Road Trip With Mom - Again (Dad Gets To Go Too)

Chase down your passion like it's the last bus of the night. 

Terri Guillemets

Once upon a time, I wanted to live in New York City. College graduation upon me in a few months, I wasn't interested in the secondary English teacher positions I'd trained for. I wanted adventure. I wanted to see the world. I considered becoming a flight attendant hoping for a home base in New York City or London or Paris.

I didn't have the guts. I got married instead.

After a quick perusal of 35 years of marriage, had I known how many guts it would require to maintain a relationship this long, traveling the world would have been a much easier road. Not that I regret the marriage -- just that I regret not knowing when I was young how much passion and determination I held or how to unleash it.

I've visited NYC  a few times since then. Even lived within a 55 minute Sunday afternoon drive to Midtown for a short period. Ten years ago, my husband and I took our three boys there for a few days. This past weekend, we went back with our youngest son, the Bama boy. He got to stay.

Living vicariously through my children has offered more than many an adventure in my lifetime. I've shared quite a few road trips with those boys in the course of this blog's evolution. From The Field of Dreams to College Station to Flagstaff to Tuscaloosa to Yellowstone and all places in between never did I expect to add New York City to the list. But there we were, just hanging out in the city.

 

Me and Ian. Husband taking the photo. All fully satiated after a delectable Italian dinner. Only the beginning of our culinary pursuit which included Ian's restaurant selections of some of his favorite chefs.  David Chang's Momofuku Noodle Bar. Michael White's Osteria Morini. L'Ecole at the International Culinary Center.

Of course we had to visit Katz's and moan like Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally. Bob and I split a Reuben. Good thing. It may have only been a sandwich, but it was a big sandwich.

The mother of three boys never gets to go anywhere that a baseball game can't be found. Not quite certain what you call what we ate at Yankee Stadium. Ball park fare. BTW,  the cost of three beers equals a case in real life. Ian got to see his team, the Twins, beat the Yankees. I so liked the old Yankee stadium better. Much more character.

It wasn't all food, sports, and drink. We did add some culture, taking in the Museum of Modern Art.

Mondrian

Frida Kahlo

Cezanne

Rousseau

Andy Warhol

Kandinsky

Jackson Pollack

Warhol

Uh?
(Still searching for the artist)

Dryer Lint?  Robert Morris

Wesselmann Collage

Monet

Diego Rivera

Vincent One Ear

Monet's Water Lillies

We took a stroll through Central Park

And what would a visit to New York be without elbowing one's way through the crowds at Times Square.

Which then prompted a visit to Ipanema in Little Brazil for one of these little tasty treats.

A Caipirinha. Had to have two.

We are now Subway gurus. We can sweat with the best while waiting in the tunnels. Noticed how the Bowery's stop is not quite as nice as those up in Midtown.

Which brings us to the end of this tale and the reason for the Road Trip.

This is the view from that youngest son's new dorm room.

 The New World Trade Center

 Which goes with his new uniform.

From Austin to Alabama to New York City.

Chef Ian at the Culinary Center.
(I don't think they have as good of a football team as the University of Alabama, Ian.)

But...

Passion Pursued 
Guts Engaged
Adventure On
Go!

New York City. Skyscrapers and Everything. 
Stevie Wonder

Cruising Down the Road

Too often travel, instead of broadening the mind, merely lengthens the
conversation.

Elizabeth Drew

Three hundred sixty-eight miles. 368 miles. Last week, after a plane ride to Denver, I had that many miles to drive to see middle son in his summer habitat. Sometimes, when I pause to ponder what I've planned for myself, I get a few extra thumps in my heartbeat. A 'what were you thinking?' thump.

I remind myself that often I drove 3000 miles, with three young boys in tow. (My husband flew in as he didn't have as much time off. Gave us more time with the grandparents and side trips.) But driving alone in the wilderness is something different for me. Adding to those tangled thoughts, if you recall, after the trip my husband and I took in the spring, I no longer want adventure. I want to rotiss, on a beach, with a book. For days.

Once I got behind the wheel and started driving, all those ridiculous thoughts went away.

But first, the night I arrived in Denver, I met with a gathered family for dinner at a favorite downtown restaurant.

I admired the lawn chairs in my brother's backyard. I want them.Come morning, I was on the road -- all the way to Lander, Wyoming and beyond. It had been some time since I'd been to Wyoming. In my earlier life, I'd never found Wyoming particularly pretty. (Of course, when I'd visited in times past, I hadn't yet been to West Texas.)

Travel at any age is certainly beneficial and eye opening, but just like re-reading a book read 20 or 30 years before, at 54 I hold a complete and different perspective.

On this adventure, I found wonder in the ever changing scenery. Around every curve the terrain reshaped from the size of the hill or mountain to the color of the soil, the plant life. I found it beautiful. Geology suddenly seemed a fascinating study.

A sight on the road was I, I'm certain. My right hand alternated between holding my little tape recorder to my lips and my camera out the window. (I lost my camera a few weeks ago and had to buy a new one. So you'll have to bear with me getting to know how to use it, one handed.)
I often went 15 minutes or more before a car came from the other direction. Later, listening to the tapes I made, I described the scenery as a different kind of no where. And then...


I came to a place on that empty highway where a car was stopped in front of me. I stopped, thinking they had a car problem or perhaps an animal on the road before them. But no, It was a stop light. Right out there in the middle of a different kind of no where. A stop light. A red stop light. I sat behind the car ahead for about ten minutes and all I could think of was the movie Blazing Saddles. You might recall the part where the bad guys came to a toll booth in the middle of the desert. The leader yelled out, "Someone go back to town and get a shitload of dimes."

Light turned green and after six hours of listening to NPR and singing loudly to old rock and roll on the radio, I drove into yet another new valley and there I found...

... my son.He had washed the sheets and cleaned the bathroom for mom's visit. Even did the dishes. As I sat on his front porch peering through the Aspen trees, it was most comforting to see him in his new habitat. (Side note for new readers - Jordan is working for the Nature Conservancy this summer on a 3000 acre ranch.)

I shared with Jord all my reading material and maps. He was so excited to be on a road trip with mom, once again.

Next day, we began our adventure. Didn't have a particular plan except a night scheduled in Yellowstone and one in Jackson Hole.
Jordan showed me Red Canyon Ranch, a 30000 acre ranch owned by the Nature Conservancy. A couple of his buddies work here.

Once again, the changing terrain fascinated me. I've been reading about hot springs in Wyoming and Montana for some time. The main character in my novel in progress has a rather sensuous encounter at a hot spring. I'd had difficulty picturing the scene in my head. No more.

The visit to the state park at Thermopolis satisfied that vision. We took in a 20 minute soak at the park's free pool. Very hot. Lots of people seeking a healing of their weary bones. Me included.

Our body aches healed in the warm waters, we drove on to Cody.
And our hotel.

Oh, wait.
This was our hotel.

While Jordan took a nap and enjoyed having WIFI and cable TV (not available in his cabin) I walked down the road to take in the Buffalo Bill Historical Center. Fascinating find - five museums in one. I was interested in the Plains Indian museum, but was most surprised to discover the western art museum showcasing the works of Charles Russell and Frederic Remington, among others.
The Yellowstone sections had displays explaining the geothermal activity as well as the varied wildlife. I took a few photos of the stuffed animals just in case we didn't see any real ones in Yellowstone.

That way we could say we saw wildlife even if we didn't.

Little did we know...

TO BE CONTINUED