Flashback

I was cleaning up some old files and came across a bit of a travel document from 10 years ago. I was riding part way to California with Matt (John M) the summer he was headed to Berkley to test the planning waters with some courses there. We had done a trip to Ireland when he graduated from high school, but he was older for this trip, and it was different. I don't seem to be able to find any pictures (a shame), but here is the original commentary I wrote after that trip; remember it was written a decade ago:

Trip with Matt, 1998

Hi. I’ve been on the road for a while and haven’t answered any e-mail for a while. Matt was heading to Berkeley for the summer semester and he asked me if I would drive out with him. I couldn’t take the whole trip, but we did part of it together.

We started with a short drive over to Des Moines where Barbara had the RV for a horse show. We watched one of our horses in an event and then split, with Barbara taking the RV back to CR and Matt and I heading to the southwest. We initially stopped at the Cowboy museum at Kansas City. It’s quite a showplace of western art, plus a few artifacts. The original “End of the Trail” statue is there . . . . much bigger than we had envisioned it. Well worth the stop.

We stopped at Waurika, OK to visit my Mom. She and one of my uncles showed us around 3 places where Matt’s Great Grandparents farmed in that area. I also showed Matt where one of my cousins and I hunted and fished (and pulled a few stupid tricks) during our family’s summer visits. We also visited my grandparents’ and father’s graves before we left. Seven siblings from my mom’s family have regathered in this tiny Oklahoma town later in life . . it’s nice for them all.

We then headed across west Texas. Passed miles and miles of the 6666 ranch, as well as the main ranch house and airport. In Benjamin, TX, a tiny, isolated town, the 2-story jail had been converted into a “neat” private home. We arrived in Spur in the afternoon, a place of 1500 souls where most of my determining characteristics were developed. Stood in front of the Palace Theater where I started by passing out flyers and ended up a projectionist while still in Junior High. At Kally’s garage, the old gasoline pump (with the glass tank on top that you pump the gas into before filling the car tank by gravity) was still there, though no longer used. I had helped my father fill the car from that tank 40 years ago . . . it was quite nostalgic for me all in all. I used to work at the drive-in theater as well in the summer. A farmer has removed most evidence of it, but the concrete pad for the projection booth and snack bar are still there; converted into a basketball court. The theater was 5 miles from Spur. In summer another employee and I would close down at midnight or so and walk another 5 miles to Dickens and eat hamburgers at an all night Shamrock truck stop. Then we would walk 10 miles back to Spur, sometimes greeting the dawn as we waked up the hill back to town.. Really different times! The Shamrock truck stop is now just an empty building and weed-littered lot; it seems so small compared to my memory. Just off this road was soldier’s mound, a small butte used as a defensive position by the calvary in the 1800’s. When 11 or 12 years old I used to disappear from home at sunrise on a Saturday morning, hike Duck Creek for 10 miles or so to the foot of soldier’s mound and pick up arrowheads. The freedom and the expanse of the open sky are something few children in this country get to experience any more . . . it’s a little sad . . Matt was impressed by the uniqueness of this little village; in retrospect, so am I.

As we drove to Slaton, the desert was covered with green and with blooming flowers and cacti as I have never seen ( or at least as I don’t remember). Slaton, Texas, where I graduated from High School, seemed plain in comparison to Spur. The most memorable site for me, the Farmer’s and Merchant’s club (pool hall), was gone, so there wasn’t much to show Matt. It was also perfectly flat which added to the overall impression of drabness. I couldn’t even find my old girl friend’s houses, so we left and drove up the road to Lubbock for the night.

We dove to Ft Summer, NM and visited Wm. Bonne’s grave (Billy the Kid), through a lovely valley to a small village called Puerto de Luna (gate of the moon), where Billy hung out with pals, then into Las Vegas (New Mexico). Las Vegas is quite interesting; a very rich town, then essentially abandoned, and now undergoing somewhat of a rediscovery. We then stopped at a winery in a beautiful little valley. The vineyard owner/field worker/winemaker/proprietor was an engineer from Roswell and had dropped out to work his small acreage and make wines 20 years ago. He greeted us and poured rapid fire tastings of particularly awful wines in devastating sequence (dry red, Muscat, rose, etc.) A particularly obnoxious wine he had named Flying Saucer Wine. The Muscat was OK, so I bought a bottle in gratitude for the entertainment and display of an alternative lifestyle.

We hit Santa Fe in the evening and had dinner at the Shed, a restaurant with a somewhat unique menu just off the old plaza . . . excellent! The next morning we had a walking tour of old Santa Fe with another engineer drop-out, but it was still a great tour. We spent the rest of the day touring on our own, and then drove to Cuba.

Cuba is a tiny town in the middle of nowhere. We used it mainly as a place to sleep that was close to Chaco Canyon National Historic Site (which actually is at nowhere). The motel was operated by a Mexican proprietor who was really a nice man. So nice in fact, that he mowed the tall grass behind this motel so the Navajos who were in town and had a bit too much to drink could sleep that night. They did; in fact they were sleeping right under the window at the back of our room!

Even with this head start, we still had another 2-3 hour drive to the Chaco Canyon site.

Description of Chaco Canyon defies words. Incredible open spaces, stone houses that were up to 5 stories tall and had as many as 500 rooms , Kivas more than 50’ in diameter, dramatic pictographs (you had to climb a bit), and a “sundial” that marked the fall/spring equinox and winter/summer solstice were a few of the remnants of the Anasazi culture that remains there. A great day! Visit if you get the chance, but beware of the road to get there. A pickup is the best option.

We made it to Albuquerque that night. Visited the UNM campus the next morning. Nice. We visited the Maxwell (?) museum of anthropology and lost all track of time. Old town was a collection of tourist traps in the old buildings of the town, but still kind of neat. Matt bought a small metal “Kokopelli” (flute player from a stone pictograph) that now hangs from his rear-view mirror. We also went to see The 5^th Element, a Bruce Willis movie at the Rio-24, a 24-screen movie theater. THX, surround sound, and almost vertical seating all added to the experience; a great way to see a movie!

The next morning we had breakfast together and Matt dropped me off at the airport, and I flew back to Cedar Rapids while he drove on to California. It was a wonderful trip. I think we have arrived at the point where we can interact as friends, and this supersedes (while not eliminating) the parent-child relationship. We talked politics and philosophy and discussed the NPR newscast as we crossed the country, and really never felt the need to artificially fill the time during the long drives. While still my son and in school, this person is now more man than child. He has failings here and there, but he knows also do I. We don’t agree on everything, and that is as it should be. There was a kind of “completeness” at the end of this trip . . a new plateau has been reached.