In case you haven’t noticed, there have been no Facebook posts from me in the past three days including the “laws” from my “Murphy’s Law” desk calendar archives.
Well, there was this short notice trip to Austin, a mere jaunt around the corner of somewhere over 1300 miles.
As usual, it was not a sight-seeing adventure. Sarah and i didn’t stop and smell the roses…er cacti; or to climb to Anazai cliff dwelling homes in Canyon de Chelly; or to stop and see why enthusiasts clog their RV’s, their dune buggies, and their very souls with the fine brown sand west of Yuma; or to visit the Navajo’s in Window Rock; or to order a martini in the lone bar in Lordsburg, New Mexico to admire the bartender’s look of bewilderment; or to study the Juarez, lighting up the entire landscape south of El Paso, eerily resembling the armies of Orcs from Modor; or to visit the National Museum of the Pacific War by the City of Fredericksburg, Texas in honor of their hometown boy, Admiral Chester Nimitz, something i swear i will do next time when i pass through once again.
No, this was a power charge by the road warriors. Sarah has already made this journey four times. i think i’m getting close to twenty. We know the roads I-8 to I-10 to US 290 and have watched the motels, gas stations, convenience stores, and fast-food stops replace farms and wide-open spaces (but just, mind you, right at the rare exits on I-10 through the vastness of West Texas.
We left just after 8:00 a.m. PST, powered through to Van Horn, arriving at 11:00 p.m. CST (15 hours) in Van Horn, home of Chuy’s Mexican restaurant reputed to have the John Madden room who stopped his RV there to partake of their fare on every cross-country trip to cover NFL football because he had a fear of flying. Then we arose before 4:00 a.m., that self-same Central Time Zone so hysterically wide from East Tennessee to roughly sixty miles east of El Paso, and arrived in Austin just before noon in, yep, CST.
Tonight, i will have dinner with my daughters, son-in-law, and the heart of my heart, Sam. But then it’s business, loading up a van and headed back west as soon as possible (Sarah will follow a couple of days later after settling up things and saying goodbye to friends . From experience, i can tell you there is not a lot of joyful moments driving a twelve-foot moving van solo.
But you know what? There is something strange about me (you probably had already figured it out). Even old, i love road trips like this. Someday i will take a leisurely one, see the country like my parents did for years. But not this weekend. Nope.
i’m on an old man road trip.