need two big RVs to carry us all.

I get recruited to drive because this thing is about 500 feet long and nobody else wants to mess with it. It’s real big, real slow and you sit about roof-high. So we jam everybody inside, turn up the radio, stop for hot dogs, beer and potato chips. We’re gonna get there early so we need energy to keep going.

And these people are pretty excited. They’ve seen launches. They know what it’s like.

Remember when you put a firecracker under a beer can?

The can would pop up high into the air. But then it would fall. Not so this thing. After three minutes it will be a tiny glint in the sky, traveling 6,200 feet per second.

It’s the most ambitious technological undertaking in history. But this technology’s more delicate, less forgiving, than life.

Why you need all those writers. They’re specialists. Science experts.

Engine problems, tiles falling off, insulation peeling, temperature fluctuations, power surges, phantom readouts. It seems like most of the time, the Mission Control guys just have to stop, start over, push reset.

But this day, as they make final preparations, the sun is shining. Not a problem in the world.

I pull up to the toll booth.

The guy just stares at me, eyes bulging, jaw hanging. He gets out of the booth. Walks to the front of the vehicle. Now there are two or three other toll guys there. They’ve left their booths. They’re walking to the sides of the RV, looking. Talking to each other like a clique of NFL refs.

Something wrong?

This lane is not for trucks. He’s shouting now.

You can’t pull trucks in here.

Sorry. How much do I owe you?

You don’t understand. Still shouting.

You have about 1/8 of an inch on either side here. This lane is for cars. It is frickin unbelievable you got this thing in here without bashing the booth.

But they’re laughing now. A great story for the gang at the bar tonight. They take our money. We leave. No big deal.

Tell that to Peter Larson. I think it was Larson, the guy driving the other RV. The one right behind me.

He proceeds to wedge that puppy in between a couple of toll booths so tight he can’t move. He tries backing up, going forward again, as if he was stuck in the mud. He does this a whole bunch of times. The agonizing shriek of metal against brick. He’s shredding the sides of the truck, from bumper to bumper, tearing off the mirrors.

He finally gets it free. And it looks just like you’d expect it to.

Later, we need to take these fancy high-priced trucks back to the dealer.

Is there a place with big bushes we can park next to?

We drive to the back of the lot. Wave to the folks in the office.

Thanks again.

Let the boss handle this one.