We didn't really play the license plate game on our trip per se, but in the 2+ weeks we've been home in Virginia, we've both noticed something what seems to be an inordinate number of personalized license plates.
Now, no offense to those who feel that this is the best venue to express themselves. Wait: I take that back. Really? Dude, get a blog.
I haven't kept a close count...
...but over the course of the past couple of weeks I've counted at least a dozen personalized plates: VA ALUM, WAHOO47, I AM WENDY, URASINR, what have you. Either a lot of people in this area really get a kick out of the personalized license plate, or they're just narcissists.
Today, I hit the laudable Virginia DMV web site, and discovered, in addition to the more than 180 possible license plate styles, that it's only an extra $20 a year to buy yourself a wee billboard for your car. Yay you.
I guess it beats the bumper sticker I saw today on a taxi, proclaiming the driver "Directionally Dysfunctional."
Get hobbies, people.
August 30, 2007
What does your license plate say about you?
August 26, 2007
Wisdom vs. mercy or, life in a college town
So it's Friday evening, and we're walking to have drinks and dinner at a place called Continental Divide (which, if you're ever in town, has no sign outside that says "Continental Divide" but does have a neon sign reading "Get in here." A little precious maybe, but the margaritas are tremendously strong and the food is right tasty. Lisa had marinated-pork tacos the size of your face, and I had a special of red mole-cooked flank steak that was fantastic.)
We're headed west on Main Street in Charlottesville, and a scruffy-looking dude passes us going the other way and says, "Excuse me." He's got longish hair and a beard and is wearing a big Bob Marley T-shirt; he looks a little like Steve Zahn, if Steve Zahn let himself go a little.
I'm ready to say either, "Sorry, man," if he asks for change or defer to Lisa if he asks where something is. But it's neither, because he says this instead (I'm paraphrasing a little here): "I'm taking a survey. If you could only have one, would you rather have wisdom or mercy?"
Then, seeing our bemused looks: "I've been asking a lot of people, and I'm trying to get my own mind around it, wisdom or mercy."
So now we're intrigued. Our guard relaxes a little, and we actually start to think about it for a second. We both say wisdom. Because -- at least this is how I see it -- wisdom would allow one to know when to be merciful. And, as Lisa pointed out later, if you're merciful without being at least a little wise, well, then you're just a pushover.
The guy didn't ask us why, though; he just thanked us and went on his way. And we went on ours, shaking our heads. "You gotta love being in a college town sometimes," Lisa said.
I imagine that, rapidly aging as I now am, there will be plenty of times in the coming nine months that I'll mutter and curse under my breath about students making my wait for lunch longer or whatever. But she's right: You gotta love it sometimes.
August 21, 2007
Klippan-Leksvik-Kviby-Aspelund-Vinstra-
Aneboda-Malm-Kramfors-Hemnes-Sval¨øv
Ah, one of the great joys of moving – the classic right of passage: the obligatory trip to Ikea. Which, in our case, involved a two-hour drive to Northern Virginia on our first relocated Sunday. Clearly, we want to assemble some furniture – and we want it bad. And now that we've bought it, eventually we will.
I kind of hate to admit it, but I love Ikea – the goofy nonsensical product names (though, as Rick points out, sometimes they’re not even trying – the name of the grill pan was “Grilla”), the Swedish meatballs, the traipsing through the showroom on the trek to the self-serve bins while I inevitably fill the cart with a pile of stuff I don’t need – but hey, it’s $2, so why not? And over the years, I’ve gotten pretty good at assembling it all – which I admit gives me an inexplicable sense of accomplishment. And a very nice collection of allen wrenches.
Our trip was my first time traversing the interstates, and I got to see for myself the infestation of the “big box” stores. No matter where we were, you could always buy a pair of flip flops or assorted household goods at a Target, buy a book and get a cup of coffee at a Borders, score a flat screen TV at a Best Buy, or satisfy your hardware needs at a Home Depot or Lowe’s. Yes, you can pass from town to town and never really see any local store, or regional chain if you don't look hard for it – and that’s a damned shame. I’m a believer in the mom-and-pops and specialized one-of-a-kind stores. It breaks my heart -- and makes my skin crawl -- when a boutique or small bar is pushed out by a Cheesecake Factory. For every Macaroni Grill there should be three Iotas -- at least.
But I gotta admit: there’s something comforting about knowing you can always find the familiar, even if it’s unoriginal or impossible to pronounce. My kingdom for a world where the big boxes can live side-by-side with the locals without relying on Chinese mega-factories. Because as much as I will always patronize a local, I really love my Target.
August 20, 2007
Holiday Road...
Rick was FAR more systematic in compiling his road music than I. He clearly spent a lot of time thinking about the songs, the way they’d fit together, and the rhythm of the CDs. I put together a list that referenced any kind of movement – driving, flying, sailing, walking, what have you –- as well as any possible reference to a place. A haphazard approach at best – and one that resulted in a 352-song playlist. Excessive.
A sample, minus the overlap with Rick:
“Woke Up This Morning (Chosen One Mix),” Alabama 3 (a.k.a., the song behind Tony Soprano tooling around Jersey)
“Jessica,” The Allman Brothers (no movement or place, but one of the best road songs ever – thank you, Dickie Betts)
“Say Goodbye to Hollywood,” Billy Joel
“South of the Border (Down Mexico Way),” Chris Isaak
“On the Road Again,” Willie Nelson
“Me & Bobby McGee,” Janis Joplin
“The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down,” The Band
“My Tennessee Mountain Home,” Dolly Parton
“Truckin’,” Grateful Dead
“Ticket to Ride,” The Beatles
“Big River,” Johnny Cash
“Don’t Fence Me In,” David Byrne
“Ramblin’ Man,” Hank Williams
“Tiny Dancer,” Elton John (I know, but come on)
“Take Me With U,” Prince
“Copperhead Road,” Steve Earle
“Hotel Illness,” The Black Crowes
“Goodbye Stranger,” Supertramp
“Wild West,” Joe Jackson
“Can’t Find My Way Home,” Blind Faith
“Highway 61 Revisited,” Bob Dylan
“Thunder Road,” Bruce Springsteen
“Tonight I’ll Be Staying Here With You,” Last Train Home, covering Bob Dylan
“My Ride’s Here,” Bruce Springsteen, covering Warren Zevon
“Train Song,” Mindy Smith
“Where You Lead,” Carole King
“I’m So Bored with the U.S.A.,” The Clash
“Black Cadillac,” Roseanne Cash
“Move On Up,” Curtis Mayfield
“Mississippi,” Sheryl Crow, covering Bob Dylan
“Into the Mystic,” Van Morrison
“The Apartment Song,” Tom Petty
“Take It Easy,” The Eagles
“Midnight Train to Georgia,” Gladys Knight & The Pips
“This is Where You Ain’t,” Glenn Tillbrook
“Highway to Hell,” AC/DC
“Tennessee Plates,” John Hiatt
“That’s Right (You’re Not From Texas),” Lyle Lovett
“2000 Miles,” The Pretenders
“Panama,” Van Halen
“Begin the Begin,” R.E.M.
“King of the Road,” Roger Miller
“I’ll Take You There,” The Staples Singers
“Pony St.,” Elvis Costello
“Ultraviolet (Light My Way,” U2
“Sin City,” Uncle Tupelo, covering the Flying Burrito Brothers
“Luckenbach, Texas,” Waylon Jennings
August 16, 2007
What we listened to on the trip
The short answer to that is: A lot. We covered a lot of ground during those 10 days, and there was a lot of boring scenery outside the windows. So we had Sirius (primarily Outlaw Country, Left of Center, 1st Wave and the '80s channel), we had NPR -- I came to dig Day to Day over the course of the trip, we had Lisa's iPod and its treasure trove of driving songs.
And, of course, we had CDs, from a fantastic Stax Records compilation -- you haven't lived until you listen to the "Theme from Shaft" on a pitch-dark New Mexico highway -- to The Hold Steady. Our friend Chris gave us a really cool disc of L.A.- and Virginia-themed songs. And I played mixmaster too, putting together three CDs of songs about traveling, songs about vehicles and songs that just sound good in the car. They're after the jump.
Volume 1
"Ramblin' on My Mind," Robert Johnson (that's him up there)
"Drive My Car," The Beatles
"Dakota," Stereophonics
"Car Wheels on a Gravel Road," Lucinda Williams
"Utopia Parkway," Fountains of Wayne
"The Distance," Cake
"Radar Gun," The Bottle Rockets
"Can't Get There from Here," R.E.M.
"Drive South," John Hiatt
"Diner," Martin Sexton
"Calling All Friends," Low Stars
"Hot Rod Hotel," Billy Bragg & Wilco
"Bring the Noise," Public Enemy
"One O'Clock Jump," Count Basie Orchestra
"Popity Pop," Charlie Parker
"The Weight," The Band
"Midnight Rider," The Allman Brothers Band
"Now We're Getting Somewhere," Crowded House
"Left of the Dial," The Replacements
Volume 2
"Tear the Roof Off the Sucker (Give Up the Funk)," Parliament
"In the Street," Big Star
"Kiss Me on the Bus," The Replacements
"Car Song," Elastica
"Try a Little Tenderness," Otis Redding
"Nervous Breakthrough," Luscious Jackson
"Ruby Soho," Rancid
"Roadrunner," Modern Lovers
"I'll Fly Away," Allison Krauss and Gillian Welch
"It Ain't Me Babe," Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash
"Get On the Bus," Royal Crescent Mob
"Sister Havana," Urge Overkill
"Lawyers, Guns and Money," Warren Zevon
"Jill Can Drive," Trip Shakespeare
"Fast Cars," Buzzcocks
"Laser Show," Fountains of Wayne
"Let Me Ride," Dr. Dre
"Let's Go for a Ride," Cracker
"The Road Goes on Forever," Robert Earl Keen
"Polyester Bride," Liz Phair
Volume 3
"Come On, Let's Go," Los Lobos
"Green Onions," Booker T & the MGs
"Folsom Prison Blues," Johnny Cash
"Brown Sugar," The Rolling Stones
"Theme from Shaft," Isaac Hayes
"Keep on Moving," Bob Marley
"I'm the Man," Joe Jackson
"Rudie Can't Fail," The Clash
"Pumping On Your Stereo," Supergrass
"Singing in My Sleep," Semisonic
"Time the Avenger," The Pretenders
"Paradise City," Guns n' Roses
"Boom Boom," John Lee Hooker
"Whole Lotta Love," Led Zeppelin
"Runnin' with the Devil," Van Halen
"Sweet Jane," Velvet Underground
"Good-bye to Carolina," Lyle Lovett
"The Long Cut," Uncle Tupelo
"Layla," Derek and the Dominos
August 14, 2007
Home.
Ten days, four hotel rooms (all with curved shower rods, so that was cool), three freeloading stays with family, countless roadside religious icons and porn shops and 3,726 miles (including side trips and driving around places we stopped) after leaving my old home, I'm in my new one.
There are boxes and piles of crap everywhere, but all my clothes are put away and the fridge is stocked with groceries. One of the local weeklies just published its best-of list, so I'm armed with information about how not to look like a tourist.
Yeah, I think I'm gonna like it here.
August 12, 2007
That is one giant cross
Catching up after a few days, following Austin, Oklahoma City, and St. Louis – to be sure to commemorate the photo above. One of the many things I've noticed on our trek across this great land of ours (more on this to come): we love our expressions of faith. Mega-churches with billboards that tell the weather, little churches situated next to cornfields, landscapes that make you exclaim "Oh my God!" (Without disrespectful intentions, of course.)
Then you come across something like this. Rick was keen enough to spot the URL http://www.crossusa.org while I was busy gaping open-mouthed and fumbling for my cell phone to take a picture. According to the site, the Cross Foundation, dedicated to building both faith and family on an ecumenical basis, "has completed a 198 foot Cross at the intersection of Interstates 57 & 70 in Effingham, Illinois. This site is intended to serve as a beacon of hope to the 50,000 travelers estimated to pass the site each day. In addition, the Cross Foundation will promote the values of faith and family through other programs." The cross was built in 2001.
I'm all for anything that gives people hope, makes them happy or gives them another reason to participate in the world around them. I'm probably not in the target demographic, but the Cross Foundation sure did get my attention.
One of the other things I've noticed: we sure do like our racy things. Within 10 miles of the giant cross – a giant highway sign for a XXX adult super store.
August 10, 2007
Snack globally, eat locally
Since we left L.A., we've been undertaking a snack-food survey, sampling several different kinds of Doritos, some rather tasty wasabi Funyuns and Tom's Bacon & Cheddar Fries. None has been bad, but none has been a revelation either. We've also noticed, with a small measure of disappointment, that what you get at a gas station in Barstow is pretty much what you get at a convenience store in Tulsa.
(Although, I should note that the two best chips we've tasted thus far are regional ones: Tim's Luau BBQ, available mostly out West, and Uncle Ray's Kosher Dill, which are from Detroit and we found in Tulsa. Thes were maybe the best we've had, with visible flecks of dill on the chips and a slightly sour, not-too-salty taste like a good pickle. Plus, there are little stories on each bag.)
When we actually get somewhere, though, we've been doing our best to have food that we can't find everywhere else. Other than a couple of expedient and weather-forced fast-food stops on the second day of the trip, we've done a pretty good job of it so far. The only chain meal we've had since then were subs from Jimmy John's one day in Austin.
But we've also had great tamales from a shop half a block off the highway in Pecos, Texas; great Mexican at Jorge's, chicken-fried steak at Threadgill's (pictured above) and ice cream at Amy's in Austin; fantastic tacos at Benito's in Fort Worth -- thanks to Texas Monthly's "The Greatest Tacos Ever Sold"; and some fine Greek food from Zorba's in OKC.
Thursday night, in The Hill neighborhood of St. Louis, we poked our heads into a couple of delicious-looking Italian restaurants before settling into some great, great tapas at Modesto. Everything we tried was delicious, but the two highlights were a dish of cured tuna with smoky roasted peppers, tomatoes and cucumbers and bacon-wrapped, Cabrales cheese-stuffed dates that were just about perfectly balanced.
We're only a couple stops from home now. The last two days:
Wednesday: 400 miles
Route: Straight up I-35 from Austin to Oklahoma City.
Time: 7 hours and change
Consumed: In addition to some of the stuff mentioned above, we stopped at Robertson's Hams just over the Oklahoma-Texas border. Picked up a little gift for our host for the night (hi Lisa!) and some pretty good, all-natural beef jerky.
Thursday: Just shy of 500 miles
Route: I-44 from OKC to St. Louis.
Time: 8 1/2 hours
Consumed: Those Uncle Ray's chips, a solid BLT and grilled ham & cheese at Hood's Truck Stop in Bois d'Arc, Mo., and whole bunch of samples from a Wisconsin cheese outlet shop in Lebanon, Mo. We also bought some stuff there, and had a few white cheddar curds flavored with garlic and dill. Good food day.
August 8, 2007
Bats!
OK, so the photo above is not the best one you'll ever see, even on this blog. But trust me when I tell you that the dark blotches on the underside of the Congress Avenue bridge in Austin are a few of the million-plus Mexican freetail bats that reside there and make nightly pilgrimages out from under the span to search for food.
This image gives you an idea of what we, along with several hundred other people on top of and beneath the bridge, looked at Tuesday night. It wasn't quite as pretty as that, but it was really pretty darn cool.
We might have been better off on top of the bridge, watching the bats come out below us. But we chose the low angle, and a little after 9 p.m., watched as the little creatures began to stream out from their resting places below the bridge. Though they were at times tough to see against an already dark sky, eventually we got ourselves under a streetlamp and looked up to see a constant stream of wings flitting by, turning the air between the lamp and our eyes a hazy brown as they zipped past.
My description, like my picture, doesn't do the sight justice: It really is something to behold, like the transition in an old Batman cartoon come to life. If ever you find yourself in Austin during the summer, it should be high on the to-do list.
All right, all right, all right
Those of you who know us know that between the two of us, we're probably well into the triple digits in viewing Dazed and Confused. Heck, Lisa even got me a tie-in book as a gift once.
And if you know Dazed and Confused, you will doubtless recognize the sign above as that of Austin's Top Notch, the drive-in where Mike sorts through jalapeno burgers and soggy fries and Wooderson tries to get Cynthia to ditch the two geeks she's in the car with and join him on the way to the party at the moon tower.
Alas, when we arrived there Monday night, it was already closed (although we were stuffed with Mexican food and Amy's ice cream, so maybe that's not such a bad thing). But our time here wouldn't have been complete without a pilgrimage.
August 6, 2007
In praise of Jo’s
Anyone who's known me for any length of time (i.e., more than 10 minutes) is aware that I am utterly enamored of Austin, Texas. I am a pretender; I've only been here four times (including now). I've been a pilgrim to South by Southwest – the film festival too. I've had a Texas Monthly subscription for more than seven years. There are Lyndon Johnson White House tapes on my iPod. And occasionally, I dream about Jo's on South Congress Avenue.
I get why people want to keep Austin weird, and agree it's important to take a stand against the hipster doofusication of truly cool neighborhoods. South Congress has changed a good deal even since the first time I came here – some for better, some for worse (unless I'm mistaken, it looks like Just Guns across the street is now a pet store specializing in tropical fish), but it remains, for me anyway, one of those places where you just want to hang out.
Jo's is a coffee stand/shack just up the street from the Austin Motel, across from the Continental Club and near the shop where I just bought my nephew a cowboy guitar. Right now, three umbrellas covered in what looks like hot pink hula skirts shade the sidewalk tables. Sit here long enough at least a good portion of Austin passes by. Don't let the fact that Rachael Ray featured it put you off.
To catch up:
Sunday mileage: About 560
Route: 285 South from Roswell, N.M. to Fort Stockton, Texas, then I-10 East to Austin
Time: About eight hours. The parts of West Texas where the speed limit is 80 ROCK.
Consumed: Some incredible pork and red chile tamales from La Nortena in Pecos, Texas; Wasabi Funyuns (I’d eat these every day, but no one would want me to come near them); another Doritos Collisions flavor combination: zesty taco and chipotle ranch (our verdict: save your money), and a delicious homemade dinner with family in Austin who were kind enough to welcome this interloper. Thank you. Couldn't be more delighted to be here.
… And then stalked by lightning
Saturday morning we added an additional 200 miles to the trip by going back to the Grand Canyon to see it in daylight. Totally worth it – I get why Bobby and Cindy wanted to get away from their annoying family and wander around by themselves. I am a sucker for all things cheesy about America, but the Grand Canyon really is so superlative that after a while you're just dumbstruck. "Wow." "Cool." "That is one big hole."
Tight on time, we abandoned the original plan to hit the Grand Canyon Skywalk. A bummer, but now we have an excuse to go back. We also had to skip Santa Fe, so no turquoise jewelry or Georgia O'Keeffe reprints for everyone this Christmas, I'm afraid.
Skies were ominous for a good part of Saturday, and as we headed down mile after mile of road toward Albuquerque, we watched the lightning show. Cool from a distance, but heading into that dark sky, oppressive cloud cover and lightning was like riding into Hades. Both Midwesterners, we grew up with storms, but neither of us had ever experienced anything like this. After a massive flash of lightning and instantaneous clap of teeth-rattling thunder right over us at an Albuquerque gas station, there is now security video of me practically ducking and covering.
The storm shook us up a bit, but on a truly dark and deserted road to Roswell that would've made Hank Williams proud, we encountered an incredible night sky with a canopy of stars that practically forced us to pull over to the side of the road to look. My fear of alien abduction or kidnap by escaped convicts kept us in the car, though. Who wants to be a cautionary tale?
Eternal gratitude to the lovely people at the Roswell La Quinta Inn for such a pleasant stay.
Saturday Miles: 710
Route: Flagstaff to the Grand Canyon, through Albuquerque, taking refuge in Roswell.
Time: Door to door, 15 hours, give or take.
Foodstuffs: Del Taco, McDonald's salads (hey, it's green and it was raining), Tim's Luau BBQ potato chips, nacho cheese Bugles.
Stalked by rainbows...
And jet lag (for me, anyway). Spent our first day of driving making some real headway through Arizona, stopping in Kingman, with its British food shop. Have to wonder how big a market there is for black pudding in Kingman, but who doesn't like a lovely Aero or Flake bar?
Headed through Flagstaff and up to La Gorge Grande. En route, we look up and find… rainbows. At least two, if not more, which stayed with us for a good 10 miles. An omen? A sign of luck? An arrow pointing the way toward a winning lottery ticket?
Now, three days later and after a little shut-eye, it seems far less bizarre and stalker-ish, so perhaps the real lesson of this is that I tend to hallucinate a little bit on the road.
We made it to the Grand Canyon as the light was fading – everything covered by the hazy purple glow of not-quite half light. Extraordinary. Pics to come -- if they come out alright.
August 4, 2007
Beginning of a great adventure, Day 1
embarked on what we hope will be the first of many snack-food tastings during our journey east. Item No. 1 was Doritos Collisions Hot Wings/Blue Cheese chips. This is a new concept, with two flavors in one bag, and while we didn't dislike either individual flavor or the combo, it won't become a habit.
August 1, 2007
Let's light this candle
I've always wanted to be a free spirit – a devil-may-care, hears-only-the-call-of-the
As a newbie to the cross-country trip and a believer in the Springsteen-fueled open-road-as-savior, redemption-beneath-this-dirty-hood poem, I'm buying in. In the hopes of not becoming Clark W. Griswold, I will not keep one eye on the clock hoping to beat the estimated drive time on Mapquest. I will embrace road snacks, sample a few of Texas's 63 greatest tacos, decide which state has the worst drivers, and take a step toward satisfying the wanderlust that I sometimes wish I lived by.
Mostly, though, I'm ready to start this adventure. For months Rick and I have been jaunting back and forth across the country, counting days between visits, scouring travel web sites for the best fares, and racking up frequent flyer miles. And for months we've been talking about this trip – this big move. Up to now, time together has meant a few blessed uninterrupted days absent concerns about work, then returning to the place where my job is and my stuff lives, a couple of hours away from most of my friends. This time, when we get back, I'm – we’re – coming home.
Rick's leaving Los Angeles, even for a set duration, is a big deal. Even with the things he says he won't miss, it's a hard place not to love – and it will be tough to be away from his amazing friends. Reading his posts the past couple of days, I realize that I have no tearful goodbyes. Sure, I’ll miss being able to wander around the house wearing embarrassing T-shirts and having unbrushed teeth, and regularly staying at the office until 8 pm. But these are small sacrifices. What I’ve really got is just a hopeful hello. And a promise to come back.
My road songs playlist is assembled; my boarding pass is printed.
In the words of Mercury astronaut Alan Shepard in The Right Stuff (played by Scott Glenn, who incidentally, I'm ashamed to admit, rocks a mesh T-shirt in Urban Cowboy), let's light this candle.
It's time to hit the road.
Continued ...
