Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday (March 14,15,16)
Up, dressed and packed, we rode along the interstate glad to be back on track. We slipped through Houston with no difficulty, even managed to travel the HOV (high occupancy vehicle – that means two or more passengers) lane and miss paying a toll. Driving into San Antonio, we felt great. The night before, thanks to the internet, we’d located a place to dance on a Monday night. In the coupon book, we’d found a Super Eight motel advertising $49.00 a night, within three or four blocks of the dance hall, and close to downtown. Everything had fallen into place, we thought.
San Antonio, although smaller than Houston, is the hub of several interstates. The spider web of freeways, laping and overlapping each other presented only confusion to the uninitiated. Cars roared along at 65 and 70 mph, (120-130 kmph), and exits and entrances flashed by. We missed our exit but on the map I found another. By the time we got to the hotel, Tom was exhausted. Turned out the Motel Six was almost directly under two layers of freeway. We stepped out of the car, and our ears were assaulted with the noise. Inside the hotel lobby, a toothless clerk said, “Yes we have a room, but it’s March break. The coupons don’t apply. The room will be $89.” – “No thank you,” Tom said and marched to the car. Tom said. “Maybe it was the freeway overhead, or the run down area, but I didn’t feel safe there. We’ll try the motel that is closer to downtown.”
Back into the stream of flying cars we zoomed. This time finding the exit was easier. The motel looked like a fortress. None of the first floor rooms had windows.
“No vacancy,” the woman said.
Rooms here were more expensive anyway.
“I really don’t want to see the Alamo,” I said. “It’s just a place where a lot of people died in a war that never should have happened. Let’s leave San Antonio, It’s only 4:30. We can stop at some small place.” I picked up the map.. We drove past the Alamo and Riverwalk as well.
“It’s just a muddy brown river with a sidewalk, amidst some historic buildings,” Tom said, as once more he pulled our little car into the stream of flying traffic.
Leaving was easier than arriving. We got back on Interstate Ten and flew out of the city. We stopped that night about 7 in a little place called Boerne. The motel room was tiny, clean and affordable and had a restaurant attached. We climbed out of our car, stiff, and exhausted and grateful to have a place for the night. Food at the restaurant was delicious. People were great. The next morning, revived and refreshed, we decided it was time to leave the interstate. Fredericksburg, a tourist had told us, back at a Texas rest station, is a wonderful place up in the hill country. After a good breakfast of bacon and eggs, we drove off, relieved, and homesick. We’d had enough of hotels and strangers. We were missing our family, our friends, our home.
Driving into Fredericksburg, a tall white church steeple beckoned us. “Let’s go there,” Tom suggested. “The church people will know of a good place to stay.”
They suggested the bed and breakfast registration centre, and the hotel strip. “You won’t have much choice,” they cautioned. “It’s winter break, and the whole world seems to be here this week. If you’re still here tomorrow, please come for a light supper and our Lenten service tomorrow evening.”
We thanked them, climbed into the car, took a deep breath and began our search.
Bed and breakfasts started at $150 a night, not quite in our league. We found the “Budget Motel”. It offered a small room, relatively clean for $50.00 a night. We took it gladly.
Once settled, we had diner at the Ausländer restaurant, good German food in a good German town. We felt our frazzled nerves settle a little. After dinner we drove out to Luckenbach dance hall. We found a group of barn board buildings nestled back in from a country highway, a dance hall, with a beautiful wood floor, two stores crowded with cowboy hats and souvenirs and a bar. People sat in a courtyard drinking beer and listening to local musicians gathered for a “Pickin Circle”. The parking lot was massive. At 5 in the afternoon already the crowd had started to form. We were disappointed to learn that the dance was on Friday night. Still we looked through the stores and listened a while. Tired from our San Antonio ordeal, and homesick, we went back to our motel to rest and read.
Wednesday morning, after breakfast we went to a Christian coffee house for our morning coffee and tea. Like many privately owned coffee houses, it had couches and chairs and interesting stuff (Christian stuff) to see. I settled with my tea, and journal book in the first easy chair since I left home. Tom got out the maps to plot the next step in our journey. We talked with some tourists for a while. When they left, the proprietor invited Tom to pick up the guitar that was waiting in its stand. Tom played and sang. I prayed and wrote. My life had returned to normal. We spent the day, wandering the multitude of gift shops on main street. Mid afternoon we stopped at a deli for a German sandwich and Mexican soup. We ended the afternoon at a used book store. Both of us needed another book to read. We left there at 6:15.
“Do you think it’s too late to go to the Lutheran church for that light supper and Lenten service?” I said.
“Let’s see,” Tom replied.
Our new friends at the church greeted us warmly. “So glad you’ve come. Of course, there’s still food. No charge, just a free will offering.” They ushered us to the table. We enjoyed the potato bacon soup and variety of sandwiches and goodies. Most of all we enjoyed the love and caring of these wonderful brothers and sisters in Christ. The rituals at the service were different. A lot of the liturgy was sung. As often happens it seemed God had intended the message for me. On the way back to the motel, Tom said, “Nothing like a good dose of church,” to combat homesickness.” He was right. We both felt as if, at least for a little while, we’d returned home. One of the blessings of being part of the body of Christ is that a Christian family awaits us, wherever we go.
March 17, 18, and part of 19
A second night in our tiny hotel room, left us a little bit rested and ready to journey onward. Yesterday, we had purchased fruit (strawberries and grapefruit (deliciously sweet) and yoghurt and had our ever present crackers and cheese.. We’d even bought plastic plates, and bowls. We laid out our feast on the little hotel room desk, and devoured most everything. Our tummies full we loaded the car, stopped for coffee and tea at the Christian coffee shop and then slipped out of town. It was already 11 a.m. It’s a good thing we don’t plan on having an early start. We’d never manage it.We chose to go to Midland, Texas because the internet spoke about dancing available. It took us much longer than we had anticipated. Why?
About eight miles out of Midland, in the middle of the desert, temperature a mere 94 degrees Fahrenheit, we had a flat tire. Sounds simple and it was, sort of. First we had to take everything out of the back of this car in order to get to the doughnut spare. We piled it out along the highway. By then we were already hot. Tom assembled the tiny jack for our tiny car. Once the car was raised, he had quite a struggle getting the nuts loose on the tire. Considering we had the snows removed just before we left, I would have thought it would be easy. I was glad he had over two hundred pounds to put into jumping on the wrench, before the bolts loosened. After that effort, the wheel would not come off the hub. I sweated and watched. Tom sweated and yanked on the tire. The car shifted on the jack.
“Be careful,” I said.
“I know,” Tom said.
Finally, I suggested, “Maybe we can flag someone down.” I waved, and people in their SUV’s and pickup trucks, smiled and waved back as they whizzed by. In approx. five minutes, which seemed like five hours, a truck put on its blinker and pulled in behind us. A big strong young man, jumped down from the cab.
“Need some help?”
“Can’t get the wheel off.”
He squatted down to the tire. One heave and the wheel let go. He didn’t even pull the car off the jack. In minutes he had the doughnut on and the nuts tightened. We thanked him profusely.
“Well, I saw you out there waving, and everyone driving right on by. I figured you wanted help, so I turned around and came back.”
I gave him a copy of Spectacular Stella. “I’m a writer and this is one of my books. If you don’t have children, maybe you know a child.”
He grinned, obviously pleased. “I’ve three boys,” he said as he leafed through it. “They’ll like this. Thanks.”
“Thank you,” we both said. “God Bless You for being our angel.”
He drove away. We loaded everything back into the truck and drove into Midland, stopping at the first tire dealership we saw. Being already 5 o’clock, the owner was locking up, his trusty guard pit bull at his side. Once again we unloaded everything and handed him the wrecked tire. He took it in and found a big slice in the side. He didn’t have a replacement.
“Not much call for such small tires in these parts,” he said as he eyed our little car.
He called the tire place around the corner and down the road. Yup, they had a tire and hadn’t yet closed. So we piled everything back into the car. At the second shop, we unloaded it all again so we would be able to put the doughnut away properly. Twenty minutes later we had a good $30 used tire in place. We loaded, well, we threw everything back in. By now it was well after six. Hot, sweaty and exhausted, we wanted only a bed for the night. We tried one hotel – wasn’t clean. The next was full. We came to the Clarion. They had an indoor pool and everything we needed. $65, the clerk said.
We unloaded our stuff once again. I went down to the desk to get a recommendation for supper. We had told him our story when we checked in.
“I imagine, you folks don’t want to drive anywhere,” he said. “There’s a steak house that delivers.”
He handed me a pamphlet. “Steak Express: Two 12 oz sirloin tips dinners complete with a baked potato, and salad, cooked to order – one rare, one medium. All delivered for $23.00 and in 45 minutes. We ordered it and went to the pool while we waited. The pool was huge and refreshing, the steak was tender and delicious, our room was spacious and the bed had a pillow top mattress. We had discovered paradise. We did not dance. We read, and called a few people and collapsed into bed.
Friday morning we awoke, rested and ready to drive again. We’ve decided we aren’t nomads by nature. This is a great motel. We’d have liked to put down roots.
Friday’s drive was uneventful. We arrived in Roswell, New Mexico at about 5. Once again the first motel wasn’t particularly clean, well at least the lobby wasn’t clean. We never saw a room, because we couldn’t get the key to work. The room was at the back of the hotel, which was good, far from the traffic. When the key didn’t work, we trudged back to the lobby and got a second one. Back to the room, and it didn’t work either. Enough. We handed the hotel clerk back the key and climbed wearily back into the car. We ended up at a Best Western. $70 a night but big, clean, fridge, microwave, hair dryer, and pillow top bed, no pool. We didn’t care. We took it.
We hadn’t stopped for lunch, so we went for supper before unloading. The desk clerk had recommended “The Cattle Baron”.
”It has a salad bar,” she said.
“Hallelujah,” I said. Fresh vegetables. Vegetables in general had been missing from our diet since we left home. One night there were some green beans in a bowl that had been cooked to death. Otherwise, a tiny salad with iceberg lettuce and a few little pieces of tomato seemed to be all that was offered. The salad bar was wonderful. We had blackened catfish and salad – spinach, sweet peppers and jalapeno peppers, carrots, tomatoes, mushrooms and more and more and more.
Our tummies once again stuffed, we returned to our room. I looked up dancing on the computer. Another bowling alley with a dance floor. Hooray. We showered and changed. By our clocks it was 9:10 p.m.
Tom locked me into the car in a busy parking lot and went in to check it out. This was his report when he came back out to the car.
“ Lots of bowling going on, no sign of dancing. Here are the rules for the dance floor:
“No weapons allowed. When you enter you will go through a metal detector. Anyone with weapons will not be admitted.”
“No numbered team sweaters, team regalia. All ball caps, are to be worn level on the head and peak to the front.”
“Anyone leaving the premises will be required to pay admission before reentry.”
“No disorderly conduct.”
Tom had asked the girl at the bowling part about the dance.
“It starts around nine.”
“It’s already 9:20”
“It starts later, “ she responded.
Tom got in the car and said, “I think we should go back to the motel. Who knows when they’ll start the dance.”
Once again, we spent some time reading and checking emails. As we were crawling into bed, Tom looked at the clock, frowned and called the front desk.
Putting the phone down he said, “Guess what, we’re on mountain time.” The dance hadn’t started because it wasn’t yet nine o’clock. That girl must have thought I was nuts.”
We laughed and went to sleep.
Saturday Morning
This motel offered a continental breakfast. When this trip is over, I will never eat another continental breakfast. We ate, packed and went to the U.F.O (unidentified flying objects) museum. In 1947, during the first week of July, a farmer found the remains of aliens, and an outerspace vehicle on his land right here in Roswell New MexicoWhen he reported his find to the military there was a massive coverup. That’s the way it was written up in the papers. Anyway, in the museum there were pictures, taped interviews, written affidavits and newspaper articles and much more. It’s a good museum and an interesting story. At one o’clock we went to the Dairy Queen. We ate crackers and cheese. Tom had a coffee, I had an extreme chocolate blizzard. Tom righteously ate the last apple. I wallowed in icecream, chocolate chips and fudge brownies. It was heavenly.
The drive to Albuquerque was interesting and quite beautiful in a rugged and desolate way. The desert had become mountainous. Occasionally there would be a house sitting alone in the wilderness. Sometimes the mountains would have trees, but usually scrub brush. Tumbleweed rolled across the road. One hit the car. Dust devils whirled in the distance. We passed an area called the “Valley of the Fires”. I’ll have to look that up tonight. It wasn’t just burnt. It looked as if the land/rock had erupted. I took pictures through the car window. We didn’t stop or pull over. Tom is sure it was stopping to take pictures that caused the slash in the tire. I didn’t argue. I'll add more when we leave Albuquerque.
Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday (Marc...
Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday (March 23)
We’ve had a wonderful few days. We got to Albuquerque around 5 p.m. Saturday afternoon. We planned to spend some time with Donna and Paul Hill. Donna is the cousin of our friend Nancy from Montreal. We had met them when we went to Connellsville, Pennsylvania for Nancy’s Mom’s funeral. Donna and Paul live in Rio Rancho, a city north of Albuquerque, sort of like Richmond is to Toronto. Paul had given detailed instructions to their home. We stopped for supper at a Chinese restaurant in Rio Rancho and then went to their place. We were welcomed with open arms. Both Donna and Paul are wonderful hosts. They have a beautiful big home, decorated with art souvenirs of their many travels. The house has a granny flat extension, so we enjoyed having our own suite of rooms. The Hills becamel tour guides. On Sunday they took us to their Presbyterian church, up in the mountairns. We met a lot of wonderful friendly people, one of which was a woman who had lived for several years in Bobcaygeon. After church, we had lunch at a Mexican restaurant in Rio Rancho and went on down to Old Town in Albuquerque. When I got to the cathedral, I reached for my camera. As usual, I had left it behind, this time at the restaurant. We checked our watches. The restaurant had closed for the day. Since there was nothing we could do about it at that point, we focused on our sight seeing. Tomorrow we would deal with the camera. That night, Paul and Donna showed us a video of their trip to China. We enjoyed seeing some of the things that we had seen when we were there visiting Dave, Joanne and Jenna. After lots of lively conversation we went to bed.
Monday morning, Donna called the restaurant. They were friends with the manager, Michelle. Yes, Michelle had our camera and we could pick it up even before the restaurant opened at 11 a.m. We went to the post office and then headed off to Sante Fe, where we wondered in and our of artisan shops and bought a few things. We visited the Loretto Chapel and saw the Miracle Stairs. I bought a brightly coloured Mexican skirt for dancing. It swirls around my legs when I twirl. We took heaps of pictures. Once again we had lunch out in a Mexican Restaurant. The food was delicious. We got back home about 7:30. Paul made a scrumptious noodle, spinach, cilantro, mushrooms, and chicken wonton soup. We talked some more and then crawled off to bed exhausted.
Tuesday, Tom and I were ready for a slow day. Paul and Donna took us regular shopping. Tom got a new pair of cowboy boots. He hasn’t been able to wear his old ones since he got his orthotics. These are a beautiful leather, and have a smooth sole so he can wear them dancing. We did some other shopping. Paul thought it would be good to take us for a drive up into the mountains. We had a grand tour. Once again I took heaps of pictures. When we returned to the house, Tom and I had a nap. Donna and Paul had a rest as well. They prepared a gourmet supper. Paul likes to cook. That evening we asked to see Paul and Donna’s pictures from their trip to Egypt. They were amazing. Once again we fell into our comfortable bed and slept.
This morning, after breakfast, we loaded the car and said goodbye and thank you to our new friends. Paul had suggested that it might be fun to go into Arizona by way of Silver City. I think we may have taken a different road than they suggested. We had quite a journey. Most of the time Tom drove 20 or 25 mph as we climbed up and down the mountains, around hair pin turns, on a narrow road with no shoulder and with no guard rail to obstruct our view of canyons yawning thousands of feet below us. . The scenery was breathtaking and scary. I played spider solitaire and peaked up every once in a while. What I saw was amazing. Tom spiraled up the mountain, negotiating the hairpin turns sometimes as slowly as 10 mph, and then spiraled back down again, only to repeat the process for mountain after mountain. On the map the jiggidy line covered about 40-50 miles. In reality we drove for hours (at least two). We arrived at Silver City and stopped at the first Wall Mart to use the bathroom. After filling the car with gas, and carefully examining the map to make sure the next leg of the journey wasn’t that kind of mountain driving, we headed out of town. Our goal for this day is Wilcox, Arizona. We’ll get there before dark. That’s good. Hopefully it is big enough to have a motel. Otherwise we’ll drive the interstate right on into Tucson.
