On the Road

There are so many songs that describe the feeling of the open road…..that sense of pulling away from all that is routine …the freedom of the road…the stuff that movies are made of…. Like Thelma and Louise, and – and – well all the other movies about road trips.
Some crazy lady who doesn’t like to drive came up with this idea to take a 4-generation road trip – going 2000 miles roundtrip. Okay – the crazy lady was me. Okay I like to drive sometimes, but I am just not very good at it- if my accident record were a rap sheet I’d be serving consecutive life sentences.

So, with girl books on CD in tow, at least one suitcase per girl, and everyone’s car comfort bag, we took off. By the fifth hour, just passing Gainesville, a 150 mile trip from our Lakeland home, and after ditching the first CD book on chapter 3 we needed a pick-me- up. Steak dinner.

Things got worse. Arriving at the wrong hotel at 1:30 in the morning I was not about to take any lip from the Hampton Inn clerk. The front door was locked and not a soul around. I rang the night bell three times, politely waiting 10 seconds between each buzz. Finally I called the guy on the phone. He had the nerve to tell me he was standing at the front desk and didn’t see me by the door. I promptly and assertively told him, “You are NOT at the front desk and therefore you CAN’T see me at your front door.” With ever grit of customer service he could impersonate, “I’m walking outside right now, can you see me?” Exasperated, “Listen, buddy, you are NOT walking outside and I DO NOT see you.”

“Ma’am, what was the exit number you took?”
“77 – just like mapquest told me to take.”
“We are exit 57.”
“57?”
“57.”
“I just came from 57.”
Yes Ma’am.”

The next morning, with threat of thunderstorms and tornados on 5 hours of sleep, we cheerfully headed across Alabama to visit my longest standing friend in life – Kathy. Her home and smile were respite enough and with bellies full of home-cooked brunchie we drove through the years and cobwebs of my mind – right into my high school hometown – Hot Springs, Arkansas.

As we rolled around the corner to Knollwood Lodge, the faint rhythms of “Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay” greeted my memory and all my senses floated back to July 1969 and a bikini summer sun and the slap of Lake Hamilton across the slats of the old wooden dock floating amid the waves as the speed boats passed by. We walked into the cabin and cozied under warm quilts and I fancied dreams of yesterday. (Yes it reminds me of the song!)

We rose to a chilly Sunday morning and seized the day! Off to the races. Took my daughter and granddaughter to Oaklawn race track – where I hot-walked the horses every racing season. Rising in the dew-drenched twilight of the morning to enjoy the smells of hay and damp dirt and the touch of velvet nestling nostrils was one of my greatest joys. A thoroughbred is like a royal - an aristocrat. They are powerful muscular creatures of virtue and rare beauty. – one that turns heads and mists the eyes. Being in their inner circle – knowing each by name, by personality, by forte is a privilege peculiar and extraordinary. One I loved above all else in my youth.

We walked the promenade behind bathhouse row, the historic claim to Hot Springs for nearly 2 centuries. (Of much grander stature than the claim of Bill Clinton’s hometown!) We drank from the hot springs bubbling and steaming up from deep within the mountain rock. Fresh – clean and perfect in beauty. Always reminded me of how God spoke the waters to be - a remnant of Eden. Memories and delights yet await me tomorrow.

….oops. forgot to beat up my body for boot camp!!! Must exercise ----but not today.