Three years in and still going strong. And most importantly, still having fun. To me that's the most important thing. When I started this site, three years ago, I decided to keep it going until it became a chore. I won't kid you, there is a lot involved with a weekly update, but it's still worth it. I enjoy talking about movies and this website is outstanding outlet.

Over the past year, the B-Movie community on the web has gotten bigger and better - evidenced with my Links Section reaching critical mass. The B-Movie Message Board is thriving and it warms my heart that there are people who like all the same bizarre stuff that I do.

Most of the goals I had set for myself, and the website, have been met but we're still looking for improvements. I finally made it to B-Fest and met Chris and Scott, Dr. Freex and the rest of the Stomp Tokyo gang - and a whole horde of other B-Movie fanatics. Recognition from my peers is something I take very seriously - and my hard work paid off as 3B Theater was inducted into Badmovies.org's Legion of Muck for October-December of 2002. And for that I give Staff Sgt. Andrew a salute of thanks.

On the personal side, just more of the same. One year older - and one more year paid on the mortgage. My car went through about $1,100 worth of repairs. (Stupid air-compressor.) At least there are no fires or floods to report this year. My place of work is catching hell from up the corporate ladder to make due with much less but still make more money. You add that up and tell me that equation makes sense. 

The big highlight of the year, though, was a ten day trek that would take me, my friend Nekkid Bill and his lovely wife, Amy, by automobile, from America's heartland - across the Rockies, around the canyons of Utah - over the deserts of Nevada and into California - all the way to the Pacific where San Francisco was as far as we could go without getting wet.

The trip would start in early September and the best part was we'd be in a car in the middle of the desert during the September 11th Anniversary. Which meant two things. 1.) If something bad happened we were safe in the middle of nowhere. 2.) We were free of the maudlin media blitzkrieg coverage of the truly tragic event.

Armed with my Mom's Cadillac (that she graciously allowed us to use), a cooler full of bottled water, a two week supply of Rice Krispy treats, six disposable cameras and a worn copy of Worst Case Scenario - just in case we're attacked by sharks in the desert so we'd know what to do - the trip got underway. 3,500 miles later - we made it back alive, tanned and full of stories - and best of all, we were all still speaking to each other.

I'm kicking around the idea of serializing our adventures, and posting them here to read - complete with photographic evidence. It's still in the kicking around stage but here's a sample from the trip. Our little detour, off the beaten path, to see Nevada's not so famous Lunar Crater.

- - - -

Day Three:

Lunar Crater of Bust!

After a hardy breakfast, we checked out of the hotel, reloaded the Caddy and hit the road. Amy took the wheel, Bill carved a spot in the backseat because I called shotgun. We wound our way out of Ely [Nevada], found the Highway 6 turn off and headed south - back into the desert. The biggest difference between Utah and Nevada is that in Utah - the scenery consists of sand and rocks - while Nevada is rocks and sand. And sagebrush. And dead cattle carcasses.

The main objective of the day was to go cruising down Highway 373 - a/k/a The Extraterrestrial Highway - to Rachel, Nevada, the last sign of civilization before you reach Las Vegas. What's in between? Why none other then the mythical home to all things UFO in America: Dreamland a/k/a Watertown - a/k/a the Dark Side of the Moon - a/k/a Paradise Ranch but much better known to you and I as Area 51.

Just before you reach the junction, between Hwy 6 and 375, there's a strange little anomaly on the map. All it shows is a little access road that runs south of the highway, for an indeterminate length, that ends at something called the Lunar Crater. What's a Lunar Crater? We didn't have a clue - but we were determined to find out.

If Highway 50 is known as the loneliest highway in America, I'd hate to hear what they call Highway 6. (In a strange twist, Highway 6 runs right by my hometown back in Nebraska.) I was making fun of the scenery, earlier, but it is quite striking - especially to those of us who are used to nothing but acres and acres of cornfields. So get off the Interstates, folks, and see this country the way it's supposed to be seen.

Another, neat little feature of driving off the beaten path, are cattle crossing warning signs. I'll swear that all of Nevada is free and open range. There are fences running perpendicular to the road but none running parallel. The fences start on the horizon then end at the road, the road is crossed with a metal grate, that the cattle aren't smart enough to cross, and then continues on and disappears into the desert.

As you ponder what these range cattle are eating - and more importantly, where are they getting any water? - there is plenty of evidence on the side of the road of car versus bovine collisions. I stopped counting at seventeen carcasses because it got too depressing.

Most of these collisions must have happened at night because during the day, you could easily see twenty miles ahead as the road stretched out straight before you. We crested a rare hill and far away, on the horizon, you could see several dots moving over the asphalt. 

This would be the only time we found cattle actually on the road. Amy slowed down as the slow-moving critters stared at us dumbly - and refused to move. So she brought the car to a stop. A quick check of the road saw no one behind us, or ahead of us, so I decided to get out and make some new friends. I threw Bill my camera and approached the herd. I guess I was too intimidating for them because they immediately broke formation and thundered off the road.

Bill got out, too, and we took advantage of the seclusion and got this nice candid of me getting in harmony with the asphalt and the open road. 

Zen & The Open Road. Highway 6 - the loneliest road in America.

That little side escapade completed, our journey continued and our alphabetical word association games were getting tougher and tougher. While I was pondering the name of a bodily function that began with the letter "Q" - Amy hit the brakes, claiming she saw a sign for the Lunar Crater.

We turned around to investigate - and sure enough, there was a sign. It read: Lunar Crater. American Back Road and Byways Tour. The sign had no arrows pointing the way to go but a "back road" led off the highway and wound off south to parts unknown.

Now where I come from, a dotted line on a map means a gravel road. In Nevada, it means a dirt road. According to the map key, it was about a fifteen-mile journey off road, as the crow flies, to the Crater. The road was dirt but it was packed and looked solid enough. I hemmed and hawed for a bit, it was my Mom's Cadillac we're talking about after all, and decided what the hell. If it got bad - we'd just turn around and come back. 

With those infamous last words, we left the paved road and wound off to parts unknown (meaning unless the bird was drunk - who knows how far it was.) As we rounded the first hill, the dirt road quickly degenerated in quality. As the car bounced from rut to rut, vision of the oil filter, and all sorts of vital equipment, being ripped off by the thick brush in the median filtered into my minds eye.

Amy kept encouraging me not to worry because she had AAA, and a gold membership to boot, which meant free towing. If they could find us to tow us I pointed out. Around another bend and you could see the road winding off over more hills - with nothing that resembled a Lunar Crater in sight. Undaunted, we pressed on. 

As if by some bad omen, we passed a derelict wagon, busted to pieces and weather worn. And as a warning to all others who take this trip I say - watch out for the sand traps. The road turned into sandbox and the Caddy bogged down, trying to get traction. Amy started applying the brakes. I told her to do the opposite and floor it because if we stopped - we'd never get going again. 

The road continued like that. Bumpy and hard followed by soft and mushy sand. I have no idea how far we'd been driving on this path, and a little voice inside my head (that really sounded like my mom) said to abandon the search and turn back, but then we spotted the dry lake bed. 

It stretched for as far as the eye could see, so we skirted around it's edge. Was this the Lunar Crater? Maybe. Who knew. There was a little access rut (yes rut - not road) that led off the trail, towards the lake, so we decided to take a closer look. We bounced off the trail and the car bottomed out real good. 

We came to a rest on the lake's edge and bailed out. I said a quick prayer and looked underneath the car - but all seemed to be in order. Bill and Amy were already walking out on to the flat lake bed. I joined them and we migrated towards a strange collection of rocks, congregated together with no apparent source or evidence as to where they came from. How they got there? Who knew but it wasn't the weirdest thing about the lake bed. 

The weirdest thing was how unearthly quiet it was there. It was oppressively quiet. The lake bed was boxed in by bluffs on all sides. There was no wind, no bugs, no sound of traffic, nothing. Just three displaced people running amok, throwing rocks and writing things in the dirt. 

After taking several pictures, and stacking the mystery rocks into weird patterns and formations to confuse the next visitors who came through, the debate began as to whether this was the actual Lunar Crater or not. The general consensus was that it probably was not and we decided to press on - down the beaten and bumpy path - awhile longer.

I threw some of the mystery rocks into the trunk of the Caddy for souvenirs (and boy do I have a strange tale to tell about those rocks after I got them home.) Then we took it for a spin around the lake bed before bouncing back to the main dirt artery.

What to do with your Mom's Caddy #342: Dry Lake Bed Derby

Three giant potholes - an even bigger sinkhole and several large sand traps later, the voice inside my head was getting louder and louder to turn around. Then came the fork in the road. 

The trail split. We'd been skirting a pasture fence for awhile and came upon a gate. We had a choice. Keep following the fence or turn through the gate (or turn around.) My family used to share ownership of some land in northern Nebraska that we ran some cattle on. The road we were bouncing on reminded me a lot of the several trips I'd taken out there.

I jokingly said that we probably turned off the Highway too soon. And were on an extremely long driveway that led to someone's ranch house (and the rancher would not be kind to strangers), and if we'd just went a little further down the highway, there'd have been a nice paved road that led to the Lunar Crater - with signs that at least encourage you that you're going the right way. In other words. Let's turn around. Now.

But this is a democracy - and I was out voted. We would continue along the trail and ignore the road through the gate. The joking continued, as I feared the worst, and I asked how many Rice Krispy treats we had left. Bill assured me that we had enough rations, for three people, for at least a week. I then postulated to my compatriots if that also meant there was enough to keep one person alive for three weeks - and began to wonder, aloud, where the Caddy's tire iron was hidden.

Again, for the benefit for those who might take this trip in the future, I will offer these tips when taking the scenic route to Nevada's Lunar Crater. 1.) When you pass the decrepit wagon - you got a long ways to go. 2.) When you get to the dry lake bed - you're about half way there. 3.) Ignore the signs - because there ARE no signs. 4.) When the person whose mother owns the car your using is about to go alpha-male and demand that you turn around and head back - you're almost there. It's just over the next hill. I hope. How many hills for "I'll bet it just over this next hill" are there going to be?

Six "one more hills later"  and still no Lunar Crater. I was going to allow just one more hill (and I mean it this time - dammit) before we'd turn around. And sure enough, we crested the last hill and there it was - the Lunar Crater. (At least we think it was the Lunar Crater because, again, there were no signs.) So what's a Lunar Crater? A Lunar Crater is an enormous hole in the ground caused by a meteor's impact.

I hate to say it but after cruising on the lake bed - coupled with the intense trip in, the Lunar Crater itself was rather anti-climatic. Don't get me wrong, it's impressive and very, very deep but as they say, getting their is half the fun.

"Is it full yet?" - "Nope, keep it coming."

- - - -

So we found it. And the trip back out was just as entertaining - thanks to the adventures of 'Nekkid Bill', running loose in the desert. But that's a story saved for another day. However I will add that once we made it back to the highway, sure enough, not three miles down the road was a huge sign. It pointed to a nice paved road leading off through the desert hills. It read: Lunar Crater - Nine miles. After a good and hearty laugh - that became our battle cry for the rest of the trip.

You'd think that being trapped in a car for ten days would drive you bonkers but the trip was wonderful - and exactly what I needed. There are a lot of beautiful and strange things to see in this country and I encourage everyone to get out and see them. It did me wonders and I returned home ready to face work with a recharged enthusiasm. 

I hope this new enthusiasm has translated over to the website as well. I think it has. Sinister Soul Cinema Month was a blast and I think I've gotten back into a B-Movie reviewing grove. I finally realized that it doesn't matter that you have nothing profound to say, as long as you say it well and more importantly, say it with a fun-filled attitude. We're not here to learn right? We're here to have some fun. Damn straight. 

So what's in store for year four? More reviews of your favorite crap. There's a lot of untapped material that I haven't gotten to yet. Ted V. Mikels, Andy Milligan and Al Adamson have yet to darken these doors. I've got a couple William Girdler films lined up. And I finally got my hands on Blood Freak. I'm also planning on feeding my Godzilla fix soon with a Big G marathon one of these days.

Speaking of Marathons, we'll have more of those, too, including a look at oddball spy flicks and JD's & Vitalis Slicks - a companion piece to JD's & Rocketbras but this time we'll pick on the boys instead of the girls.

We won't be concentrating on just movies either. There's a new section opening dedicated to Cult TV - where will drudge up some childhood memories and traumas of shows from the past. We'll also be experimenting, and crossing mediums, following the development from books to movies. For example: start with Richard Matheson's novel, I Am Legend, then review Last Man on Earth and The Omega Man and then compare and contrast all the dramatic liberties taken.

I'm also planning on a return trip to B-Fest this year. Hope to see some of you there.

So stay tuned, it should be fun - and see you all in 365 for 3B Theater: Year Four.