• Sharon’s Travel Briefs

*When the odometer on my 2004 Hyundai Elantra reaches 150,000 miles, I will throw her a party. (Maybe treat her to five quarts of that genuine, real, expensive, synthetic oil?) During my cross-country jaunt she didn’t fail me once, not with a hiccup, a stubborn start or a flat tire. I say her, because I recently named her Ruby, for her striking color. I thought I would never name a car but it reminds me of my daughter’s first vehicle, a small pickup truck in fire-engine red she named “Mama Zoom.” Later, when she added a camper top, I made curtains for it in a red and blue paisley material.

*Over the course of more than seven thousand miles and many fast food stops, my loyalty defected from Burger King to Wendy’s. Wendy’s has 5 kinds of salads!

*At a rest stop in Florida, a car pulled up in front of the building. A woman jumped out and ran toward the restroom, then the car pulled away to park. I thought, “What a nice man that husband must be.” When I spotted the driver, it was a woman.

*Down in Mississippi and Louisiana, everyone calls everyone else “Baby.” One employee in a fast food restaurant had an undefinable skin color and only one bottom tooth. She called me “Baby” and said “God bless you.” I wanted to hug her. I wonder why I didn’t.

*New Mexico really is the Land of Enchantment in a very few lovely places, with scenery painted in pastels and crisp, clean air.

*Highway I-10 in Alabama provides no rest stops. I guess they want you to do as the natives do–take aim at a clump of weeds or squat in the woods.

*I was very pleased to see many acres of wind turbines along Highway 40, especially in Texas and New Mexico. I also saw field holding hundreds of solar panels. Maybe there’s hope for the planet after all.

*Speaking of Texas, its topography is as diverse as that of my favorite state, Arizona. In northern Texas there are miles of forests, an alpine-like village at about 7,000 feet, and historical markers galore and even a town named Crockett for that guy with the coon-skin hat, yes, Davy Crockett.
*California Walmart stores charge for the plastic bags they provide. The cashier asks you how many you want to buy, making it a guessing game to see how much of your stuff can fit in how few bags. However, in California they also let individuals cash in used soda and beer cans. You don’t see many littering the roadsides, and there is a financial upside to being an alcoholic. (Yes, beer drinkers can be alcoholics, too.)

*I think California almost outdoes Florida with beautiful Crepe Myrtle trees in shades from pale pink to scarlet, but HA! they don’t have Magnolias.

*That beautiful white bird with the long, long swallow tail I saw in North-Central Texas haunts me, because I can’t find out what it is. The National Audubon Society declined to identify it for me and two different bird books didn’t help.

*I’m very grateful that in so many towns and byways, no one saw fit to steal the magnetic sign on the back of my car that says “I LOVE MY GRANDDOG.” Is it politically incorrect to say that older people who love dogs would never steal?

*Over the course of my trip, I stayed in many hotels. Most were lovely places of the Holiday Inn Express type, but on several nights I tried the cheapies. Remember those radio ads by Tom Bodet for Motel 6–“We’ll keep the light on for you?” I stayed in 3 different Motel 6s during my three week journey.

Motel 6 #1 was clean, no-frills but safe and pleasant.

Motel 6 #2 was okay until I saw the cockroach. I attacked, spraying it with the Lysol spray I used to disinfect the tv remote, the toilet handle and other bacteria-teeming objects. It was the cleanest dead roach in the state of Texas.

Motel 6 #3 near New Orleans should compete with the Bates Motel for horrors. I checked in only because a thunderstorm approached, one with damaging hail and rain torrential enough to reduce visibility to zero and flood the roads. I turned off the four-lane, and there it was. My car made me stop. The first room I was given the key to presented a problem right away. I couldn’t get in. The proprietor showed me the trick–lift up on the handle, then down, quickly. The trick didn’t work for me, so I propped the door open while I unloaded my things from the car. The room was tacky but bearable until the roof started to leak, pouring water onto the bathroom floor. I moved to the room next door, which was a little better, until I noticed the deadbolt had been torn from the door frame and re-installed and the other lock, that long rod that catches when the door opens, was gone, torn out of the door frame. The proprietor seemed surprised when I told him I didn’t feel safe and wouldn’t stay in it. The third room also showed the locks had been wrenched out of the solid wood and reinstalled. I was finally able to get to sleep after I propped a chair and my heavy suitcase against the door. The next morning, grateful to have survived the night, my suspicions were confirmed when I noticed the building next door was an “Adult Emporium.” (Not an adult boutique or adult store, an adult Emporium!) and next to that, a defunct night club. The police must have had fun with their ramming rods. I hope they caught many drug and human traffickers. Tom Bodet, do not keep the lights on for me. I’d rather take my chances on the road.