Suffering from anxiety at the reality of leaving on a two-week road trip across the southern United States without Caroline, I managed to peel away from her to go pick up Aunt Eleanor and Grandpa Herbert for a journey to Florida. Our departure, scheduled at 7:00 a.m., shifts to 8:15 with added delays due to the heavy traffic conspiring against us as we flee Phoenix during rush hour.
We leave the valley behind, driving U.S. Route 60 east. Our goal is to get to a point 560 miles down the road, no mean feat when traveling with an 84-year-old grandfather and a 93-year-old great aunt. After about an hour of traffic, we are passing the Superstition Mountains at the edge of Mesa into the wilderness. Through Superior onwards through Globe, we go eastward until making Safford.
It’s lunchtime. After turning south on the U.S. 191, we pull over for a sort of tailgate meal. We are in a mini-van, so we open the two rear side doors and start our picnic – no tailgate on mini-vans (yet). The day is nice, maybe a bit cold for my two passengers. Matter of fact, Mt. Graham which we are parked next to with its peaks shrouded in clouds, is snow-capped.
Factoid about the U.S. 191: it runs from Douglas, Arizona, to Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming for 1,465 miles and then from the north side of Yellowstone to Loring, Montana, for another 440 miles. Should you want to continue your minor road tour from the Mexican border into Canada, you can drive from Loring to La Loche in Saskatchewan, Canada, by continuing north for another 614 miles. Add in the 81 miles to drive through Yellowstone, and you’ll be able to see 2,600 miles or 4,184 km of landscape across the northern part of this continent.
Back on the 60, we enjoy the last minutes of this semi-scenic road before it delivers us to the abomination called Interstate 10. The next approximately 450 miles will be on this personality-less stretch of convenience, which helps Texas earn its poor reputation with cross-country drivers.
Our first day continues uneventfully. Grandpa complains about the medications he has to take every 3 or 4 hours, including the one that forces him to jump from the car at nearly every rest stop we encounter as he has to run for the John (his words).
We enter New Mexico, and I am reminded that Steins is just up the road.
This is an obligatory sightseeing stop. Auntie stays in the car while Grandpa and I step up the creaky old wooden steps into an old mercantile that should be long gone were it not for the family that cares for the remnants of this piece of old west history.
The inside of the store is a sight to see, and one that anyone passing this way should try and experience. Plan accordingly, as they open at odd hours and seem to close early. Well, that’s what we have encountered on previous visits. We were lucky on this trip, as, although the door was locked, the owner’s daughter came over and opened up for us. I point Grandpa’s attention to a couple of dollar bills left by myself and Caroline while coming through on previous visits. To commemorate today’s moment, I leave a dollar noting our visit here on March 1, 2005.
Lordsburg came and just as quickly faded into the distance. The same goes for Deming and Las Cruces. Before we know it, we have passed through the entirety of New Mexico, with Texas looming on the horizon. It’s late afternoon as we encounter the Lone Star State.
El Paso at rush hour: who planned our departure for a Tuesday and who would have thought El Paso has traffic congestion? After a day of leisurely driving across the Desert Southwest, a traffic jam was the last thing I wanted to be a part of. It takes an hour to pass through the city and get beyond two accidents that have snarled traffic. The hour ahead of schedule we gained after departing later than hoped for in the early morning has been lost.
Since the sunset out here on the western side of Texas, Grandpa would occasionally complain about how dark it is. As time passed, his comments became more frequent: “Why are there no highway lights out here?” Well, there’s nothing out here, and that’s the way it is on most roads between cities and towns across America, was my answer. And again, “Well, it sure is dark out here!” Relax, Grandpa, maybe the moon will come up soon and brighten the picture.
“Check out the stars!” I suggest. When it’s this dark, the Milky Way really lights up the sky. He counters with, “I can’t see any stars; it’s too dark.” This goes on for over an hour. Reaching Van Horn, Texas, two hours after escaping El Paso, I pull into our hotel to ask about somewhere to eat this late. Grandpa needs the facilities, so he gets out of the car with me. Hah, hey, Grandpa, take off your sunglasses! “Ah, no wonder it’s been so dark, damn it, why didn’t you tell me they were on?” I just did.
We check into the Days Inn on the east side of town. You can almost see the east end from the west end. Before going to our rooms we head across the street for dinner at the Sands Motel and Restaurant. Auntie has some soup, Grandpa tries the steak and french fries, while I go for a combination Mexican plate. The service was great, but the food was just ok.
Back at our hotel, I’m figuring we’ll all pass out and sleep well into the morning. Older people don’t always act the way we younger people think they will, though. Auntie is tucked away in the room next to us. She reassures me she has it all under control. Should I have known better? No, I don’t have the experience that tells me how to deal with situations created by people approaching 100 years old.
I know now that I should have set up the heater, taken the blanket off the second bed, added it to the one she would sleep in, and given her my sweater. I should have written down our room number and invited her into our room next to hers so that in the morning, she wouldn’t be under the impression we were somewhere far away. Well, now I know.
As for Grandpa, this is a tragic comedy unfolding. Grandpa, you are sure you don’t mind that I snore? “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be right asleep, and it won’t bother me one bit.” 3:30 in the morning, I’m woken by, “Oh John, did I wake you?” I don’t think so; I just woke up; how are you doing? “YOU CALL THAT SNORING? THAT’S A DEATH RATTLE! How does Caroline sleep with you? I’ve not been to sleep yet!” Yeah, well, I told you, I snore.