Constant Readers,
I have been back home (sweet home!) in Davidson, N.C. for over a week now, so it's time to wrap up my Road Trip Summer 2009 travel blog, and send it to archives where it will live on for the future reference of posterity (mine if no one else's!) at blogs.davidson.edu/roadtrip (which can be reached geographically on the Davidson homepage by clicking News, then Blogs). But first, some notes:
- I am, unsurprisingly, a couple of shades of tan darker than I was in June, in spite of SPF 85 ritually slathered on every day on the road. (I was especially diligent about my ears, so that I will not have to wear Band-Aids on them when I am an old man. Not a good look.)
The sun-protective Tilley hat I left town with on June 13 turned out to be too floppy for an open car at 75 mph, so I did the baseball-cap-and-bandanna thing most of the way. Additional tip for those without auto AC: A bandanna (pictured) dipped in icy cooler slush helps keep a body cool on those long summertime hauls. Dodger wore sunscreen, too, on the pink parts of his delicate l'il snout. Here at the moment of our return to Davidson, his cruise control is still set on "Squirrel!" (July 24, photo by Bill Giduz '74)
- I am greatly enjoying preparing all my own food, in my own kitchen sweet kitchen. Nothing out of a can shall cross my lips, and lots of fresh summer fruits and vegetables shall cross them often. (That last week of hard driving put me over my annual limit of drive-through gut-bombers and Beanee Weenies in a tent. Hellooooo, farmer's market!)
- At my office sweet office, I'm adjusting to sitting at a desk again (I am up to a half-hour at a time without jumping up and running in circles like the dog), to central air-conditioning (my hands and feet got cold the first few days), and to long pants (creased khakis instead of wrinkled camp shorts that smell like gasoline and antifreeze).
- My laundry is done, my friends are hugged, and the Comet sits quietly in the rain under a cheap spun-bond cover from the WalMart in Flagstaff, Arizona---just until I can figure out how to zip back up the rear window that came completely aloose from the canvas in a high wind on Route 66 near Tulsa. That was a full day, I recall.
Though the trip itself is done, I know that, like a dearly departed loved one, it will live on in heart and soul, just like its predecessor trip in 1989, just like any such deliberate parenthesis we craft into the syntax of our lives. So there will be time and space to write more about What It All Means (or Not), notably for Davidson Journal readers in the fall issue slated for publication in October. The alumni I met and sometimes stayed with brought a touch of home and Davidson family to a trip that was largely based on my own free agency from one wide-open day to the next---just the right mix!
In the meantime, herewith a random sampling of a few more thoughts and images to round out the previous posts here of my wide loop to the Grand Canyon, points West, and home again. Six weeks, 7,200 miles, friends old and new, and fresh perspectives on time itself---which, this trip reminded me yet again, does not really even exist.
- What's really important, Burma Shave signs along Route 66 still want to know: saving a little travel time, or true love? The carefully-placed signs read: "Cattle crossing/Means go slow/That old bull/Is some cow's beau!"
Moo: For cowboys in Goodland, Kansas in 2009, refueling the truck means refueling its cargo, too.
- "Time marches on" is the flip side of "Time does not exist." Notably, I found something inauthentic, or at the very least overly self-conscious, about the whole Route 66 thing. I enjoyed rolling down some of its historic stretches, knowing what I know from The Grapes of Wrath and Wikipedia. But when I would blow into one of the little tumbleweed towns, boarded up save for the ticky-tack tourist stuff, I felt sad more than anything. That said, the museum in Chandler, Oklahoma was air-conditioned, and it was kind of neat-o having the vintage Comet in Seligman, Arizona, one of the hot spots for old cars and old car festivals on Route 66. I betcha cellphone shots of me and Dodger in the Comet are on lots of summer travelers' Flickr sites about now.
The James Dean facsimile was out of focus in this picture I took of him/it in Seligman. Was it this 1954 James Dean or was it my 2009 Lumix that didn't want to connect across the years? You decide, because... it's... "driving... me... insane!!!"
- One thing I did find on Route 66 that was totally authentic was a place called Oscar's Auto Sales and Parts, a huge junkyard and expert mechanic's shop of a sprawling, grimy place in Grants, New Mexico. Oscar found a replacement hubcap for my 1967 Mercury Comet Caliente ragtop that was original to that model, charged me $10, and then he and his grandson, Oscar also, polyurethaned the Mercury emblem back onto the front of my hood for free. They even gave me a keepsake calendar, which I would hang at my campsites, and now have hung in my kitchen with pride and fond remembrance.
Big Oscar and Little Oscar appreciate the lines of 60s muscle cars--and the calendar models who show them off...
- I would like to give a special shout-out to all those late-model luxury SUV drivers, in particular those with California plates and/or tinted windows, who gunned it past my happy ass on hot, steep grades: Your car may have a bigger radiator than my ol' Carolina heap, but at least my exhaust smells like real gasoline and my V-8 engine is not hobbled by a catalytic converter that makes it smell like a seventh-period chemistry lab after too much lunchroom egg salad. So, nyah! Stick that in your bankrupt state emissions testing tent and smoke it. Actually, my Comet could probably destroy one of those things at half-throttle---as long as it wasn't in the desert.
You don't want to go over about 60 in the Comet on a desert hill in this heat. On the other side of this rise we came to the Laguna Mountains: huge thousands of feet of elevation in the lateral space of 10 miles, with radiator water stops every mile. Serious business at 110-plus degrees, particularly with no AC. Well, I figured, the dog is young and strong, and the car and the man at the wheel of it are strong. We never had to stop, but I can assure you I positively crawled up that steep grade at 42 mph in the truck lane, to balance the radiator's potential for boiling over against keeping up the wind speed on Dodger in the back seat. ("Him wa' vewy, vewy panty-panty.")
- For the record, ye olde Comet did great on the trip, averaging 18.4 mpg highway (enough to keep it safe from Cash for Clunkers). It warned me with subtle changes in sound and smell of impending repairs, rather than just flat breaking down on the side of the road, which it did in the early years of our relationship before I learned how to keep it happy. This time, with no actual breakdowns and minimal delays: I got a transmission valve replaced in Santa Fe, new axle bearings in San Diego, a gasoline tubing repair in Palm Springs, and new U-joints and a transmission seal on the drive shaft in Alamosa, Colorado. The thermostat housing started dripping green at start-up temperatures in Missouri, but I was close enough to home by then that I was in the mood to just let it drip a little. Besides, it would seal right up when it got to operating temperature. "I'll deal with that tomorrow, at Tara... yes, Tara!..."
- A thing I noticed throughout the trip was how much better my coffee seemed to taste on the road. Whether at a campsite in the morning or after an afternoon nap break at a pulloff in the woods, I would boil up a little water with my pocket stove and fix a cuppa with my Melita one-cup filter, in the same blue enamel, cowboy-style cup I used cross-country in 1989.
This old cup: Maybe it's the rusty spots in the chipped enamel that add a little je ne sais quoi.
Ahh, the open road. I could go on and on. But six weeks was about right, and it's good to be home on this side of the Mississippi, with a happy new collection of screensavers. Here are my two favorites:
El Morro National Monument, El Malpais, New Mexico:
"Oh boy, wide open spaces, my favorite!"
Palo Duro Canyon, Amarillo, Texas:
"Where to, next?"
Thanks for reading, everybody. Your virtual company on the open road made it an especially bon voyage!
-30-
Thanks, "Rache"! It was a blast, and I'm glad to be home, too---planning the next one? Hope all is well in Arizona, "now let's get out there and write some poetry, woo, woo, woo!"
What a treat your blog was, John. And what a great picture that is of you and Dodger! I'm glad you're home safe, even if it's selfishly because now I can send you (timely!) e-mails again!
I guess this means Dodger should write a children's bedtime story book? Or one for grownups...
How I entertained myself this summer: reading Dodger's blog spots aloud to others. I am getting fairly good at dog-speak.... However, writing dog-speak--now, there is real talent! Welcome back.
Thanks, David, and thanks for inviting DavidsonNews.net riders along with us!
Welcome back, John. Enjoyed riding along, virtually.
Glad I went, glad I wrote, really glad I'm back. Thanks for your great support!
Glad you went, glad you wrote, really glad you're back. Thanks for your great stories!