We can't stop here. This is bat country!

TruTraTri **Week 1 – Empty Highway** She came out late, so the first real mile was mostly empty road. “No movement?” “Nothing. Just heat and that thing sitting there like it’s thinking about it.” “Thinking about what?” “Whether this trip is worth surviving.” No wild maneuvers, no strange damage control, no heavy supplies burned on the asphalt. Just a small passenger under the sherbet sky, still shaking off the sand while the desert stayed quiet in that suspicious way. “You feel that?” “What?” “That silence. It’s wrong.” “Relax. If the bats were coming, we’d know.” The conditions stayed mostly uneventful — steady temperatures, no wild swings, nothing dramatic happens, but you still keep one eye on the horizon. The highway is open, but for now Bat Country keeps its distance. *"No point mentioning these bats. I thought. The poor bastard will see them soon enough.."* — Raoul Duke

TruTraTri Week 2 – High Beams on the Edge of the Desert After the late germination, she was still running behind schedule — a small passenger in the back seat, blinking into the sherbet glare, trying to decide whether the highway was real or just another bad reflection in the windshield. “Do we push her?” “She needs light.” “She already has light.” “Not this kind.” So the beams were turned on a little harder, not as a rescue mission, but as a very questionable desert ritual: artificial sunrise poured over the road, the kind of glow that makes the dashboard look guilty and the bats start flying in cleaner circles. The plant stayed in place, gathering herself at her own strange pace, while Bat Country leaned over the windshield and whispered that catching up is just another form of speeding. Still moving. Just slowly enough to make the driver suspicious. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________ "As your attorney, I advise you to drive at top speed. It'll be a goddamn miracle if we can get there before you turn into a wild animal.." — Dr. Gonzo

TruTraTri **Week 3 – Artificial Sunrise Mileage** The week stayed quiet. The extra light kept burning like a second sun strapped to the hood of the car — not elegant, not natural, but effective enough to make the little passenger sit up a fraction straighter in the back seat. “Is she catching up?” “Barely.” “Barely counts?” “Out here, barely is how most things survive.” So the road stayed mostly calm, but the glow changed the mood. Bat Country looked less like a waiting room and more like a badly lit interrogation chamber, with the plant slowly remembering that this was supposed to be a fast trip. At night the temperature dropped hard — down to around 1°C — the kind of cold that creeps in under the doors and settles on everything like a quiet threat. The days didn’t change, but the nights started biting. Not fast yet. But less late than before. __________________________________________________________________ *"Buy the ticket, take the ride."* — Raoul Duke

TruTraTri **Week 4 – Bigger Seat, Same Strange Sun** She gained a little ground this week. Not enough to call it a clean chase, but enough to look less abandoned next to the faster ones that popped early and came out swinging. The extra light stayed on her like a suspicious desert spotlight, still trying to buy back the time she lost under the sand. “She’s catching up.” “Careful with that kind of talk.” “Why?” “Because the road hears optimism and charges interest.” This week she was transplanted — moved into a bigger seat for the ride, with more room around the roots and a better chance to stretch out before the highway gets ugly. The nights were still cold, but the days finally had more warmth in them. Better road conditions, at least on paper. In Bat Country, paper usually catches fire. Small, late, and still under artificial sunrise — but moving with a little more purpose. _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ *"Why not? If a thing's worth doing, it's worth doing right."* — Raoul Duke

TruTraTri Week 5 – Endurance Contest Under Casino Light This was a good warm week, finally the kind of weather where the road stops looking offended and starts behaving like asphalt again. The extra light stayed on her like casino surveillance — bright, suspicious, impossible to argue with. But photons are not magic. More light does not automatically mean more size, more stretch, or some sudden growth miracle under pressure. “Is the light working?” “It’s working.” “Then why isn’t she exploding?” “Because this isn’t a drag race. It’s a long haul.” She had caught up a little before, but this week the obvious gain was small. Still, the setup stayed in motion, and Bat Country hates wasted cargo. So two lower shoots were removed. Not a grand operation. More like throwing a bit of unnecessary weight out of the trunk before the checkpoint — nothing dramatic, just keeping the ride focused. The road felt easier this week. The light kept humming, the engine stayed steady, and she moved at her own pace — slow, deliberate, and impossible to rush. ___________________________________________________________________________________________________ "There he goes. One of God's own prototypes." — Raoul Duke

TruTraTri **Week 6 – The Engine Finally Catches** The heat backed off a little this week, and that was exactly what the road needed. Bat Country loosened its grip on the windshield, the asphalt stopped behaving like molten hotel carpet, and the plant finally seemed to remember that “Go Fast” was printed somewhere on the paperwork. “Did she move?” “She accelerated.” “Plants don’t accelerate.” “Tell that to the odometer.” The jump was hard to ignore — from a small passenger low in the seat to something with elbows, opinions, and a better claim on the back row. This was proper growth, finally. The kind that makes the driver stop muttering at the horizon and start believing the engine might survive the desert after all. She still has ground to make up, but this week felt like the first clean bite of momentum. ____________________________________________________________________________________________ *"This is what it's all about!"* — Raoul Duke

TruTraTri **Week 7 – Home at Last in the Autopot** Everything kept rolling under the same conditions this week. The big move was the transplant into the final pot — the Autopot, the permanent suite, the place where the passenger stops checking motel prices and starts pretending this was the plan all along. “Is this the final room?” “It has to be.” “That sounds dangerous.” “Most permanent decisions do.” The plant had earned more space after finally catching some momentum, so she was moved into the proper seat for the rest of the ride. Bat Country looked over the paperwork, stamped it with dust, and said nothing useful. The engine stayed steady. The road kept humming. The final pot is now part of the trip. From here on, she is not just riding through the desert anymore. She has luggage. ___________________________________________________________________________________________ *"Ah, home at last!"* — Raoul Duke

TruTraTri **Week 8 – Steering Lessons in Dry Heat** The week came in very warm and dry, the kind of weather that makes the convertible feel less like a car and more like a moving ashtray with legal problems. She stayed in the final pot and kept rolling, but the ride needed a little direction now. Some LST was done — gentle pressure, careful steering, bending the trip into a shape that looked less vertical and more survivable. “Why are you tying her down?” “I’m not tying her down.” “That looks like tying her down.” “It’s guidance. Very different in court.” Lower pruning followed underneath, cleaning out the small useless business from the darker part of the vehicle. A few lower shoots were removed before they could start filing false expense reports from the trunk. Bat Country approved of the move in its usual way: heat shimmer, silence, and the faint smell of dust pretending to be strategy. The plant looked like she could handle it. The road stayed dry. The steering got cleaner. _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ *"We need total coverage."* — Lacerda

TruTraTri **Week 9 – The Suite Starts Sweating** The heatwave checked in like it owned the place. Warm nights, brutal days, and an average that felt less like weather and more like a room-service bill written by reptiles. The suite felt heavy. Even the carpet looked suspicious. “Is this still climate?” “It was climate yesterday.” “And today?” “Today it has a lawyer.” The plant rode out the casino heat while the room glowed with neon and bad intentions. A light defoliation opened things up, and some lower growth was removed — the small operators hiding below and draining supplies. Bat Country had moved indoors now: less highway, more carpet, more neon, more sweat behind the sunglasses. The trip keeps moving. It just smells like hot dust and hotel electricity. ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ *"My blood is too thick for Nevada. I've never been able to properly explain myself in this climate."* — Raoul Duke

TruTraTri *not sure about the preflower* **Week 10 – The Carpet Starts Moving** The heatwave was still in the building, but it had taken off its jacket. After the last week, the suite felt almost civilised in that rotten Vegas way — warm air, tired walls, and a carpet pattern that seemed to crawl whenever the driver looked away. “Something changed.” “The heat?” “She did.” “That’s worse. Weather is honest.” The plant kept moving under the neon haze, and a different signal appeared in the room now: the first hint of preflower. A small shift, but enough to make the whole assignment feel more serious. A light defoliation opened the scene again, like pulling the curtains in a hotel room and immediately regretting the view. The smaller distractions were kept out of the way while the main act started stepping forward under the casino glow. Bat Country had become carpet, mirrors, warm air, and suspicious timing. The trip is changing shape now. _______________________________________________________________________________________________ *"Terrible things were happening all around us..."* — Raoul Duke

TruTraTri **Week 11 – Dry Wind in the Hotel Suite** The heat stayed in the building, but compared to the peak two weeks ago it had lost some of its violence. Then the dry wind arrived. A hot, empty desert wind moving through Bat Country, carrying dust, drought, and that strange feeling of air that has forgotten what water is. The kind of wind that dries everything it touches and makes the whole world look like it has been left under a heat lamp for too long. “Where did that come from?” “The desert.” “It followed us?” “The desert always knows where you are.” The suite had taken on a different mood now. The air felt dry, the lights felt sharper, and the whole place had that strange Nevada feeling — a room full of expensive things sitting in the middle of a landscape that wants to turn everything into dust. Outside, the dry wind kept rolling. Inside, Bat Country carried on with its usual strange rhythm. The plant kept moving through the heat and dryness, while the hotel around it felt more and more like a temporary stop in the middle of nowhere. _________________________________________________________________________________________________________ *"Be quiet, be calm... name, rank, and press affiliation, nothing else..."* — Raoul Duke