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.

On the Road Again . . .

DES MOINES, IA. Yet another road trip. This time my youngest daughter Alex and I are off to Cerritos, Cali. Quite a bit different from my last road trip out west in 2007. That was round trip, alone and for three weeks. This time I am helping Alex drive to her new home and new job in Cali. Then I'm flying back from LAX after a few days of sun and fun. Actually Alex and I have done this before -- at least as far as Boulder. Then six weeks later I flew to Denver; hopped off the plans; and jumped in Alex's car and were off to Michigan. That was a killer. I swore "Never again." So here I am again. One major difference is that Alex just bought a Hyundai Tucson which is many times more comfortable that her old Jetta with 115,000 miles on it.

It's a big stretch to come up with something interesting, entertaining or, maybe, funny. A good place to start is always something that went wrong. For example, the top thing on my list for the trip was some new prescription sunglasses. My current ones are scratched and not that effective. First I tried Pearle Vision who wanted $480 for one pair of polarized sunglasses. No way. On to Lenscrafters. Amazingly that had a 50% off sale going on. What a shock! They have more 50% off sales than Diamond Jim's Whoopee Emporium. So I gave the guy my prescription (which I noticed had been written in 2007) and in an hour they were ready . . . and at half the price! Amazing. I did notice that I couldn't see all that well, but that was because I was inside. Unfortunately it didn't take long to realize that this was not my prescription. So I took them back for a comparison to my current glasses and . . . (drum roll) they were completely different prescriptions. I needed a written prescription for them to make me some new ones. I had no time to get to my doctor before we left on the road trip. What to do? Well, I told this story to M and she asked why I didn't get their doctor to do an eye test on me. I don;t know. Because it was too obvious. Because my head is too far up my ass? And thus, no new sunglasses.

Meanwhile our drive from Michigan to Des Moines was marred only by the fact that our attempt to buy a delicious breakfast at McDonald's required three stops and almost an hour. After unsuccessful stops in Marshall, Michigan (line was too long)and Albion, Michigan (too closed), we spent a half an hour in Kalamazoo waiting for our wonderful food. No more McDonald's.

We crossed the Mississippi at Quad cities and stopped just on the other side at the Primary Iowa Welcome Center. Which of course made me wonder what the secondary welcome center might be. I took some photos of the mighty Mississippi but they are shit, so no picturesque shots to accompany this blog. As we continued our initial incursion into Iowa we learned a couple of interesting facts about Iowa's rest stops: they apparently don't know what primary means because their was a second Primary Iowa Welcome Center about ten miles in and in Davenport their are two rest stops that are two miles apart. And it is so exhausting to drive that extra two miles that the second one is for parking and sleeping only.

Deep Thoughts. (Remember the segment on the original SNL with that name?) For many many I’ve had the same recurring daydream while I’m driving on the highway. I’m driving with a guy who has been transported from the mid-19th century to my car. He has never seen a car or a highway and of course has never traveled at eighty miles an hours. My job is to explain where he is an what our time – which is of course the future to him – is like and what a car is and so forth. After a while I drift into the opposite direction and I am back in the mid-19th century but with my life’s worth of knowledge and experience from the 21st century. I wonder how much an average guy like me can help move technology and society forward then. Vat does zis mean? Maybe I want to be a time traveler. I sure as hell whole like to go back before I got sick and try it again.

And finally. This trip allows me the great privilege and pleasure of spending one on one time with Alex. Even though we talk every little – so little that many people find it strange – I enjoy the opportunity tremendously. Alex is a wonderful person. Even though she is soft spoken and a real rule-follower, she is gutsy as hell and tough and resilient. I think she will love California and will do great there.

As always, thanks for reading.

Day 2 - The Rolling Hills

I rolled trough the rolling hills of Kentucky and the mountains of Tennessee with ease. I saw a lot of brown grass and leave-less trees. Then I saw more of the same. But the drive had only one small event of note. Shaky Old Bitch re-emerged. I was cruising at my usual 82 mph(a nice round number I think)in the fast lane a and guy in a shitty little CR-V pulls ahead of me on the right but he is blocked by a trunk. So he wanted to get over and I didn't let him in. As I passed he pulled over and rode my bumper and flashed his lights. Shazam! Road rage kicked in. After we cleared the truck I started to chase him. I have no idea how or what I was going to do about it, but who said I was rational. - There's a happy ending because I snapped out of my trace and let him go, but what the hell is with me. I'm so mellow - to the point of being catatonic usually. It obviously has something to do with being older and feeling invincible. Stupid.

I arrived in 'Bamy at my long, long time friends Greg and Linda. (By now you know I never use real names. Just feels creepy to to so.) They just moved into their new home a week ago. For the fourth or fifth time I was they first house guest. They barely have furniture but the were as gracious and welcoming as they have been my entire life. My friendship with Greg goes back to fourth grade and I've known Linda for more than 35 years. They have been married 39 years (how the hell do you do that?) and they have probably moved that many times. Must be the key to a successful marriage -- just keep moving.

I told them about my ceaseless attraction and love for the Lovey M (a pseudonym of course) and Linda told me, correctly, that it won't work. But I am not deterred and my ever present rebelliousness makes me all the more determined to make it work. M is just too fascinating and good at heart to let go. I worked soooo hard to find her. Then we reminisced for hours. Why do memories seem much fun and laughable as you get older. I think I know. Don't you?

What would you do if you had the power of God for one minute? My real answer is to eliminate ignorance, but that's boring. My real, real answer is to become Czar of Television Commercials. I would have the complete power to bring the president of the company whose product is advertised on TV right after the commercial. If the commercial said "Up to 50% off . . . and more!" I would say "What does that mean"? Are you giving things away. If it's up to 50% and it's also more, how the fuck much is it? If the commercial said "Three easy payments of $19.95" I'd asked how much that was. I'd ask if they ever considered that they might be tricking people into thinking that $19.95 was the price. If they said " An $80 value, yours for $14.99" I'd ask who had paid $80 dollars for it? And if they added "If you order in the next 10 minutes we'll double you order. Just pay shipping and handling" I'd wonder what cheap piece of shit that was an $80 value could be sold at 2 for $14.95. And don't forget the shipping and handling for $7.95.

Aw, but that's child's play in the world of bullshit commercials. Whoever the cretin is who produced "Viva Viagra" should be brought before the public and be drawn and quartered. What does Viva Viagra mean? Hurray, I can get it up? Thanks for the erection? Whoopee I've got a woody? I'm fine with selling sex. Everyone does it. Everyone just doesn't sign about it. What ever happened to the ground breaking Bob Dole commercials where we first heard "erectile dysfunction". A nice clinical way of saying "We can revive your mojo, Buddy." But sitting around a campfire and signing Viva Viargra? They're all guys!! Mercy me. Let depart this delicate subject by stealing a line I heard in a movie. If you get an erection lasting longer than four hours, send your doctor a letter of thinks!

On to LA (Lower Alabama). Thanks for reading.