Back
at the hotel after the Wedding, I said goodbye to Tracey’s parents and other
family members. Everyone had plans to leave early next morning. After asking
several times about our departure hour, I just gave up and when the first light
of day drifted through the blinds Sunday morning, I dragged my tired, aching
bones out of bed and packed my bags ready to head for home. Rising early on Sunday is habitual for me as
I go to worship at 9:00 each Sunday.
Robyn,
an early riser, began her “cheer-leading routine” to get everyone down to
breakfast ready to depart. The ride home
would include a two-car caravan with Mandy and Maggie traveling with us. Of
course, goodbyes took time as Tracey’s family lingered for last moments
together. We climbed in the van around 10:00 with destination Paris, Texas.
With stretching room available in the van after unloading Heather’s belongings,
I had visions of an easier trip home.
However, a wavering edge of concern swept
through my mind, as I remembered the fourteen-year-old van had accumulated another
1000 miles since we arrived in Woodward a week ago. Robyn checked the duct tape
repairs deciding we may make it home without further attention to that
minor problem. After a brief delay
waiting for Mandy, who stayed at La Quinta Hotel close by (where pets are
welcome), our caravan headed east toward Louisiana.
Robyn,
well-organized, prompt, and impatient, frazzled with the frustrating week of
following orders instead of giving them, climbed behind the wheel for the first
stint of driving. Tasha, her navigator
with Siri as the source of information, did her best to accommodate her Mom.
The truth is not all States are visitor-friendly, and in my opinion, Oklahoma,
Texas, and Louisiana fall into the category of limited interest in the plight
of their visitors. The road signs are
all there, but you need to be quick to catch them, because there are few
warnings about what comes next.
Tasha,
always on the hunt for coffee shops, had predetermined where she wanted to
stop. She loaded her X-Files story, leaned back to listen, and navigated. With Mandy, Tracey, and Maggie following us,
we crossed the Oklahoma countryside again enjoying the fascinating windmill
farms and other scenery. I still had the
Oklahoma shawl in progress although its length had grown considerably in the last
week. I listened to X-files and napped along the way.
We
stopped at places we had been before knowing they would have Tasha’s coffee and
a rest room, not always easy to find in the rural regions of our route. In the afternoon with the temperatures
climbing to near 100 degrees, Father’s Day travelers abundant, and two cars
filled with tired, road weary passengers and a dog, we pulled into the Teepee
Truck Stop again. Robyn checked the taillight rigging to see if the duct tape
held and breathed a sigh of relief that we were nearing halfway with no
additional problems.
Back
on the road after food in the Teepee plaza, a long walk for Maggie, and a good
stretch for us, we continued making good progress. In spite of the ragged,
rough roads just as apparent in the southbound lane as we found traveling northbound
last week, the old Dodge van rolled along groaning and complaining with scary
sounds to alarm its passengers at times. I remembered many of the political hopefuls
giving lip-service to our failing highway system, but little preference to
budgeting for changes when the opportunity arises. They drive from airport to
airport in air-conditioned limos and fly over these State highways without spending
one minute riding on the surface. Why should they care about my aching bones
from a day of riding in a car? Maybe we should stop paying for limos and
airplanes and see that our lawmakers spend a few hours living like we do. Use
the money wasted on their comfort to rebuild our roads and bridges. What an
idea!
Anyway,
we arrived at our destination in East Texas, a La Quinta Hotel where Maggie is
welcome, later than hoped, dark-thirty. Tired and road-weary, we unloaded and
ordered food from a nearby restaurant. Rising early next morning, following a
restless night, I waited patiently for the rest. Robyn returned from checking
the van to announce we had missed breakfast.
They closed the hotel breakfast area at 9:00 am. Thanks, La Quinta for
advising us of that feature of your service. Guess we are spoiled by city
behavior and time schedules. Needing breakfast right away, we found a Sonic
Drive In with a picnic area that looked appealing. We could have a leisurely breakfast, and
Maggie could join us at the picnic table. Great! A good start for our last day.
Back
on the road again, they hashed out which direction we should be going and
finally got both cars headed south. Tasha set up X-files to find out “if that
last character lived or died” in the long-winded story started yesterday. Also
alert and determined to find the coffee shop (the one with the East Texas charm
and lousy hot tea), she set a course for an exit that apparently went awry
somehow. We wandered throughout the Texas countryside finally ending up on dirt
roads with dead-ends and never found the coffee shop. With Robyn’s patience
running out, and Tracey questioning from her cell phone of the driving
alertness in the lead car, we gave up searching for the charming wooden floors
and local cultural appeal of that unique coffee shop. We’ll catch it next trip!
When
we began to see the long bridges and swamp lands of Louisiana, and the sun
dropped low in my eyes, I had to give up knitting and admit, I’m really tired.
Mandy, a careful, obedient to the rules driver, whom I commend for that
wonderful trait, apparently got on Robyn’s last nerve. Her lead foot had only one goal; she had to
be at the office the next morning. “Tracey, you drive. I want to get home,” she
said as the sun dropped into the horizon, and it became evident, it would be
dark-thirty when we arrived in New Orleans.
Back
home again, my trappings unloaded, I kicked off my shoes and leaned back in my comfortable
chair to contemplate the week. I
realized the whole “thing” had been a riveting, stressful experience for
me. A week of being attentive, supportive,
and alert with many strangers, in a strange place to honor a young woman, who
had been in my life since she was four years old, had been trying at times for
an old lady like me, but rewarding as well with treasured memories. And the
road trip, oh, well, it’s over. Maybe I
should write about it, after all, that’s what I do with most of my time anyway.
And that white shawl, the Oklahoma shawl, I should get that finished too. As
Scarlet O’Hara said, “I’ll think about that tomorrow!”
CAN YOU BELIEVE IT!
THE END
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