The preparations were complete; it was now time to commence our epic Road Trip. Upon arriving at DFW, Amanda announced that everything was bigger in Texas, except for the sign indicating the location of the baggage claim where I was waiting for her.
Once we finally got into the car, Amanda had arranged playlists, apparently one for each day of our journey. The first song was a ditty I know as "Big D, little A, double L, A S". I confess, I thought this a tune from some obscure Republic Pictures oater from the 40's. Instead, it was written for a musical in the 50's, but did not attain popularity until performed as a duet by Carol Burnett and Julie Andrews on television in 1961. Now that, boys and girls, is insignificant knowledge.
As she had left NYC quite early in the morning, our first quest was to find food for our famished own selves. We both noticed how darned flat it was, as we sped by an interminable amount of retail boxes (mostly) large and small, until we found our grail: Freebirds, in Las Colinas. I have had burritos in all sorts of places; this topped them all. Thanks to Emily B, via Julia, for the tip! (Funny thing about this restaurant: I could not remember the name of it. I kept wanting to call it Sweet Home Alabama, or some such). After stuffing ourselves, I determined that Amanda simply had to experience In N Out Burger, if for no other reason than to see it. We found one less than a mile away, where we got one milkshake. This was the second felicitous use of Google maps on this journey. Other highlights from day one:
Shortly after beginning the trek North, I quickly dispelled the notion that I had to speak like a Texan. We decided we would find sights of interest along the way. One cannot spend much time in Texas without noticing the amount of water towers along the way. Our favorite was in Lewisville, which proclaimed it the home of the Fighting Farmers, state champs in 1993 and 1996. I could not help but wonder how many coaches have been fired since that last feat, for not winning a championship for 17 years.
I scarcely noticed the Red River, as it was not much more than a stream. Such a stark contrast to all those John Wayne movies, where our heroes encountered all sorts of peril in driving their cattle across this raging river. In lieu of our traditional border crossing commentary, we sang a chorus of the state song.
There are probably more casinos in Oklahoma than in any state, save Nevada. Whenever I see one of these, I am reminded of the unholy alliance of those who bestowed these monstrosities on us all: Jack Abramoff, Ralph Reed, Grover Norquist and Tom DeLay. Why only one of those scoundrels ended up in jail is beyond me. These were all set up as ways for Native American tribes to make money, which they do, albeit not nearly as much as the aforementioned crooks and the companies that run these palaces. They were also set up to fund education in the various states (most of which reside in the old Bible Belt; I guess the good Lord hath no qualms about gamblin'), many of which now contend with Mississippi for the state with the lowest SAT scores. I reckon that has not worked out as promised either.
Favorite billboard: Robinson's Ham, plus Real Good Beef Jerky. We both thought this immensely amusing. Our hosts that evening explained that Robinson's Ham is quite the delicacy. I have since found their website, which is so appealing as to lead one to consider a mail order purchase. I am chagrined we did not stop.
Favorite sites: there were actually two. South Central Oklahoma is full of rolling hills and spectacular vistas. The first wonder was a roadside vantage point, where we looked upon what looked to be a field full of straight rows of rocks. The historic marker explained that mountains once stood here; these rocks were all that remained of those days from several millennia in the past. Just beyond that was Turner Falls, billed as the largest falls in the state. Huge sandstone boulders formed small mountains, capped by these pretty cool falls. I had no idea such a sight existed in the state where I grew up.
My poor daughter. I subjected her to one tale after another, about how certain rocks are indigenous to the state, how the state was settled in 1889, how it got its nickname, how we were on the path of the Chisholm Trail and on and on, ad infinitum. She bore it well. Crossing the mighty Arkansas River into Tulsa begat another series of stories. My mother used to tell us to look at this river, just to see if there was any water in it, which became one of those family in-jokes. I recall as a child being stunned to see rivers in the East that actually did have copious amounts of water; the Hudson and Susquehanna being the two that immediately come to mind.
We spent a delightful evening at the home of Rick & Kathy. I first met Rick when we were a year old; our parents became good friends and he and I have remained so since that time. They are as close to family as one can be without the blood ties. Over the past several years, they were exceptionally kind to my mother, as her age advanced and her health declined. We ate a meal there that rivaled any restaurant and enjoyed the warmth only found in great homes. The next morning brought another round of wonderful food and company.
We loaded up the car and headed out again. I have been to Tulsa many times since moving away after high school, with visits becoming more frequent as my Mother's health declined. I do not know when - or if - I will next be making the trip. As we headed out of town, we drove by my parents' last home. It was their dream house, the one they bought when all their children had finished college and they finally had money to spend on themselves. Their plan was to have a big yard with a pool, so their grandchildren would have something to do when they came to visit. Which they did. I have many happy memories of that place, as does Amanda, who visited several times as a child.
Stay tuned for Chapter 3.
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