Roadtrip with Mom and Dad

Where's George??

2009-03-03T17:01:00.003-06:00

Back on February 16th, I was visiting my friends, JD & Angie Powell. That afternoon, JD and his dad, Jerry (also my friend) spent the day together. JD gave me a dollar bill he'd received at his grandmother's 90th birthday party. I bought a Jerry's Kids (Jerry Lewis) shamrock at The Village Inn in North Platte, Nebraska where the folks and I had brunch. To follow the journey of this iteration of George, go to www.wheresgeorge.com and enter the serial #F21648328A and the year 2006.

The Beagles Have Landed

2009-02-25T19:26:00.002-06:00

February 25th – Sioux Falls, SD to Manitoba

A quick note to let you faithful hitchhikers know that Mom & Dad have been safely returned to their welcoming shelter of Lions Manor in Winkler. We crossed back in Canada about 2:45 this afternoon.

Will post very soon after the dust of unpacking has settled.

Love to all. – Gordon

Random Drive-by Shootings

2009-02-25T00:44:00.008-06:00

February 24th – Fort Morgan, CO to Sioux Falls, SD

Okay, it's our second last day on the road. [If typos are prevalent on materials at the U.S. Space and Rocket Center in Huntsville, I suppose it's okay to find them on the entries to traveller facilities on Interstate 80 in Nebraska. So what, do you imagine, is a "Urnal Room?" A place where men can work on their blogs, as in "Urnaling?" I just wish I knew what the Braille characters indicate.]

Dad was up shortly before 6 a.m. As soon as I heard him enter the washroom, I got up and readied myself to follow him on his re-emergence. He gave me a goofy wave as we passed in the hallway – and this was a foreshadowing.

Upon re-entering the bedroom, I found Dad again under the covers, so I sat quietly and reviewed a few emails. While on the topic of catching up, I should let you know, Lawrence Klippenstein (Woodhaven Toyota), that we were most surprised to find a marked change in the gas mileage in the past few days. By the time we reached Flagstaff, we had rung the odometer up to about 8,000 km. Even with chasing around and up & down the mountains at 75 mph, that first post-8,000 km fill showed a 19% improvement to 41 mpg (Imp. Gal.). It looks like the return trip will deliver that level of improvement.

The drive today, as with yesterday's, was somewhat more subdued than previous days. I imagine each of us has been mulling over the events and significance of this road-trip, traveling some interior highways, letting the events sink in. For awhile, my folks listened to a couple of religious radio broadcasts, but the FM signal eventually gave out.

During the mid-morning dozies, I put in my ear buds and listened to some music. I noticed though, that neither Dad or Mom were snoozing, so I introduced them to Suzzy and Maggie Roche's album, "Zero Church." I have to thank you again, Geoffrey Hayes, for the fine music you have introduced me/us to over the past ten or so years of Christmas gifts. I again listened to a number of them during this trip: Keith Jarrett's "The Melody at Night, With You," and Metheny & Haden's "Beyond the Missouri Sky" to name just a few. Both M&D commented on or asked about various songs on "Zero Church." A little connect of a different sort.

While most of the songs on this album are strong, "Each of Us has a Name" always gets to me... even more so given the words of the first stanza with this shared listening:

Each of us has name
given by God
and given by our parents

Each of us has a name
given by our stature and our smile
and given by what we wear

Each of us has a name
given by the mountains
and given by our walls

Each of us has a name
given by the stars
and given by our neighbors

Each of us has a name
given by our sins
and given by our longing

Each of us has a name
given by our enemies
and given by our love

Each of us has a name
given by our celebrations
and given by our work

Each of us has a name
given by the seasons
and given by our blindness

Each of us has a name
given by the sea
and given by
our death

We stopped in North Platte for brunch at the Village Inn. Other than for the obscene portions – again, and as always – I should let you know, JD Powell, that I didn't spend that $1 bill you gave me in Sedona as you suggested. I used it to buy a shamrock to help send Jerry's Kids (and how appropriate is that) to camp. The significance of the dollar bill is that it is traceable. I made note of the serial number, JD, but not the bill series (year). If you have it, could you let me know, and I'll post it so others can follow the bill, too?

Dad decided to take a turn behind the wheel after brunch so, for 82 miles, I got a chance to check things out from the co-pilot's seat.

At about Mile 310 on I80, we got the special musical treat I'd promised my folks. Suddenly the car was filled with the strangest drone music, caused by a constantly-changing groove pattern on the road. Ruth and I encountered this phenomenon in January. What we didn't do was try for a duet and, much to my pleasure and the folks' amusement, straddling the two east-bound lanes created a rare musical moment.

The third musical event occurred shortly after entering Iowa. I don't recall how I puzzled Dad, but I finally got him to follow my twisted thinking, and he appropriately broke into what I think of as his hallmark song; a tune I recall him strumming and singing from my earliest years:

I was born on a farm out in Ioway
A flaming youth I was bound I would fly away
I packed my grip and I grabbed my saxophone

Can't read notes, but I play anything by ear
I made up tunes on the sounds that I used to hear
When I'd start to play, folks used to say
"Sounds a little Goofus to me"

(*) Cornfed chords appeal to me
I like rustic harmony
Hold a note and change the key
Hey, but that's Goofus

Not according to the rules
That you learn in music schools
But the folks just dance like fools
They sure go for " Goofus"

Got a job but I just couldn't keep it long
The leader said that I played all the music wrong
So I stepped out with an outfit of my own

(**) Got together a new kind of orchestree
And we all played just the same "Goofus" harmony
And I must admit we made a hit
"Goofus" has been lucky for me

Repeat (*)
Repeat (**)

Well, that's about it. The clock says I have once again stared this computer into a new day. It's now officially the last day of this adventure. Mom & Dad have already snuffled their way through a few hours of sleep. Time I join them in that non-endeavour.

Night all. Love to all who have followed us. I'll post again in the next couple of days.

And, by the way, it would be heartening for Mom & Dad if those of you who have hitched along on this blog would leave a comment so they can read them when I print it up for them. God – and Gord – bless.

The Folks Become Road Warriors

2009-02-23T23:01:00.003-06:00

February 23rd – Holbrook, AZ to Fort Morgan, CO

This post is short and sweet. The drive was relatively long, but things went well. The weather, with the exception of some periods of heavy sidewinds, was fine. Traffic was generally light, passing through Albuquerque and the greater Denver excepted.

The first leg of our journey home began with our departure from Sedona on Sunday afternoon. The drive back to Holbrook was 155 miles.

The folks and I were mobile shortly after 7 a.m. this morning. During the drive, I listened to music periodically and shot (images, that is) somewhat aimlessly through the windows while at speed.

Shortly after 7 p.m., we arrived in Fort Morgan and checked into a motel with 795 miles behind us. The folks did incredibly well with that kind of confinement. Dad found it almost funny to find that his legs were pretty spongy from all that sitting. Dinner and showers done, we vegged for awhile, then let sleep claim us.

Out.

To Everything, A Season

2009-02-22T23:37:00.009-06:00

February 22nd – Holbrook, AZ to Sedona, AZ Return

This chapter of the blog is hard to contemplate, more difficult to write. Today has been a "been there, done that," a "once-in-a-lifetime," an "is this all there is" experience for your humble narrator.

It's 8:30 p.m. MST, and Mom has just joined Dad in bed. One light on above the table and my laptop. The sound of eighteen-wheelers rolling up and down I40. The plaintive wail of trains lugging container cars east and west. A woman coughing in the next room. Tears threatening. Could it have been better for them? Was it good enough? God knows. Nothing to do about it now.

It's time to take them home, I know that. But I wish I could have shown them more, let them see some of my U.S. places. So little time, because I began so late. The irrevocable truth is that I have done what I have done – not what I wish I had done – to honour my parents.

Tomorrow morning we make for the frigid north and home, where we will have to wait many weeks before we experience the +21º C. of Sedona this afternoon. How many more opportunities will we be able to make in order to share this kind of time together?

But I'm way ahead of myself: I haven't yet sketched the events of our day to, in and from Sedona.

My Dad has been to Sedona twice before; once with Mom, and with a baseball team another. Their trip together was in 1975, with Mr. & Mrs. George Enns. Both times, Dad visited the Chapel on the Hill, a tourist destination Ruth and I did not reach on our visit back in November '08. This particular site seems to have been Dad's Holy Grail for this portion of the trip, and all else Sedonan seemed insignificant.

We arrived in Sedona via the Oak Creek Canyon Road from Flagstaff around 11:30, having all slept in. Over breakfast in Holbrook's Super 8 Motel, we had exchanged pleasantries with a couple headed to Phoenix to see their son, and a tall rancher type from east of Albuquerque. The couple lives in South Dakota halfway between Sioux Falls, SD and Sioux City, IA, "nine miles off the interstate, and close enough to IA to have an IA address." They, of course, were eager to exchange cold weather/winter stories with us. Our departure was considerably later than we had anticipated it would be in our plan-making the previous evening.

I insisted that our first stop be the Wildflower Bakery in Sedona. We ordered three soup and 1/2 sandwich lunch specials – Southwestern Veggie Roasted Corn Soup and a chicken salad sandwich – and three coffees. Praise all 'round.

The Outlook Mesa at the Sedona Airport was next, followed by a quick shopping trip at Tlaquepaque Arts & Crafts Village on the banks of Oak Creek. Surprise prevents any discussion of the few items purchased, other than for the turquoise pendant Mom bought for herself as a memento of this trip.

Next came the short pilgrimage to the Chapel of the Holy Cross. This unusual Catholic church was completed in 1956, and was the vision and gift of Marguerite Bruswig Staude to the Diocese of Phoenix and St John Vianney. Dad was happy to linger up here for quite some time, this place having obviously provided an important inspiration to him on his previous visits. Mom emerged from the gift shop, delightedly showing off a Chapel creche Christmas tree ornament Dad had bought for her.

Dad, however, was visibly tired. We had discussed the remaining itinerary over lunch, and he expressed the wish to head home. We toured a few of the easily accessible landmarks – Cathedral Rock, Bell Rock and Courthouse Rock. We drove further south on #179, through Oak Creek village, and on toward the I17 on-ramp. Soon after, we were back at the registration desk of the Super 8 Motel.

That's it. Not quite, of course. There are still 1,836 miles to traverse and, perhaps, a few more memories to create.

Over and out.

Passin' through Bushland, and the Leaning Tower of Britten

2009-02-21T22:59:00.007-06:00

February 21st – Elk City, OK to Holbrook, AZ

Over 660 miles in less than twelve hours... not too bad for this crew. And an hour of that time was spent in the company of a crowded Denny's in Amarillo, TX, waiting with a declining measure of equanimity for their meals. (Bushland Grain elevator at Bushland exit off I40 in George's Texas.)

But today's weather, with the exception of some very windy periods, was perfect for car travel. We woke to some very cool temperatures in the only occupied room of the Flamingo Motel, having shut off the heater prior to retiring. Dad was up by 6 a.m. and I roused myself about the same time. With the heater rumbling, I got a shower, made my espresso and, with Dad's help got the car packed and checked for a 7 a.m. departure. As we were packing up, we also saw a short report on The Weather Channel about the property destruction caused by the wildfire we saw raging on the outskirts of Oklahoma City as we drove through the previous day.

Other than for food and fuel, we didn't venture off of I40 for the entire day. Mom & Dad swapped shotgun duty a few times as I kept the car highway-bound without any real sleepiness for the twelve-hour hike to Arizona. The sun shone from a clear sky, and traffic was moderate. After covering the 22 miles or so from Elk City to the state line, we drove across the Texas Panhandle, then traversed New Mexico, and arrived in Arizona in the later hours of the afternoon.

Prior to tucking in last night back in Elk City, Mom & Dad had given me a clearer idea of what they wanted out of the final legs of the trip. Based on their comments, I determined that we would need to drive to Sedona as directly as possible (so sorry, Jim Rodger, that meant foregoing a drive through El Paso, TX and a report on the current welfare of the El Paso Truck Terminal; and Shirley and Leonard McCaw in Scottsdale, a possible lunch – which I hadn't even dared raise with you), spend a day exploring Sedona and environs, then drive up through Utah to Moab (lots more red-rock canyon country), then boogie for home and a Thursday arrival in Winkler. This plan met with approval, and today's the marathon drive to Arizona marked its launch.

We're all rather weary tonight, so I'll get some photos cleaned up and get this post online. We only have a two-hour drive to Sedona in the morning. We're looking forward to a day of a more relaxed exploration and shopping as opposed to concerted asphalt chew-up. Goodnight Ruth, I love you. Miss you profoundly.

A Passed-Up Pig Out Palace, and Kicks on Route 66

2009-02-20T22:15:00.008-06:00

February 20th – Conway, AR to Elk City, OK

Dad stuck his head in my bedroom at around 7:20 a.m. on Thursday morning. I had worked on the blog until 1:30 a.m., falling asleep around 2 a.m. A groggy 'good morning,' at best.

Janet uttered a fair few dramatic sobs through the early morning, while Abe commented that the bags looked a lot less appealing exiting the house. I made sure to toss the frisbee for Mahwin, and gave the Senegal Parrot, Cuddles, some time on my shoulder to nibble on cashews.

The car packed, the emotional good-byes made, Abe and Janet stood by as we belted into the Camry and pulled out. It was surreal.

While our last day's drive to Huntsville had been accomplished primarily under a torrential downpour, the drive back west started and stayed under brilliant sunshine. We had agreed on a more leisurely approach to our post-Huntsville drives, so we stopped at the same Conway hotel that we had stayed at nine nights earlier. We also had our evening meal at the same McAlister's Deli, and were served by Robert, the same courteous young man.

Good night, all.

This morning (Friday, the 20th) dawned crisp and clear, with the temperatures just under the freezing mark. While Dad and I woke early enough, we sauntered our way through the first hour or more and, by sometime after 8, were finally back on I40. I hadn't made my usual espresso hit, so I was fairly hazy until I found a Starbucks in Russellville, AR. A poor substitute these days, I must say. Sometime later, we needed to make a pitstop and bumped into Huckleberry's Pig Out Palace just outside Henryetta, OK. Happily, it was not a fit with our schedule, and so we pulled back out onto the interstate.

Everything else was a little hum-drum until, just as we were about to pass Elk City, I spotted a sign for the National Route 66 Museum. Mom & Dad immediately expressed interest in stopping, despite the fact that is was around 3:30 p.m. and we were still two hours from our anticipated destination, Amarillo, TX. We had just over an hour to do a too-quick survey of the city's shrine to one of the most famous routes in modern times.

And, Allison and Pete, I couldn't convince them to let me remove this pram from their exhibit, so I had to settle for something considerably more mundane and touristy. Sorry.

With the museum closing at 5 p.m., Dad suggested we stay in Elk City. We also were unable to negotiate the purchase of an antique camper trailer in the exhibit, so I suggested the Flamingo Motel back down 3rd Street (as we had once had a motel by the same name in Winnipeg). A young man from the Indian continent, who had purchased the business one year ago, showed us a decent, recently renovated room, and we became his sole customers for the night.

Before and after dinner, the folks and I talked about what was reasonable and doable within the days remaining in the month. While Mom has said that this break in their at-home routine has been wonderful, the overall effort and lack of routine has been tiring for both of my folks. Dad commented, as we were considering our options, that this would likely be his last trip of this kind. This was only one of the moments of pathos we have encountered during this past two weeks. This trip is about making memories precisely because we all recognize that the time for making them is so limited.

After extensive use of maps.google.com, we came up with an acceptable itinerary. Dad retired after a shower, while Mom did her devotional reading and I hammered away on this blog.

And, now, it's time for my retirement. Love to all who are still with us on this journey.

Explorations, Flicks 'n Prayers

2009-02-19T22:36:00.003-06:00

February 17th & 18th – Huntsville, AL

Tuesday
Tuesday's daylight hours were downtime for most everyone. We idled through breakfast, morning, lunch and the early afternoon. Mom & Dad started to prepare for a Thursday departure (of which the folks advised our wonderful hosts at lunch), while Janet prepared for the house for the arrival of their Bible study group and Abe barbeque chicken for the evening feast. (Right, 5 thrusters each over 10 feet across, capable of a combined force of 7.5 million pounds of thrust.)

I, on the other hand, tinkered with this blog, assessed and tweaked photos, drafted text, and accepted an offer from cousin, Darren, to help do away with some Persian leftovers and to watch a Kurosawa film. (Mom at the controls of a Shuttlecraft landing simulator.)

Ruhi's Persian delicacies were wonderful again, and the movie, "High and Low," was a completing engaging black & white treat. It was doubly satisfying to learn that two cousins with very little contact over nearly five decades should have a number of interests – movies, music and spirituality among them – in common. Darren had clearly made a study of Kurosawa's work, while I tend to be quixotic in my movie selections. That said, I was delighted to have him introduce me to another aspect of Kurosawa's work of which I knew nothing.

Back at Janet & Abe's house, Mom & Dad really enjoyed their immersion into a completely new group. They had a great time, and commented that all of Janet & Abe's friends in this group extended great hospitality and exuberance.

Wednesday
Last full day in Huntsville. The five of us headed for the U.S. Space and Rocket Center well before lunch. Mom & Dad got a close-up look at the artifacts of an era that, in so many ways, seems already so far away. Was it all staged in a Nevada desert site after all?? Nah, of course not, and the shear immensity of the hardware was most impressive.

On returning to Abe & Janet's, Darren called again with a double invitation: to join the Huntsville B'hai community at his house for a prayer gathering in support of the seven now under arrest in Iran, and to watch another movie.

It was a rare opportunity to share in the concerns of another community, and even more gripping in that two of the detained individuals are friends of Ruhi's.

Darren had selected "Memento" for this viewing. This Christopher Nolan film's subject had an eerie effect, as my memory is flawed as well. As the film unwound – or, more accurately, rewound – my tension rose dramatically. This film will get a number more viewings, Darren. Thanks. And, if you have the chance, check out Tykwer's "Winter Sleepers" and Susanne Bier's "After the Wedding" as examples of movies that have resonated for me.

Back at Abe & Janet's, the folks were watching a couple of movies with their hosts as well. Two homes, four films, many prayers for a better world, and food to nourish the body. One extended family growing in understanding. The end of a visit. The anticipation of the next. Midnight. Time for rest.

Food & Wheels

2009-02-19T01:12:00.010-06:00

February 16th – Lebanon Hermitage and Nashville, TN

I awoke about 7:15 Monday morning to slatted sunshine spilling over me. I was wrapped in a cocoon of homemade blankets in the RV trailer JD had offered to give me a little privacy and, I suspect, insulation from the 5 - 6 a.m. waking of the children.

As I stepped out into the brilliant, frostbitten air, I was instantaneously greeted by Levi, the retriever, and Girl (or Storm, for the conditions in which this stray arrived some years ago). It's getting bad. Since Rebus arrived in our lives, I seem to fall for virtually every dog I meet. These two playful dogs were no exception.

I was greeted by aromas and family goings-on as I entered the house. The air was rich with the smells of bacon, sausage, gravy, biscuits and coffee. JD and Angie were cozied on one of the couches, Anslee at their feet and playing with her princess castle set. Connor and Luke were huddled around JD's laptop at the kitchen table, checking out new plans for their K'nex construction kit.

Another tasty meal once again partaken, we began organizing for sometime out and about. Angie, though at first hesitant to have the children leave, got excited by the prospect of some to herself with a book on the couch. The children gathered up trading cards, books and stuffed toys, buckled themselves up in the back of the Suburban and we made the short drive to Jerry and Charlotte's home in Hermitage, TN. Charlotte gave me a warm welcome to Hermitage, then disappeared after her flock of grandchildren, which had vanished into the house. JD opened the door to Jerry's workshop and waved me in.

Bro Bob, you would have been in heaven. My brother is a car/gun/motorcycle/radio/old-stuff-generally nut. Vintage stuff filled every corner, from radios to toys and motorcycles, with everything in-between. Jerry was working on a couple of bikes, though his own bikes were gleaming and near-at-hand: several vintage BMWs and a rare Norton Manxman among them.

Jerry has been a motorcycle enthusiast forever, at least since his uncle, I believe, gave him a ride when he was young. I don't recall Jerry's exact words, but the gist was that his whole world changed with that ride.

It's obvious that Jerry is well and widely connected with all things vintage. He restores older bikes for enthusiasts all over the country, and he has a passion for cars as well, witness the Triumph and MG sitting out front of the workshop.In that regard, he suggested the three of us drive into Nashville to visit his friend, Jeff Lane's, auto museum (lanemotormuseum.org).

Jeff greeted Jerry warmly as we walked in and, a few minutes later, we were winding our way through the rows of auto oddities. The museum has amassed a collection of over 150 unusual, mostly European, vehicles. Jeff's fascination with vehicles is grounded in his father's passion for restoring British sports cars. For his 12th Christmas, he asked for and got his own restoration project, a 1955 MG TF basket-case.

A couple of notable vehicles were: a black version of the first bike Dad got for me in '67, a 65cc Honda Sport; and a fire Push Me / Pull You Fire Responder built for narrow mountain roads where turning around was impossible. The latter reminded me of many circumstances in life.

After doing a fairly thorough survey of all the displays, Jerry suggested lunch at the local Harley dealership. He has had a connection with the owners since he and they were young boys. Boswell's has a diner as part of the dealership, and the smell of food makes buyers of most everyone who steps inside. I bit at Jerry's recommendation of the catfish. Once again, I overate, but the meal was truly fine. No 10W50 or machine finings were detected in any of the fare.

We finished up our time together with a quick drive around downtown Nashville (Doris Day's high school, the Grand Old Opry, the Parthenon, and other landmarks) then headed back to pick up the children at Jerry and Charlotte's.

Southern hospitality is unique. You honestly feel like you will be missed and that your imposition on your hosts was their pleasure. I'll miss Jerry and Charlotte. JD and I got the kids home and, before heading back to Huntsville, I made my fond farewells and some photos of the family.

The BMW National Rally is in Johnson City, TN this July and I plan to see these fine folks again at that time. Then, of course, there's the Shiloh rally in fall, the Great Chicken Rally in Huntsville, and my relatives. I think the Powells may see more of me than they might have anticipated. I made the drive back to Huntsville with gratitude for the time up around Nashville and for the time to come with family in Huntsville and beyond.

I walked in the door of Abe & Janet's to the sound of crokinole. Dad and Samineh were teamed up against Abe. The scent of competitiveness hung heavy in the air. Eventually I, too, was drawn into the fray from which I escaped without too much blood let.

Ivy Green – Guest Blog, Janet Hiebert

2009-02-18T10:03:00.009-06:00

February 16th – Daytrip to Tuscumbia, AL

The young whippersnapper is off visiting friends so Margaret, Jake, Abe and I are off to Ivy Green, home of Helen Keller in Tuscumbia, Alabama. To substitute for that rapscallion of a nephew, we brought our sweet granddaughter, Samineh, was us. What a breath of fresh air! LOL

It's about 1 1/2 hours from Huntsville so it's a nice day's outing for us. We stopped in Tuscumbia for a quick lunch at the Waffle House and then off to Helen Keller's which was once over 100+ acres but now just 10 acres that has been kept up by the Parks Historical Society.

We took a wonderful tour of the home in which Helen was raised. Helen was six or seven before her teacher, Mary Sullivan, came to live with them. She hoped to make a breakthrough with Helen who had becomd sick when she was about 1 1/2 years old. It was this illness that had made her deaf and blind. She had become very frustrated and unmanageable. We then went outside, visited the cottage where Mary took Helen to be away from her family, and then the water pump where Helen finally got the idea that things had a name when Mary pumped water over her hand and Mary tapped the word into the palm of her hand. Helen learned over 30 words that first day and went on in her life to graduate Cum Laude from University and to visit many Presidents. She wrote several books over her lifetime. See the pics.

As we were driving home, us women fell asleep in the backseat.

When we got home, Margaret made some homemade Summer Borsht that we put up for a later date - I can tell you that Abe and I will think wonderful thoughts as we eat it in the next few months. . . Nummers.

Love Aunty Janet

Church, a Roadhouse, and a Trip to Lebanon

2009-02-17T13:37:00.003-06:00

February 15th – Huntsville, AL and Lebanon, TN

It's a week since the folks and I left Manitoba. Today is a lovely day, cooler than we have been experiencing for the past five days or so, but much nicer than the -20º Celsius back in Winkler.

After a leisurely morning, including a too-short run for me, we drive over to Huntsville Christian Church. Abe & Janet have attended since shortly after moving here, and it's clear they have made themselves at home: they seem be warm friends with everyone.

Just a short drive from church, Logan's Roadhouse was alive with peanut-eating customers. Shells covered the floors, and the aroma of BBQ filled the air. The offerings were delicious and the prices reasonable, but the servings were almost ridiculously large. The burgers were too tall to bite and fries overflowed the plate. Even leaving food on the plate didn't prevent a feeling of drastic overeating. Explain to me again why North Americans are ballooning in size?

By 2:45 the Camry was northward bound on the 111-mile drive to JD Powell's house near Lebanon, TN. I met JD at a BMW motorcycle rally at Pickwick Dam, TN last fall. His gentleness and kindness, his engaging personality and thoughtful approach to life made an immediate impression on me as we exchanged stories and ideas. We kept in contact by email through the winter, and when this trip with the folks firmed up, I asked whether there might be a chance to visit with him again.

I took a secondary but more direct route, Highway 231 through Fayetteville, TN to Murfreesboro, then Highway 840 to Lebanon. Hwy. 231 is a lovely drive – would have be wonderful on bike, with undulation through the low mountains and twisties everywhere. The scenery was lovely, with some fine examples of houses built with plentiful, local shale rock.

I arrived at JD's around 4:45 and was warmly welcomed by his wife, Angie, father, Jerry, and mother, Charlotte. Their children, Anslee, Luke and Connor were absorbed in play, but stopped to welcome this hairy foreigner from the land of snow ("Cool!). Jerry had ridden to the Shilo Rally ("the best rally by a dam site") last year, but we hadn't met there. We established our mutual BMW credentials before Jerry and Charlotte left with a promise that JD and I visit Jerry's motorcycle shop nearby in the morning.

It had been a long time since I had sat down to eat with a young family and it was, frankly, a treat – the food, the company and the children. JD and Angie exercise a gentle control over their offspring, giving direction while not demanding absolute compliance. From what I could see, they had the right approach in hand.

After the meal, the children left us adults in favour of a DVD. We exchanged experiences and stories – about children, motorcycling, astronomy, camping, David Attenborough documentaries – and had a taste of muscadine, a local wine. Soon enough it was 10 p.m. and time for bed. I was flummoxed to find that all three children had already been asleep for an hour or so. My kids always fought to be up until one minute after their parents went to bed. And Angie tells me that this behaviour is of their own choosing!

The Tennessee night was cool at around freezing, but all was still and sleep soon claimed me.

Ribs 'n Wii

2009-02-17T10:40:00.009-06:00

February 14th – Huntsville and Madison, AL

Well, today wasn't U.S. Space & Rocket Center day. For reasons that were unclear to me, while I was upstairs blobbing (as my folks call it) after breakfast, the "elders" decided against a trip to rocket heaven.

Dad had expressed an interest in some BBQ, so I decided it was my turn to buy. I asked Abe about Dreamland BBQ and, based on his enthusiastic endorsement, the five of us bundled into the CRV once again. I'll let you, my faithful hitchhikers, determine from the photos how Dad felt about the experience.

After lunch, I took the Camry to a filling station. Lawrence, I can tell you that the car had just over 2,800 km when we left Winkler. It now has about 5,100. We drove most of the way on interstates at between 70 and 75 mph, with virtually all of the southbound travel into a stiff crosswind. Most of the last half day eastward into Huntsville was in a torrential downpour. The overall mileage was 34.6 mpg (Imp), with the final 440 miles at 36.3 mpg.

After a quick shop for a few toiletries, we made the short drive to Madison and the home of Abe & Janet's eldest son, Darren, and his family for 4 p.m. Ruhi, his wife is Iranian and she prepared a sumptuous Persian feast for us. The Mennonite in four of us once again sated by potent combination of family and food. After the meal, their daughter, Samineh, favoured us with a selection on the piano, then on violin.

Following a flurry of picture taking, Janet reminded Samineh that I needed to have my Wii age determined.

After a migration from the great room to the front sitting room, Samineh created a gaming caricature of me and then hooked me to the *&%#@ device. I immediately felt an age. I managed to flail my way through a test of bowling quite well, followed by baseball (not "been bery, bery good to me," Jose Jimenez) and tennis, which I played like Boris Badenov. Still and all, I came away within a year of my age, and retired to the sidelines. Samineh and Darren are seriously competitive and, following Samineh's frustrating rounds of boxing, her dad whupped her good, coming through with an age of 33.

The highlight of the evening, though, was Mom taking a whack at Wii with tests in bowling, tennis and baseball. She actually scored three years younger than her actual age. Next thing we know, Mom will be thinking of picking up an iPhone and a computer. And why (Wii) not?

Time for bed. After hugs and thanks we headed back to Huntsville's Monrovia Junction.

Waffling

2009-02-14T11:50:00.005-06:00

February 13th – Huntsville, AL

We decided that today was U.S. Space & Rocket Center day.

First stop was Costco, to replace the ailing DVD player.

Next stop, Abe's favorite Waffle House (Dad's request). As we pulled in, Abe said, "There's Randy and his wife," referring to a police officer and his wife standing at the door. They waved in recognition. Inside, waitress Sue welcomed Abe like a long-lost friend and the rest of the staff echoed the greeting.

We made our way to the Rocket Center and, as I asked about tickets, was told that the Imax movie was almost over. Other than for the Saturn V rocket outside the entrance to the museum, there was also a Lockheed SR-71 jet capable of speeds up to 2,150 mph and altitudes of 85,000 feet.

We decided to visit the gift shop and return on Saturday. Mom managed to find a couple of gifts for folks back home, then we headed back to Abe & Janet's, taking a circuitous route so that we could see some of the other neighbourhoods in Huntsville.

We lounged away the remainder of the afternoon, as Janet prepared a traditional Mennonite dinner of fried sausage and kjltje met schmauntfat. Mmmm. Feel those arteries closing, but such fine comfort food.

Janet & Mom decided to take another kick at watching Evan Almighty. Just as the movie was ending, the picture started acting up again. Maybe it wasn't the old player after all, although the disk was unblemished and worked fine in my laptop. Meanwhile Dad snoozed and Abe worked his way through the 37 emails he had received from his friend, best man and California neighbour, Randy.

An early evening for all.

What do You Mean, Ginger????

2009-02-13T16:52:00.012-06:00

February 12th – Huntsville, AL

After a leisurely start to the morning, we loaded ourselves into Abe's CRV and headed for Huntsville's newest "now-in-trouble-after-the-economic-downturn" upscale mall, Bridge Street Town Centre. It features stores like Apple, Bebe, Coldwater Creek, Kate Spade and Victoria's Secret. The site includes a small manmade lake with authentic Venetian gondolas, an elaborate carousel, and a 14-screen cinema that offers plush leather lounges and bar service during the features.

After a stroll down the plaza (including an examination of the now-drained lake to repair leaks), we were seated in the Cantina Laredo. A lovely lunch, starting with a tableside-prepared guacamole, followed with thanks to Abe & Janet. I stuck my head in the Apple store on the way back down the plaza, but was happy to escape without purchasing anything, as Apple's pricing policy makes buying in Canada a much better deal. I don't think Mom and Janet tempted themselves at all, nor did Dad or Abe.

I did, however, step into the Chocolate Crocodile. Janet had mentioned her love of mint truffles the day before, so I got her six large truffles for Valentine's Day, as well as a box of chocolate for Mom.

It's a curious thing to be a couple of weeks from 59 years of age and to feel like a teen again. The reason for this situation? Well, take your parents to visit an aunt and uncle. They have their history together. We're there with Dad's car. We go out together in a CRV. I sit in the back between my mother and aunt. I ask – out of courtesy – to use Dad's car and get an attenuated response. I think I may have to act out here. Maybe I can join that little kid in the corner of my aunt's house.

When we got back to the house Mom and Janet relaxed on the porch, southern-style, while I fixed a wobbly dining room chair and was rewarded with a dinner of chicken noodle soup. Janet has based her broth on my mother's recipe and, I have to say, she has done a stupendous job of putting her own mark on the dish.

Then There's the Ginger.
Ohhhh yes. And then there was cruel irony for dessert. As we were enjoying the soup, I began to tell Abe & Janet about my decades-old theory that Mom has been holding out on me regarding the ingredients of her chicken soup broth. Janet and Mom began rhyming off the spices... yes, yes, yes, yes..... "WHAT???? GINGER????," I roared. "When was ginger added to the recipe?" "Always has been," Mom replied. "That's right," Janet confirmed. "Not for me," I retorted.

Who has been my Mom's biggest chicken soup fan? Me. Mom will confirm this. Who's the last to know about a hunk of fresh ginger being one of the spices? Me. So, after decades of suspecting that I didn't have the full recipe, it takes a 1,500 mile trip – WITH MY MOM IN TOW, NO LESS – to find out that my theory has been fact all along. How many more years before I find out that Mom, Janet, bro Bob and others have been part of a grand and subversive plot to hide the ultimate recipe from your poor, bereft blogger? My heart is heavy... and it's not heartburn. And to think I told them about my little addition of a pinch of tarragon.

After dinner, we sat down to watch Evan Almighty. Unfortunately, even the combined born-again Christian fervency of my folks and Abe and Janet couldn't get the DVD player to function properly. Abe's less-than-judicious applications of the fist to the equipment didn't improve playback. So, with heads nodding all over the couches, the group disbursed for respective bedrooms. Dreams – and a new DVD player – to follow. G'night all.

Cuddles is Abe's Co-Pilot

2009-02-13T10:35:00.004-06:00

February 11th – Huntsville, AL

The folks and I slept in this morning. It was well after 8:00 a.m. that we stumbled downstairs to Janet's hugs, Abe's coffee, Mahwin's supplicatory dervish dance, and Cuddles' clucking exhortations for a new shoulder on which to perch.

Okay, let's be straight-up about this: my Aunt Janet is not shy, not a Bashful Betty, a Subtle Sue. That's what makes her such a treat. In lieu of singing for my supper, a couple of honey-dos were on order. After breakfast, out came the box she had mentioned the day before. Inside? Six pleated venetian blinds for her kitchen. I installed three by the time Abe announced that the men need to go out for awhile.

Abe may only have lived in Huntsville for a few years, but he is already widely known as the Birdman: Cuddles is on his shoulder wherever he goes, restaurants and grocery stores excepted. As I took a few pictures of Abe's co-pilot, she made it very clear that she wanted to join me in the back seat.

As I held out my hand, Cuddles latched onto my sleeve with her beak and hauled herself aboard my arm. After a few tentative minutes I started enjoying enjoying the feeling of being Barnacle Bill, the Sailor. Cuddles is a relatively sedate parrot, and very affectionate into the bargain. Abe has a fine companion.

As it was almost noon, we turned into Rosie's Mexican Cantina. Great food and service. Our destination after lunch was Harbor Freight, the Army Surplus equivalent of tool stores. An hour or so of wandering garnered no must-buys for any of us, but we departed with our scavenging instincts satiated.

On arriving back at the house, we had our ears thoroughly cudgeled for not having taken Mom and Janet to Rosie's. "Hi Honey, I'm wrong." I hung the remaining blinds to atone and earn my bed for the night.

For those of you who are not familiar with Mennonite ways, food is central to all socializing, and much discussion must be made regarding its selection and enjoyment. Dad hadn't yet had Chinese, so we headed to the China Buffet, a favorite of our hosts. I'm glad to report that none of us escaped the sin of gluttony this night. Even Janet piled it on (sorry, Aunty), and I more than most. Sushi – lots of it – with wasabi and ginger, egg drop soup, hot and sour soup, and samplings of virtually every dish on offer. Hmmmm, thanks for the lovely meal M&D.

Off to bed, with Alka Seltzer on the side.

Piloting Noah's Ark

2009-02-12T17:59:00.006-06:00

February 10th – Conway, AR to Huntsville, AL
It's Thursday morning, and trying to dredge up the details of Tuesday morning is proving difficult; too much sunshine outside, a Senegal Parrot calling for some attention, and a migraine trying to bloom are getting in the way.

Dad's rummaging around brought me awake with a start at 6:50 this morning after four and a half hours of sleep. We all seemed to be running a little slow after 1,100 miles. By 8:00, we began the last leg of our trip to Huntsville. The weather in Conway was markedly better than The Weather Channel was forecasting: monsoon-like rain and tornados from here all the way to Huntsville throughout the day. Given our off-Interstate sightseeing trip to Eureka Springs, we had covered

Traffic on I40 was light as we hit the on-ramp, however, ten minutes later we crested a hill and saw traffic stopped for a mile and disappearing over the horizon. The twelve miles to the I430 Texarkana exit near Little Rock took 45 minutes to cover and, almost immediately after clearing that delay, we slammed into the wall of rain that had been forecast. The deluge carried on unrelentingly, with only a few reprieves, for the next three hours to Collierville, TN. Truck traffic was heavy, kicking up thick clouds of vapour that made passing knuckle-whiteningly difficult – particularly when passing behind another vehicle.

I know Mom & Dad were on edge because of the conditions, which heightened my caution and anxiousness. Thankfully, the Camry's OEM tires were good enough that we only had one brush with momentary hydroplaning, although conditions often prompted traffic to slow to 50 mph. Blessedly, one of the pauses in the rain occurred as we wound our way past Memphis.

With the downpour finally at bay, we pulled into Corinth, Mississippi and stopped for lunch at the Waffle House, a chain of diner-style eateries. We were served by a busy little fireplug named Courtney who, when the 18 year-old wasn't serving customers, busied herself with bussing, wiping, loading and emptying the dishwasher and, generally, keeping the place tidy. She told us she had been working as a waitress since she was 13, and that she had learned much from her dad who had been involved in restaurant management for many years. As we left, she called out, "Y'all have a good day now, darlin."

I could sense M&D's anticipation rising as we entering the gravitational pull of Huntsville. Mom got out her comb and Dad straightened himself up a bit as the final miles slipped underneath us. Huntsville is a city approaching 500,000. Technology, space, and defense industries, the Army's Redstone Arsenal and NASA's Marshall Space Flight Center are major players, and their influence has "un-Southernized" this Alabama city. In fact, Abe & Janet are here because their son was drawn here by the space program. The Saturn 5 rocket towering over the U.S. Space and Credit Center signalled the last leg of our destination.

The GPS worked its magic, depositing us at Mom's brother's mailbox. I hadn't seen my folks exit the car that quickly even for washroom stops. The meeting after two and a half years was jubilant and hug-heavy.

Weather conditions in Huntsville were curiously benign, given the dire forecasts we had heard in the morning and the westward-moving weather we had passed through during the morning. However, sometime after arriving, the weather-warning radio alarm sounded and Janet switched on the National Weather Service's broadcast which advised that conditions were favourable for the development of tornados in Huntsville and Madison County. Shortly thereafter, a sudden blast of wind shattered the calm. Happily, nothing more than wind and a bit of rain ensued.

Frankly, I don't remember the details of the evening, except that Janet had a lovely homemade stew ready for us. Their Maltese dog, Mahwin, and Cuddles, a Senegal Parrot made for interesting dynamics.

And then, blessedly, sleep claimed us as soon as Janet showed us to our rooms. More to follow after what dreams may come.

Driving like Ozark Mountain Daredevils, eh?

2009-02-10T00:27:00.009-06:00

February 9th – Council Bluffs, IA to Conway, AR
I was trumpeted awake shortly before 5: 30 – not by Gabriel or Louis Armstrong, but by the multi-noted (diminished 7th???) chord of the engine of a railway shunt crew. Rather than think to complain to one of the railways that hub in Council Bluffs (Union Pacific, Burlington Northern Santa-Fe, Canadian National and Iowa Interstate), I felt wonderfully lulled back to my childhood days in Plum Coulee, when the CPR still had a station and station master, at least two jigger crews, and regular service – first with steam locomotives and then the diesels. Then, as today, the strains of my folks' nocturnal breathing was added to the mix. A nice way to start a day – then and now.

A slightly less pleasant sound evoked the fine sound of Ann Peebles, who also couldn't 'stand the rain against her window.'

So what where did we get to, and what did we get up to today, the second day of our road-trip? Hmmm. The day managed to get somewhat away on me, so my tired mind is not processing as well as it might. But... I do want to get this blog current.

A raid on the continental breakfast room yielded fruit and juice for me, and a wide sampling of the other items on offer by my folks. I had long ago decided I would not subject myself to the insults of American institutional coffee at the start of the day, so I headed for the room. Out came the Aeropress espresso coffee press and espresso coffee – both obtained from my friend and coffee guru, Trevis Boyd, owner of Black Pearl Coffee in Winnipeg. What ensued was a viscous orgy of taste, aroma and jolt as I savoured the three-shot hit. [To place yours ads in this blog, please remit large amounts of American currency to this blogger's personal attention. Insert humorous jokey icon here.]

By 7:40, we were on the road and under the clouds. The rain hung back for a time, but the wind that blew in made a strong statement about what was to follow. We traced I29 into Missouri, threaded our way through the Kansas City maze of interchanges, paused in Butler for lunch at the McDonald's (where Mom was delighted when I pointed out that the Muzac was actually gospel music) and then carried on the the southwest corner of the state.

We headed east briefly on I44, then followed the GPS's routing south on #37 through Pierce City, Monett, Cassville and Viola. We stopped around Cassville and played a game of "Where are Jake and Margaret anyway?"

Within minutes of exiting I44, Dad began to make the first anxious noises about, "did I or the GPS know where we were going, what we were doing?" I finally confessed that it was my intention to abandon Mom & Dad in one of the empty, gutted double-wides littering these little-traveled roads. "See, Mother, I knew he wanted the Camry and all the money." "He even told us not to bring your cell phone." Mom responded. I have to admit a considerable lack of follow-through on my ad-hoc plan: my folks are asleep in the adjacent bed as I type.

A significant portion of that ride was punctuated by scenes of less than ideal living circumstances: too many mobile homes or trailers with unkempt or disastrous yards. But that saddening stuff was an amazing juxtaposition of what Mom & Dad saw as we neared Eureka Springs.

First, a wide valley with incredible vistas.

Then the arrival in Eureka Springs, Arkansas.

Then the descent into the Historic Town Centre.

The great pity was that we didn't really have time to do more than a drive-through and Dad, with his disequilibrium from my daredevil driving, and his sometimes tenuous balance, didn't feel up to a walk. Sorry, Mom.

It was well after 3 p.m. by the time we left Eureka Springs, and we still hoped to make another 200 miles before nightfall. Needless to say, night fell before the miles were covered.

If the drive into Eureka Springs was twisty, the ride out was contorted, serpentine. Around Green Forest, we began to experience some delays due to what we originally took to be tree clean-up around power lines. Another quick survey, however, made it clear that these folks had been subject to an incredible ice storm. And so had the folks for up to at least 90 miles to the south. The devastation to tree crowns was unbelievable. Yards and ditches were buried in not just branches, but in major limbs as well. Apparently this particular late-January storm wreaked havoc across many states.

The hour was getting late and Dad, who claims never to feel hungry anymore, was angling at a halt to travel. Not that I didn't want to stop, but we were still about 485 miles from Huntsville at this point (around 5:45), and I didn't want to carry this Ozark Daredevil segment into tomorrow. Nightfall, the onset of rain, and the descent of fog, however, altered my view by 6:20. A full Motel 8 in Clinton re-altered that view. We headed back out on the highway. Road markings were very hard to see at the best of times; rain, fog and traffic made it almost impossible in many areas.

Some 75 minutes later, we pulled into Conway and found a room. We were all very tired, somewhat stressed, some were very hungry, and two were in need of a drink. Imagine my chuckle when the hotel receptionist told me we were in a dry county.

This was an exhausting day, and I apologize if this post is somewhat disjointed, too long or too narrative. That said, I think, family and friends, that M&D had a great time today. Eureka Springs is aptly named. Like Sedona out west, this nineteenth century spa town in the Ozark Mountains springs out at you like a beneficent surprise. It's filled with the architectural marvels of folks who came to this area and saw something special; so they created a special world away from the world. M&D saw terrain they haven't really had a chance to take in before. They're tired. That last couple of hours of driving took a lot out of us. But they are both sleeping like babies now. They spoke to Aunt Janet this evening, and they're excited about arriving in Huntsville tomorrow. How knows, maybe they'll be up for a ride on a Saturn 5 rocket while there. I think they're having a good time. That's all that matters this go-round. More tomorrow, internet connections willing. Night, all. I gotta put my head down now. – Gordon

Hieberts, We Have Lift-Off

2009-02-09T22:13:00.004-06:00

February 8th – Winkler, Manitoba to Council Bluffs, IA
Well, the departure day finally arrived; a glorious day despite being hounded by weather forecasts ranging from gloomy to dire for the northern prairies.

That said, the weather was fine as Brother Bob pulled up in front of Ruth's and my house in Winnipeg at 6:30 a.m. He'd driven in to aid the endeavour, and to allow Ruth the opportunity to get to church for choir. I handed Bob a hot homemade latté as he and Ruth caught up, then we loaded his car and set off for Winkler. Jethro Tull's "This Was" the big ol' Lincoln, making for a flashback to the fall of 1969, when I first learned about this manifestation of the English music invasion. Catching up bro-to-bro was a treat, with our conversation ranging much more into philosophical and sociological terrain than would typically be the case. Hardly a word about motorcycles. As we were nearing our destination, my cell phone signaled the arrival of a text message: Brother Ken, in Zhuhai, China, was sending his thoughts and wishes for a good trip.

We arrived at the folks' place about 8:15 to find Mom & Dad looking quite keen to be on the way. The car was loaded and, by 8:45, farewell photos had been taken, hugs had been exchanged, GPS coordinates entered. A final wave to Bob and we were on our way.

On arrival at the U.S. Entry Portal at Pembina, ND, I presented our passports to a lovely, open-faced female Customs officer. What a difference traveling with your parents. Her huge blue eyes, framed by a blonde head of hair, were welcoming and friendly. The questions were few and non-confrontational, as if she had already determined that the three of us posed no threat whatever to anyone.

As we headed out onto I29, Dad, who had until now been a little anxious, broke into the opening lines of "Oh Susanna," asking whether I had brought my banjo. I suggested I might buy one on arrival at Abe & Janet's so "I could come from Alabama" with same. The temperatures continued to rise, the sun shone from a cloudless blue sky, and the folks began to realize that all the anxiety of anticipation and packing was now being swept away by the launch of this little adventure.

Following the folks' satisfying introduction to the culinary delights of Arby's of North Fargo, we headed out again and Dad began to reminisce about his travels through this area in 1947. Despite WWII having been over for two years, the U.S. farm labour pool was still overwhelmed and – quite lterally – undermanned. Canadian custom combine operations had been invited to assist with harvest throughout the grain-belt. Dad left his young bride and, with Dave Friesen and Jake Derksen, set off for western Kansas with a combine loaded on the back of a two-ton truck. Dad remembers the truck's synthetic tires repeatedly bursting due to the heat and weight, and having to perch on the pickup of the combine and rotate the harvester reel as they crawled through a low and narrow bridge.

Dave Friesen has offered Dad half ownership of the combine, but Dad didn't have the capital. They worked a deal whereby Dad would earn 1/3 of the earning by doing all the combining to pay for his half. Remember, this was before operator cabs or air-conditioning on farm equipment. He would sit out in the open, in the sun, the dust and the heat for as much as 16 hours a day.

Dad recalls that they were just about finished their jobs in Kansas after about a month, and were about to head further north when they got a letter from Dave's wife saying that swathing had begun back in Manitoba and that farmers were asking about the team's return to do the harvesting. The sad irony was that, upon returning to Manitoba, the ideal harvesting weather was drowned out by a month of rain, a month when they could have been making big money down on U.S. fields.

We stopped in Watertown (preceded, of course, by a number of other pit stops) for our first refueling (yes, Lawrence Klippenstein of Woodhaven Toyota, we're keeping very careful track of the fuel economy) and a cup of coffee.

The temperatures fluctuated throughout the day, beginning at -13º C, climbing to +4, sliding back down to the freezing point and settling, as we ended the day in Council Bluffs, at about +8 around 6:20 p.m.

We opted for the first hotel we stopped at, got our bags into the room, and headed out in search of our evening meal. The recommended Golden Corral family restaurant clearly reflected its reputation by way of a waiting line as we pulled up, so we opted for the Crocker Barrel a block away. Mom especially seemed to find this a good choice as she made short work of the homestyle chicken special. The spicy catfish wasn't bad either, but the jury is still out on Dad's pork chip.

On returning to the room, the folks got their first look at this blog page and, having read most of it, said nothing about terminating the project. Hence, this post. The challenge, however, was that the Day's Inn router was jamming, and no one was capable of or prepared to fix it. So this post could not be uploaded until Feb. 9th.

For the statistically driven, we managed to put away 617 miles on Day One. More importantly, it appears that M&D are getting into the groove and looking forward to another great day, although The Weather Channel is less enthusiastic about the quality of the weather we may experience as continue south. More to follow, and love to all at home or hitching with us.

Four More Sleeps

2009-02-04T20:28:00.005-06:00

In the vernacular of every child's eager anticipation of some upcoming event – Christmas, a birthday, a holiday, we're four sleeps from departure.

I drove out to Winkler, Manitoba see Mom & Dad for lunch today to make sure we were on track. Mom had Schaubel Zup (bean soup) and Somma (summer potato) borscht on offer. Brother Bob and Sis-in-Law Ronda joined us. The health insurance is in place, the passports are in hand, and Southland Honda did an oil change on the Camry (Greg Ens promised that he and my cousin, Merle, who works there as well, would follow this blog to see if the competitive Japanese metal would be up to the task. LOL). Medications have already been squirreled into the daily dispensers, suitcases await filling.

Mom said she would give the blog address to some of the folks at Lions Manor. She has been a diary-keeper for much longer than most of us realized. Volume after volume has recorded the progress of her life as her four sons grew taller, if not always 'up.' So, this blog will serve as an extension of what has been an integral part of her journey through life.

As their sons, we have stressed that this is the folks' holiday to make into their own. I'll drive as long as they like, stop when they want, stay with Mom's brother and sister-in-law, Abe & Janet Hiebert, in Huntsville as long as they want, then see whatever country they wish for however long they want. The only limiter is the health insurance which, like Cinderella's carriage, turns to mush after February 28th. We have 21 days to make a wonderful memory. Other than I29, what lies ahead? We'll keep you posted.

Pre-Testing My Driving Skills

2009-01-27T12:14:00.011-06:00

It's about 12 days to our planned departure date. We're still waiting on confirmation of Mom & Dad's travel health insurance, because there's no way we can risk the financial gutting of the folks' reserves through an uninsured stay in a U.S. hospital. Brother Bob just heard about a Winkler man whose short stay following a heart attack cost his insurers over $200,000.

Ruth and I are in Palm Springs this week (Jan. 24-31), though not through the good services of United Airlines, which was to have delivered us here on the 24th. For the second consecutive time, UA had equipment problems with our flights. Back in October, we were stuck on a plane in Denver for over two hours while they sorted out an equipment glitch. This past Saturday, we were boarded early as there were two UA flights leaving Winnipeg at the same time. The Chicago flight got away and then they pushed us from the jetway. We sat on the tarmac for about an hour, while the pilot and crew tried to get the right engine to "normalize." Finally, they taxied back to the jetway, cleared us through customs, and advised us that we had been booked for a flight the following morning.

Ruth walked over to the Air Canada desk (we had booked through AC) and got a refund. (Ruth was told that UA seems to be having lots of problems these days.) I got a cab and we headed home. Once there, I checked out our '95 Lexus coupe (in winter storage) and then loaded it up. Within 45 minutes of arriving at home, we were on the road and headed south. We love road-trips. I'm getting to the point where I don't want to travel by air. The difficulties of moving film and cameras, the hassle with shoe and belt removal, the tight quarters, the cattle-moving mentality, the logistical problems of airports and plane maintenance all work against the benefit of faster travel to one's destination. Give me the relatively hassle-free experience of car or motorcycle travel, thank-you.

By 7 p.m., we were in Sioux City, IA, where we stopped and sat down in a fine Panera Bread cafe for a bite to eat. We highly recommend this chain of tasty eateries. However, it was after our departure from Sioux City that we started to encounter some weather. Ruth had started her first driving stint after our Panera stop, but the blowing snow and relative unfamiliarity with the car made it hard for her. I took over and drove until about 3 a.m. Ruth managed to convince me to sleep a bit during "the killing hours" (3-5 a.m.). We parked in a Flying J truck stop shortly after starting down I76, tilted the seats back and crashed.

We got to Denver around 6:30 a.m. Since Panera didn't open until 7 a.m. on Sundays, we carried on to Idaho Springs in the company of hundreds of snowboarders and skiers. After a fine veggie frittata at the Two Brothers Deli, we got back on the dry road under clear, sunny skies.

Unfortunately, conditions changed shortly thereafter. Snow began to fall on the swelling traffic volumes. The Lexus has never been winter driven before, the tires are semi-performance rated, and so the drive over the passes to (and past) Grand Junction were quite stressful.

Happily, conditions improved as we approached Utah and were looking quite good as we merged onto I15, heading south to Las Vegas. That sense of ease lasted about two minutes. A Pontiac Grand Am passed us, pulled into our lane, and almost immediately began slowing quickly as it went through a dip just before going through an underpass. I learned why as we made to pass: the light rain had turned to sleet within a couple of hundred yards, and the roadway was absolutely slick. As we settled in behind the Grand Am, we saw vehicles pulled over in both directions, with people running to the median. A couple of seconds later, we saw a new Acura SUV on its roof, hunched up against a service crossing. I could see the front passenger scrunched in with the airbag deployed. I turned my attention right back to the road and heard Ruth say, "There's another one." Off to our right was a baby-blue Porsche, the driver out and circling his vehicle. Then we passed the signs of his trajectory. He had come from the south, around a slight bend, and lost control. The Porsche just missed the uprights of a large road sign, spun across the median and the line of oncoming traffic to wind up on the west side of the interstate. It was minutes later that I finally came to understand that Ruth had seen the whole episode, and that the Porsche had just missed the Grand Am in front of us.

Happily, the snow stopped a minute or two later, and the rest of our drive was not hampered by precipitation. After stopping in Mesquite, NV for a quick snack of salad and sourdough bread, we drove the rest of the way to Palm Springs. We arrived at 12:30 a.m. We had driven 2,150 miles in a total of 40 hours.

The last bit of road from Barstow, CA to Palm Springs on CA 247 was eerie. The road is blacktop and seems to have just been laid over the desert floor. There are no real shoulders and the contour of the terrain seems not to have been modified to flatten the roadway. Suddenly, this sleep-deprived landscape was assaulted by a blaze of blue and red lights, as several vehicles swept around a curve, driving down and directly towards us. As I pulled over and lowered the window, the police officer advised that an oversized load was coming through and that we were to stay put until it had passed. It was an appropriate other-worldly experience to top off the drive, as a massive structure sitting on a flatbed trailer and accompanied by more flashing vehicles, swept by.

Happily, non of the trip with Mom & Dad should involve this kind of manic driving, so I think I can say with confidence that my road-trip skills have been tested and honed in preparation for the three-week trip.

More to follow.