eyeroll.net

Day... um

I'm leaving Albuquerque tomorrow, planning to drive 700+ miles to Tulsa on day one of the return trip. There's not much of a reason to stop there, except that it's a big city, and I know where to get a good coney. Plus, of course, I'll be safe from porn.

So think happy thoughts for this Driver Human. If I can manage to blog from the road, I will. If not, I'll see you all when I come out from my cave.

Think "stay together, little Saturn" thoughts for my car. I need it to get me back home, then it can go off to die somewhere.

And in the mean time, be good. Post random things in the comments. Whatever.

Day 33, Home in Washington

Capitol Hill is pretty much the same as it ever was. Best thing is getting to see my girls. In mt absence, TiVo has blown its hard drive when a road construction crew accidentally cut a power line. I'll fix it, because it's one of the early models that works without subscribing. This would be ideal if it had a keyboard and you could type in identification for programs that you have saved.

So I'm going to go collect my cats and go to bed early.

Sleep is a good, good thing.

Day 33, Headed back to DC

3:50 a.m., Bed. The wake-up call comes. I wake from a dream about sleeping. This causes an odd sense of d㩪 vu that is just slightly dizzying. Or maybe that's the sleep deprivation. I consume a Starbucks Doubleshot in one gulp.

Fidget. Wonder if I have everything. Open the door and see a parking spot right out front; consider moving the car, but that's a terrible idea. Brush teeth. Now I'm awake!

4:20, Chair. Room door is open for fresh morning -- and I use that term liberally, I feel that it is still night -- air inside, despite the manager's claim that I should keep my door closed because "(I) never know who's coming around the next corner." I am startled by a person. I yelp.

"Are you Amanda?"

I gather my wits about me and affirm that I am, indeed, Amanda.

"Yer shuttle's here."

Schlep bags down to the front. Driver can't break a twenty, but he is pleasant enough. I'm his first trip.

4:35, Northwest Airlines ticketing counter I stare at the automatic check-in machine. It is actually less complicated than buying produce from a USCAN line, but I am not in the habit of being in the USCAN line before 5 a.m. I stare for about 90 seconds before the agent asks me if I'm ever going to start my check in. I mumble at her.

She comes over and completes the transaction for me, which begs the question, why did she insist that I use the machine?

4:55, Deserted Corridor Who's responsible for this decorating? Peach and teal, and a lot of curved faux adobe surfaces. It looks like the world's largest public restroom. In a nice way, if there is such a thing. I mean, it doesn't smell, and the door latches aren't skewed, but there is a definite stop on the highway feel about the Sunport.

I am struck by the fact that no matter whether I'm coming or going, it seems like my flight is always located at the end of the long corridor. I begin to wonder, also, why I thought putting two books in my carry on was a good idea. I'm not really interested in reading either of them, and they're awfully heavy.

5:10,  Gate A14: Hey. Free wireless! Rock on, Sunport. I take back everything I said about you looking like a highway welcome center. OK, actually I don't. I'm going to let that stand because it's true.

There's a cranky child with a stoner-looking guy. I think she's on my flight. She calls the guy Mark. I think he's a stoner because he's arguing with a kid who seems to be about five years old, and not very successfully.

The crew is late. There's no way we're leaving here at 6:05

(Someone Else Can't Live Without My) Radio

I walked out of my hotel room and out to the parking lot to go to a lunchtime meeting a little more than an hour ago. Crossing the courtyard, I could see that something was not right with the Saturn.

The gas cap cover was open, the trunk was open, the driver's door wasn't shut properly, and the front window on the driver's door was shattered.

Here, right before my eyes, was a textbook example of breaking and entering an automobile. The only thing missing is my XM radio and the vehicle kit. I usually take the receiver in with me, but I guess I didn't last night. I had a bunch of stuff to carry, and I felt pretty safe here in ABQ because I'd done stupid things like leaving the car unlocked with expensive computer equipment in it to no ill effect. Luckily, all my expensive equipment is safely inside, but in order to get a hundred-dollar radio, they broke the damned car.

They tried prying the door open, which apparently didn't work. Somehow they managed to remove the exterior door handle from the car. (Still not sure how that happened.) At some point, they drilled the lock out of the front driver's door. And then they opened both the gas cap cover and the trunk, and used the tire iron to break the window.

Both driver's side doors are damaged. I'm honestly not sure it's worth fixing. I could UPS my stuff home, I guess, and then fly instead of driving, but I'm still without a car. I guess I'll rent one, but I'm ready to call this trip to New Mexico a loss and get on with my life.

At least they took something with a serial number. I reported it stolen and disconnected my service. So the radio is useless to anybody who is not me.

I hope whoever ends up with it is prepared to enjoy the XM preview channel...

Saturn Rising

7:40 a.m. Industrial Park, NM  I take the Saturn in to get new back tires and alignment. The manager asks if I need anything else, and I think that a tune up is not a bad idea, because I'll be doing a lot of driving, including the long trip home in six weeks time. I mark myself as "not from around here" by giving my local number starting with the area code. She says she'll call me when it's ready

10:45, Junk Drawer, NM  While I'm in the middle of a meeting with a couple of consultants who are going to charge my group a lot to make phone calls and generally ease my entry into the Albuquerque business community, my second cell phone rings. (I have joined the ranks of those people who carry two phones. How tiresome.) I do not recognize the ring as belonging to my phone, but I manage to pick it up before VM does.

Roseann tells me that there's a crack in my radiator. That explains the light on the dash that tells me I have a problem associated with coolant. Parts and labor, $366 to replace it.  Since I just had a problem caused by not nipping the old back tires in the bud back when I got the front tires replaced, I decide to have the thing fixed.

Because, as she says, it isn't a problem now, but when it becomes a problem, it will be a big fat hairy deal.  I'm not actually looking forward to having to call AAA from a spot between Neophyte, TX and Bubblegum, AR on my way back to Washington.

So tonight, the Saturn has a new radiator, and new back tires.

I guess I'll have to drive the thing for another year to justify the expense.

Damn.

A lot stranger than fiction

We had a meeting this morning with some people at a local business organization here in Albuquerque. The offices of this group offer space for businesses to do training or have meetings outside their own offices.

We had been talking for about an hour when a burst of chanting-cheering came from the general direction of the conference room.

I looked at the woman behind the desk. My puzzlement must have been clear because she responded before I could ask what was going on.

"Oh, that's just Wal-Mart. They use our facilities for employee training sometimes."

I nodded, and the hubbub continued.

"I guess that's why they're so successful." she said, slightly oblivious.

"No," I countered. "They're so successful because they suck up so much economic development money."

The conversation turned to economic development, as a matter of fact, but the cheering went on for another minute or so.

Can't make this stuff up.

Today was day six of my road trip, and it was marked twice. First by the Wal-Martians, and second by an incident in the Middle of Nowhere.

3:12 Hemostat, NM. The Saturn has been shuddering, and not reaching its normal (though suboptimal) speed of 72 miles per hour. I blame this on the uphill climb. I notice that the front end is shaking, and a feeling of dread begins to creep around my body until it settles in my gut.  I am more than a little annoyed at my colleague for continuing to make phone calls while I fret about the death throes that I believe my car to be having.

There's a loud noise, and then the shaking gets worse. I immediately pull onto the shoulder where I utter the truest words I've ever said. "I have no idea what to do." No idea what just happened, but I think I may have thrown a rod. (That would be bad.)

So we call AAA, and they say they'll send a tow truck to get me and the Saturn back to ABQ. My colleague arranges for a cab to come from Santa Fe to take him the rest of the way so he can make it to the meeting we were headed to.

Traffic on I-25 is heavy and fast, so it doesn't occur to me to take a look at the outside of the car.

John's cab arrives, and I call Fedward, who is my information source for most things that might be wrong with the Saturn. I describe the noises, and he thinks it's not a rod, but maybe something else that's just as bad.

Tow truck arrives. The verdict? Flat tire. Pretty dramatic. The side wall of the left rear tire pretty much splintered.

The guys change the tire and put the donut on. They tell me to keep it to 55, and to get the tire changed as soon as I can.

I drive back to ABQ. What do you know? No more shaking.

All I know about cars would fit on the head of a pin and still leave room for all those stupid dancing angels.

I reach my destination

2:30, Andiron, NM  My first impression of New Mexico is that it's a good, sensible state. I instantly love it because of a sign that reads "You are now entering the Mountain Time Zone."

This is helpful, because I couldn't remember if New Mexico was on mountain time.

The NM welcome center is a strange place. The doors that lead into the restrooms look like they were salvaged from a Mexican restaurant. Inside the ladies, I see something that probably seemed like a good idea at the time: metal toilets, no seat. The thing sits rather low, and I feel like I just sat down with the seat left up by some guy. It seems far too postmodern for the setting.

Looking at the stacks of brochures for tourist activities, I think I'd like to ride in a hot air balloon.
2:50, Beaker, NM  I stop at one of those tourist traps because I need gas. It's supposed to be World Famous. And if there's a fame for heaps of fireworks and freakish animal trinkets, maybe that's true. I can't imagine who buys this stuff. My favorite thing is a resin figurine of a rooster draped in your choice of the American or Confederate flag. This beats out the fountain at the door, which is about seven feet tall and features a stallion rearing back. The whole thing is rendered in the material of choice for such junk -- resin. It has dripping water, an assortment of fake plants, and "smoke" wafting from several little holes near the hooves.

The stuff in this place is so odd that they have the little faux license plates with your name on them for Gladys and Bernice. It's so far out in the land of awful that I can't even see what it passed on its way out there.

I want a bottle of cold water, but the woman who's working that counter is on the phone, so I decide to make do with the not-cold water in the car.

Between 3 and 4, Wagon Wheel, NM  Nothing really, but that's the name of an actual town. I'm psyched. Consider that I've been on the road for three days when you evaluate that psych.

5:00, Endless, NM The terrain has changed. New Mexico seems pretty now, not just like West Texas. I'm about 50 miles from Albuquerque. I'm really tired.

As I approach the city, I'm trying to find the hotel, and although I can see it from the highway, it seems to be in one of those "can't get there from here" locations. At least I know the name of the street I'm looking for. I drive around for about 20 minutes before I find the street, and then it's another couple of miles.

So here's my question: Why does Albuquerque have so many furniture stores? There must be six large furniture stores on the way to the hotel. I can't figure it out.

7:30, ABQ  Dinner at Little Anita's is good. They know how to make proper refried beans. The iced tea is good, and they bring sopapillas with your meal. The New Mexican style of Mexican food is decent, at least when you get it in NM.

Day Three, Texas

Ah, Texas. Where I grew up. Well, that's not exactly true, but if Texas is a whole 'nother country, Dallas is a whole 'nother planet.

First thrill is seeing Frostie sodas in bottles at the Shamrock station in Shamrock, Tx. (I really didn't make up that town name.) But the gas is much more expensive here in the Panhandle than it is in Missouri and Oklahoma. I vaguely recall "Freeze a Yankee," a novelty song from one of the oil crunches in the 70s that encourages Texans to "Drive 75 and freeze 'em alive." Well, the speed limit is back up to 75, and we're all paying for it.

Shortly after 11, Blip. I know this is the middle of nowhere because I can see sky all around me. The sight of all that blue is awe inspiring. I remember a drive through Kansas many years ago when I found myself on a country road completely surrounded by green fields. They seem to go on forever. And I remember seeing the Capitol dome shining in the summer sun.

I miss the America I grew up loving.

Lunchtime, Timecard, TX  Here's one of those Other Dairy Queens! I'm hungry, and it's time, so I stop. The place is cheerful, and populated with chatty locals. The kid behind the counter lets me stand there for about a minute before he asks if he can help me.

"Oh, I'm just looking at the menu," I say. "It's been a long time."

"Cool. I didn't think you were stoned."

My Hungr-Buster with cheese is superb. The bun is grilled, the cheese is all melty, and the vegetables are just right. Such a good burger. The kid tells me that he has been on the road, too. He went to Lubbock to get a tattoo. I guess Timecard doesn't have much in the way of body art.  He says the new tat hurts. I mention my thought of getting a tattoo of a blender,, and he thinks that's a good idea. (I'm probably never going to get the blender tattoo, but I still like to consider doing it.)

I get a dipped cone to go. I don't know how long it's been since I had a dipped cone, but they're still good.

Later, while listening to an announcement about things happening on XM Radio later that day, I determine that the only artists to get their own hours are Frank Sinatra and Phish.

Still can't figure that out.

Day Two, Oklahoma

(Honestly, I'm trying to get all the notes in from my drive so I can get back to the present. )

The wind doesn't actually seem to be sweeping down the plains as I cross the border, but the billboards do get shorter. I guess Oklahoma doesn't want to distract drivers on 44 from the lovely view of, uh, nothing.

Every 25-50 miles, you pass a town, and the state highway authority cleverly provides you with a sigh that invites you to "See Eggbeater!" The Highway People want you to know that Eggbeater features 6 restaurants and 3 hotels, plus a campground. So, I'm thinking "Eat-and-or Sleep Eggbeater!" might be a better fit.

I'm just saying.

Many miles in, I pass the Welcome Center, which is also the first rest area. It's not remarkable, except that I now understand why Missouri put a rest area one mile inside its border. At first I thought it was just for people who wanted one last chance to relieve themselves in Missouri, but I guess there was a more practical reason, namely that Oklahoma didn't put one a mile or so inside its border. What's Oklahoma's problem?

Still, I like the idea of competing rest areas.

"Last chance to pee in Missouri!"

"Peeing in Oklahoma is OK!"

Or something like that.

About 3:45, Sprout   At last, here's the toll booth. Oklahoma wants $3.50 for the privilege of driving on the turnpike. The booth attendant is very friendly, though. Older guy, he reminds me a little of my grandfather. You find that wiry, ageless white man only in the Five State Area, which is TX, OK, AR, LA, and NM. At least that's what they used to call the weather maps on the teevee news in Dallas when I was growing up.

The world's largest McDonald's straddles I-44, and although I thought about stopping, I didn't really feel like it. I wanted to eat in Tulsa, and since I was a little hungry, I figured I'd better not stop. I've been there. anyway. It's big, and it does straddle a highway. Very impressive.

5:15, approaching Tulsa  I had called Fedward, a Tulsa native, earlier to get directions to "the place with the chili dogs." (OK, actually I called him because I was at QuikTrip, and he wasn't.)  So as I approached Tulsa's rush hour, I pulled off 44 and went to the Coney I-Lander. Ordered a regular coney, which had chili, onions, and perfectly shredded American cheese. When I told the cashier that I'd been waiting about seven years to have one of these dogs, he comped my meal.

The dog lived up to expectations. Really nice chili. I could have eaten that chili solo, and I wouldn't say that about the chili you get on most dogs. If you're ever in Tulsa, make your way through the strip mall jungle to the Coney I-lander. It rocks.

Oh, Fedward, they're hiring!

Spend an hour walking around the strip mall, because I had reached the point where I needed not to be moving.

Dusk, Oblivion, OK  I spot a regular sized billboard that reads I Vote Democratic in old-fashioned script. Again, I wonder about the conceptual art teachers in the heartland who are responsible for the random messages. At least this one make sense.

9:30, Almost Texas, OK  I am clearly not going to make it to Amarillo tonight because of my late start and my detour through the strip mall. Pull off the highway into the parking lot of a Days Inn, which looks a little disreputable. So I decide to turn around, but instead of doing that, I manage to go about half a mile on an utterly deserted but surprisingly well lit road.  It takes half a mile for me to recognize what I'm doing, which is driving on the road to Lost.

I end up in a Holiday Inn. The lobby is full of drunk guys. I can tell from their outfits that they are all cowboys. Or at least they want people to think they're cowboys. The counter girl is trying to call them a cab. In Almost Texas, OK. All righty then.

Thus endeth day two.

Day Two, Missouri

7:45 a.m. Ribbon Crochet, MO  The phone rings with the wake-up call. I am reminded of a movie quote, "I slept well enough, but not long enough." Unfortunately I can't remember the movie. Roll over, sleep until 9:30.  Naturally, the "free" continental breakfast is over at 9.

I discover that I am in the middle of an industrial park, none of the roads seem to lead anywhere.  Front Desk Dude gave me a map to get back to the highway. I assume it's not to scale. I am wrong.

After two stops to consult the map, I arrive at the nexus of all good things. Sonic, QuikTrip, and Krispy Kreme within 1,000 feet of each other. How great is that? I'm wishing I knew the real name of Ribbon Crochet, Missouri, so I could remember it properly.

I walk into KK and the woman hands me a hot glazed. My day is so made.

Shortly after noon, Distributor Cap, MO  As I approach the edge of the citification around St. Louis, I notice that there's a restaurant called Lion's Choice at the next exit. What do they serve? Raw antelope on the bone? Young water buffalo?  This continues to bug me for several miles.

2:15, Wallop, MO  All of a sudden, I am surrounded by a pack of motorcycle riders. They are all on Harleys. The only reason I know this is that they're ferociously loud. The last of the riders has fringe dripping from his bike.

I think of Isadora Duncan and fear for the rider's safety.

3:00, Midvale, MO  I notice a pair of billboards. The blue one says "Adult Boutique Next Exit." The pink one says "PORN DESTROYS FAMILIES!" This has to be some expensive hipster project in Irony. Either that, or I'm really in the middle of nowhere now.  I'm a little confused by the number of adult stores along the interstate. I guess there's a market, otherwise they wouldn't be there.

The other puzzling road sign says "JESUS". Nothing else. Not "Jesus Saves" or "Jesus H. Christ." Simply "JESUS." Clearly the designer understands that if a vehicle is traveling at 75 miles per hour, one word in big letters is your best bet at conveying your message, even if it's a little unclear what that message is.

Later, I stop at a rest area. There's a rack of publications including Country Singles. The box wants a dollar for a copy of this publication, which is too bad. I'm not going back to the car for my purse, and I wouldn't waste quarters on it, anyway; but I think it might be highly amusing in my sleep-deprived state. I wonder what kind of person would really be looking for love in a rest stop, but I probably don't want to know. Other rags include Missouri Gambling,  Greensheet, and Chewing Tobacco Weekly.

OK, I made the last one up.

Walk around the rest area for a minute, pause to look at the map, and a woman approaches me. She's got the most overprocessed hair I've seen since 1987. Seriously, this 'do is a relic. It's bleached and permed, and she's got it up in a fountainesque pony tail on top of her head. It seems to walk under its own power.

She's talking about how nice it is that the state of Missouri gives away maps, because usually you have to pay for them.

Except that you don't. Almost every state provides maps at its welcome centers. I mumble something and walk away.