road trip

How I love that phrase.

Back in my younger days, drop of the hat trips seemed fairly commonplace, especially here in auto-drenched Los Angeles.

Even plane trips to the Bay Area (San Francisco, for all the non-Californian readers) were cheap and plentiful, if you didn't mind the midnight mail run, stand-by only.

Some of my favorite times have been in the context of a sudden journey (too many times involving the desert and some funny snacks), ill-prepared and destination-less. Realizing we had no water in the middle of Joshua Tree at noon was always good for a laugh.

Somehow, never ended up a grisly statistic.

"Just hop in our Citroen and go!" to quote Mr. Mark Riley, former Fall member. Roads-a-plenty, back roads especially, odd small towns, hidden hot springs, scary-assed diners staffed by angry Republicans, fascinating curio shops and thrift stores galore!

Seeing millions of Monarch butterflies with my then pregnant wife in a box canyon near the ocean.

Tracing a UFO coffee shop at Big Rock.

Watching ball lightning attack a power plant in Mississippi.

Giving a ride to the Panther Burns when their van broke down near Fresno.

Seeing a whole warehouse wall full of used irons in Oregon.

Oh, the trips would never end...

Then marriage, jobs you can't blow off, parental responsibility, penny pinching, travel buddy deaths, and the onset of creaking bones and dietary needs, etc. Time marches on, and cold water only hotel rooms don't have that much allure, nor do yahoos in the next camp site.

My oh my.

Then the marriage ends. The kid is older. I've been exercising more. And the job is cool.

Enough of that. Give me land, lots of land and the open country side!

For easter, I'm going to the San Francisco.

More pending.