*published July 28, 2005
One is that pre-teen boys are not awestruck by nature’s wonders. Marcus’ observation about the Meteor Crater was, “Wow, that’s a big hole.”
As we drove toward Cortez, Colorado, I asked him, “Wasn’t the Rio Grande National Forest beautiful?”
“Hmm,” he mused, “was that the one with all the trees?”
“Well, yes, but it also had that stream that ran along the road,” Dale offered.
“I guess,” Marcus shrugged.
The only time he really got excited was when we were standing on the corner of Winslow, Arizona. At least I’ve raised an Eagles’ fan.
Even if my husband thought that the scenery was gorgeous, he didn’t want to talk about it. As we drove up the narrow, winding road in Mesa Verde National Park, I looked out over an eerie landscape of lush greenery climbing up dead evergreens, standing monuments to a fire three years ago. “Isn’t this just breathtaking?” I asked Dale.
He looked out of the driver’s window and gasped theatrically.
“Fine,” I huffed. “Ain’t it purty?” Smiling at my grasp of manly language, he agreed.
I also noticed that our 8-year old minivan, in perfect working order before the trip, was not so agreeable for the long haul. The first day on the road, the “Service Engine Soon” light popped on unpleasantly, from about Needles, California to just outside Amarillo, Texas, where it decided to stop complaining.
On the way home, the doors decided that they had to keep unlocking at regular intervals, until we got about halfway across Missouri. Then the doors calmed down and the “Service Engine” light came back on.
I think the car just wanted attention. At this point, I’m waiting for the “I Told You I Was Sick” light before I take it to the shop.
We decided to drive straight home from Mesa Verde, which is about a 13-hour drive, and I found out that when you’re staring endlessly down the straight line from New Mexico to Barstow, even the dog gets bored.
We brought a portable DVD player so we could watch movies to pass the time, but I discovered that since I get carsick when I read in the car, I also get carsick when I watch movies. I could only listen to the movies that Dale watched as I drove. At least they were talkies, in English.
My last observation is that Placentia is absolutely the most wonderful place I’ve ever lived. Although I enjoyed the beautiful scenery of the nine states we visited, I missed the palm trees and the manicured lawns. I feasted on homegrown delights back in Decatur, Illinois, but I missed Mexican foods and avocados. And I really missed the non-smoking environment!
Every time we go on one of these trips, I think about that cliché, “You can’t go home again.” That’s not true. You can go home again, as long as home is where you started out.