Day 34: Chupacabras or wild dog?

New Mexico/Arizona Desert:

I made a pact with BaddicusFinch that I would be back in less than six weeks. Well, today is the sixth week, and I'm home.

Now to step back a couple days...I drove twenty miles straight from San Antonio to El Paso then from El Paso to Phoenix. I would've braved the last seven hours to L.A. but for the crazy lightning storm that disrupted traffic flow. I watched over three hours of panoramic laser light show from sunset until dark when the rain came. Heavy, obnoxious, and threatening. I'd no choice but to get off an exit and get lodging somewhere. What a great dramatic end to terrific, life-changing trip.

Did I mention I nearly hit a dog/creature that crossed the highway lighting fast? I released my foot from the gas and screamed like a MF. That was one of my biggest fears, you see, hitting an animal. I don't want to leave roadkill for the buzzards.

Day 33 - I could scale the Alamo

Austin - San Antonio:

I loooove the Lydon B. Johnson Presidential Library in Austin. Very simple, informative...and free! Any guy who brings electricity to Texas is alright by me. The library was sparse in its design and approach. I like that. Since Bush had his grapes yesterday, LBJ had Walter Cronkite today. There was a special exhibit about the newsman who saw an entire century and lived to report about it. Very like.

From Austin I sped to San Antonio before the Alamo closed. I was extremely put out that the famous fort was so tiny. I could scale the walls with a couple of phone books under my feet. Ah, well, I'm sure the folks were puny back then.

I had dinner with an old friend, Alyson, a few hours ago. It's been seven years, and it was great catching up. Time goes by so fast. She's known me since I was fresh out of high school. Now I'm old and tired. Yes, I'm tired. The strain of having to make it home before a certain date is getting to me. Sometimes I feel like I could continue north and drive forever, but a pact is a pact. Six weeks of fun then go home to poor you-know-who and the animals.

I'll be home soon, everyone. I promise not to crash.

Day 32 - Bush's grapes

Houston:

Just had dinner with Jeremy at Nippon Restaurant. He flew there for a two-week assignment that will end this Friday. Good company. Good fun. He even paid for dinner…hopefully not on the company card. Thanks bro.

Today was a bit stressful as I was trying to spread myself too thin. From New Orleans I drove to College Station, TX to see the George Bush Presidential Library. And from there I skedaddled to Houston to visit the Rothko Chapel and make it in time for dinner with Jeremy.

I feel like I need to cram since I’m trying to get home by Monday. My body feels wobbly from stress sometimes. Tomorrow is going to be ambitious as well...Austin for the Lyndon B. Johnson Presidential Library and San Antonio for the Alamo and dinner with Alyson.

Anyway, Bush’s library was pretty nice and simple. Lots of pictures of 41 as a pilot and as a young politician. Not much about the Iraq War though. I think the most interesting part about the Library are the grapes. Yes, my friends, nearly half the exhibit was about winemaking. You even see mannequins in red check shirts manicuring the grape vines. Why is this you ask? Well, I looked over the list of library donors and saw a bunch of winosaurous rex. Weird, that’s all. Barbara Bush looked like Gillian Anderson when she was younger. Must be a nice family...but terrible politicians.

Day 5 - Tilapia, Gumby, and Bonnie

Dallas:

Staying an extra day in Dallas to unwind my muscles and catch up on sleep – which is good because I’m going to be driving 7-8 hours to reach Bartlesville, Oklahoma. Looking forward to seeing Frank Lloyd Wright’s only skyscraper and other fun stuff beside...all payback for my failed attempt to track down Wright’s Dallas Theater Center. It was in a wealthy neighborhood with private parks, and if I did pass his work, trees and hedges obscured it.

Today was still a great day. I lucked out when I set off to find two hard-to-locate places of interest. I set off early in search of a 38-foot robot sculpture which didn’t exactly have an address. I was driving around downtown looking at the sites when I saw this gleaming silver Gumby hanging low, playing the guitar, surrounded by metal birds. Awesome to behold.

The next event was seeking out the gravesite of Bonnie Parker (of Bonnie and Clyde fame). Again this should've been a terrible grave to find since the only Internet direction was...Drive inside, you’ll see a fork. There’s a hedge in the middle. She’s on the other side of the hedge. Thankfully I saw some stragglers drifting about, and I knew I'd found the resting place of one of the most violent criminals that ever was.

Again I have to mention how low-key drivers are in Dallas. No aggressive L.A. drivers. No honking. No road rage. Even I fell into the lull of driving under 40 mph. The locals I’ve met have been very gracious. I drove around residential streets, some of which give the Platinum Triangle of Beverly Hills/Bel Air/Holmby Hills a run for the money, and hung out at a park. And the canopy trees are breathtaking.

On my sister’s suggestion I wandered off to a seafood dive and ordered some tilapia with lemon pepper sauce. Delicious! To top it off, I came across Whole Foods while looking for a movie theater (which never happened). I drank a bottle of carrot juice and bought 3 apples and some olive oil. I feel like I need to swig the oil for my skin since I’m eating pretty lousy.

I put air in my tires…even though there was no gauge so I don’t know if I’m going to crash tomorrow. I also filled up on gas and cleaned my windshield. And I backed into a pole that wasn’t there the last time I checked. Thankfully, my car is elastic so the bumper just popped right up. I love my XB!

I also love the Whataburger logo...reminds me of Wonder Woman...

Day 4 - Band-Aid and my hot transvestite neighbor

Dallas:

Yesterday’s antics really shook me up despite my attempt at calm this entire day. I forgot to mention that the New Mexico cops kept asking me if my husband knew where I was. Hmm. Do you Baddicus? Didn’t I phone you before the dog started sniffing my car?

Anyballoo, as I drove I continued my Clive Owen saga, listened to Radiohead, but still couldn’t get the wobbliness from my legs this morning…that was until I bought wheat bread for .99 at a gas station mini-mart. Now I'll be able to try the Cheez Whiz that Bad bought to spread on pan de sal. How lowbrow and full of preservatives, but I don’t care. I’m on a micro-budget as motel money keeps eating away at my reserves. The tab for 4-6 weeks of roof over my head scares me.

The drive down to Dallas was gorgeous. Rain kindly washed the car, and I couldn’t believe how green things were for the month of June. Drivers aren’t like Californians...very courteous and keep within the speed limit. I imagine my friend Jeremy the Race Car Driver dying over here. Plus, folks still use checkbooks to pay for gas and groceries.

Before getting a place, I decided to visit downtown Dallas and check on the 6th Floor Museum where Lee Harvey Oswald shot JFK (alone?) from the notorious half-moon window. At first I was pissy about the audio guide and the amount of pictures to be tackled in the museum – especially since I paid $13.50! But the audio with eyewitness testimonies fit perfectly with the photographs. A couple of times I actually teared up...until I heard an ornery woman shout, “He didn’t bring the wall down! Reagan did that. Reagan’s a hero to us.”

I walked the infamous grassy knoll and strolled the downtown streets glistening with heat. I saw wondrous buildings with names I did not learn, but I took lots of pictures of them. I love skyscrapers because they remind me of home. They make me forget that I’m not in hicksville anymore where three officers of the law fiddle with an innocent traveler's car for no meaningful reason.

I’m staying two days in Dallas then I’m off to Oklahoma. Ramada Inn is the cheapest today. Across the way from my complex are people who rent by the month. A pretty transvestite in Daisy Dukes said hi to me and I felt better. She reminded me of L.A. Cool.

Day 3 - The mule and Han Solo

Socorro - Roswell - Lubbock:

Yes, after twenty-some years of never getting a ticket, I got one today on U.S. Highway 380, 40 miles east of Roswell. I was stopped at first by one cop who said I was five miles over the speed limit. Then came the question,"Will you sign this document so I can search your vehicle? Do you write better Spanish than English?" after telling him about my plans for a 13-state rampage. I told him I didn't want to sign anything but if he'd like he could check my car for contraband.

Officer R. Potter (No. 2247) used his cute sniff dog while waiting for his cronies to arrive. The dog just sighed like a bored data entry worker and asked to be put back in the car. It was hot as a cowboy movie. All this time, the officer asked me to put my camera and my phone in the car (after I snuck a call to Baddicus).

The first backup to arrive was Native American...I think...I don't want to generalize! (No. 2279.) He joined Potter in checking out my engine, bumper, seat cushion, tires, etc. They also looked under the car. The minority fellow asked if I smoked. I said no, of course. I realized he'd found the turbo lighter that my brother Joe had lent me. Point one against me. Before all this, I was asked if I had any weapons on me...any marijuana, methamphetamine, cocaine, heroine and what have you. Boiling in the sun and thinking that my new tattoo was bleaching and giving me a chola persona didn't help my case.

The second hour, one of them handed me my umbrella. I'm definitely getting a tan on this trip. A third patrol officer, a woman who looked like Dexter's sister but with more meat, pulled up and began searching through my bag...the one that had hundreds of pills good for two months - my prescription meds. That really hit the cacti. One officer held my lighter and another Ziploc of pills. They felt bad for my red face. For the third time they asked if I'd like to sit with the dog in the air conditioned cop car with the AC on. I declined because I wanted to see what they were doing with my things. The woman also looked through my binder with my travel itinerary and my notes.

When it looked like no cocaine was stashed in the car - two hours into the incident - the officers approached me. The woman mentioned my meds and asked me if I'd taken any this morning. I said yes. She asked what they were and when I explained, she said all of the pills I took had a 'May cause drowsiness' warning. She said Officer Potter asked to inspect my car because I looked like I was shaking. So there, they were blaming my meds. I told them that I'd been taking those pills for years and that I'd developed a tolerance and they could call my doctor if they wanted.

I pointed at Potter and said, "You stopped me because I have a California plate and my car is unique." He shrugged. The woman answered, "Well, this is the main route for trafficking. And your explanation about traveling all over the country seemed far fetched."

I asked why and she said, "Well, we've concluded that you're a young woman driving on your own to visit different states. That's not what people usually do - especially a small woman like you."

Geez, there it was. They found nothing and tried to pin erroneous ticks on my meds, then on my temerity to travel on my own. F that! This is a free country. The woman asked me what I did for a living and for the first time in my life said that I was a writer because I didn't want to appear useless. She asked what my book was about and I mentioned vampires. She freaked out and went on and on about how much she loved Twilight. She jotted down my pen name. Surreal as fook!

I must say that those three K-9 cops were the nicest I've ever encountered. They bumshoved the crap out of me by sending me off with a $75 speeding ticket and killing two hours of my driving time. It was almost worth all the sunburn and demoralization when the moreno officer pointed at the thumb-size sticker on the back hatch of my car. "Who's this?" he asked suspiciously, thinking the image was some sort of Reggae ganja-guy. "Are you kidding?" I answered in disbelief. At this point I was pretty disgusted. "That's Han Solo, man!"

"Who's he?"
"Who is he? Star Wars?"
"Oh, I haven't seen the episode."

Anyway, I'm in Texas now. Never thought I'd feel safer in Bush country. Saw lighting and it rained a bit. The earth is very red in the western part of this state. Tomorrow I'm headed to Dallas. Lubbock is interesting. Nice red freeway overpasses. This is where Buddy Holly was born.