On the Road Again . . . Day 3

Washington City, UT. This morning we left at 6:48 and headed up into the Rockies. Awesome! Gorgeous! Breath-taking! Coming out of the Eisenhower Tunnel you see a spectacular view of the snow capped peaks. If only I had asked Alex to pull over so I could take a shot to share with you. Ah well. The going was very slow but the scenery is so wonderful that I didn't really care. And without the assistance of little Tommy we found a mountain Starbucks -- in fact there was a whole shitload of them. These mountain people really like their over-priced coffee.

About the incident from yesterday. Never happened. Well, it never happened to Alex. It did happen to me and Karen about 35 or 40 years ago. Of course there were no ATM's then so we had to get the cash from Karen's mom and take it back to inbred Jed in BFE. And the asshole did want to put me in the clink.

I'm writing this at 4:30 AM in the bathroom so I don't wake up Al, who is probably awake anyway.

We did have one semi-interesting personal encounter of a sort. We discovered Illinois Man. He's driving a shitty-looking white midsized car of some kind. It's maybe fifteen years old. You'll recognize it by the crap stuffed in in the seats so high the back window is completely obstructed. The passenger's seat is likewise full of shit. And it's clearly junk, not well packed personal possessions. We saw him Tuesday for the first time. We made our snide remarks and forgot about him. Until Wednesday when Alex said "We passed that guy yesterday." Mildly interesting when you're bored to death. After stopping at Starbucks and driving for a while, guess who? Illinois Man. Did I mention he still had on the same shit-eating green tee shirt? He did. Well, we passed him two more times in two more states. On our final descent into Southern Utah I saw a shitty white midsized car on the side of the road with the driver looking under the hood. Illinois Man? I hope not; the man needs to get where he is going.

The weather was cloudy all day but when we checked in at the Holiday Inn Express (Thanks, Chris.) it was sunny, breezy and about 82 degrees. Perfect. Wish I could package this. I feel great.

Deep Thoughts. I know you're asking yourself "Where do these deep thoughts come from, Jim?" Well, thanks to my illnesses I can't sleep more than 4-5 hours and I don't want to wake my traveling partner, so I think deep thoughts (imagine scary organ music).

The first of which is a follow up to yesterday about powerful men who think they can get away with anything. It's this: These men have chosen to lead DELIBERATELY PUBLIC lives. . . and they still think they won't get caught. Does the President of the United States think he can get away with sexual indiscretions and then get away with lying about it? (And I like Bill Clinton.) I guess the Ohio State football coach thinks it's worth risking his career to keep nitwits who trade memorabilia for tattoos eligible to play in a damn college football game. I guess now he knows the answer.

But I digress. Today's deep thoughts are about movies. What's the difference between your Favorite Movie and the Best Movie you've ever seen? Probably that your Favorite Movie is the movie you enjoy watching the most because something about it strikes a chord with you; whereas, the Best Movie you've ever seen probably has the best writing, acting, casting, direction, music, production design and so forth. In my case they are the same movie: the so-called Godfather Saga. That's The Godfather and The Godfather Part II played in chronological order. I love just about everything about these movies. What makes them the Best Movies I ever seen are all the things I've just enumerated, but most of all it's the characters. They are so authentic, particularly the supporting roles. Here's one: Don Fanucci, the Black Hand. Remember his white suit, his tilted fedora, his pinkie ring, his coat draped over his shoulders and his regal wave? I look at him and I believe that is the Black Hand, not an actor playing a role. There are dozens more. And the production design! Was Vito's tomato garden the perfect set for an old Italian man? The music! Let's not forget the dramatic tension between despising these men as vicious killers and thieves and admiring them as fathers and men of unshakable values.

Well, you get the point. So why is it also my favorite? What strikes a chord? I feel so Italian when I watch it. It makes me feel special as an Italian. Sometimes a movie is so good that you like it just because it is good.

And finally . . . Tomorrow (actually today) we hit LALA land. Alex can't wait to get there. Me, I have mixed feelings. I'm excited for her . . . and for me. But I dread getting on that plane back to the motor city.

Thanks for taking the tine to read this.