As I passed the Welcome to Utah sign, I knew in my heart that I would someday return to Idaho. The people, the mountain scenery and the proximatety to Yellowstone in that part of the state surely made an impression on me. Maybe it was all that Idaho sunshine...although they tell me it's not always like that. Anyway, it's on the short list of places to do again.
Utah, this time of the year looks dryer and browner than its neighbor to the north, but there is a certain appeal to it all. The mountains had an interesting "crag" to them and the skies were a spotless deep blue. I layed over in Salt Lake City before going to Famous Potatoland, but didn't get to see the Great Salt Lake. The downside of this job is that you find yourself next to all these great attractions and either don't have the time to explore them or can't take the truck. That's why they call it a job, I guess. You just have to enjoy what you can see. The other sight I wanted to see was the Golden Spike at Promontory. This was the place where they joined the railroad in the 1870's and made it transcontinental. It was a big deal in those days. I didn't see any of the Osmonds, but there was evidence that they were around from the Osmond Realty signs I saw in yards. Somebody in the family is hawking dirt and boards. Strangely enough, I saw no sign of the Mormons. I guess I wasn't looking hard enough. There is supposed to be some sort of Tabernacle nearby. A number of the license plates say "The Greatest Snow On Earth" . Feed that to Andy Rooney. If I remember, the Winter Olympics were here not too long ago, so the Olympic Committee must have agreed regarding the snow. I'll have to come back in the "Old Man" season and see what all the fuss is about. The other claim to fame Utah has is bees. They call it "The Beehive State" There are DOT signs about with beehives on them...not real ones, just illustrations! Like the Gems in Idaho, I haven't fully understood the bee thing. There must be a lot of bees and honey here.
The computer on the truck spit out an opportunity to Colorado and I was excited to go because I had never seen the western part of the state. The trip would be to Grand Junction and then on to Parachute, Colorado. Yes, that's a town and you can find "Rifle, Colorado" right up the highway. This would be a quick pick up and drop off in an effort to head east and get more load opportunities. The plan was keep rolling to Chicago, the busiest freight hub in the whole world. Seven times I have been in Chicago this Summer/Fall and I have yet to layover there. They send me packing quickly out of there. No chance to catch a few innings at Wrigley in that atmosphere.
As I rolled past the familiar Welcome to Colorado sign, the terrain appeared to be a sort of desert mountain land. It didn't take long to make Parachute and what I found was a great little town nestled in a valley next to some large mountains with some welcoming people. The drop off point for the load was in a strangely open area with some rough looking characters that looked like they didn't mingle with outside folk all too often. There was no loading dock, they just took what I had to give them off the truck with a rather large forklift. They just kind of looked at me and spit tobacco juice. Well, ok then. Have a nice day.
It was my birthday and any celebrating was going to be on my own. That's ok, I've had a few of these events. The local bar-b-que joint looked like a logical choice to me. There was a Chinese place, but all I could picture was that scene in the movie "Christmas Story" where the family has Christmas dinner in a Chinese place. I'll pass on the fortune cookies, give me a big plate of western bar-b-que. A Native American looking girl took my order and I scanned some tourist literature I picked up on the front porch as I waited. The pulled pork plate arrived with my obligatory unsweet ice tea. The food was surely a treat, some of the best I've had out on the road. That'll work for a birthday.
The word I expected came and it was Chicago. Back onto I-70 and onward. Now, I have always been a huge fan of Colorado ever since I first set foot here in 1970 as a young teen in the Boy Scouts. I have been fortunate enough to return several times and experience the Rocky Mountain High and take in all its wonders. In the 80's, I visited with my friend Lars and took in Colorado Springs, The Garden of The Gods, Royal Gourge, Cripple Creek and had an excellent stay at the Cheyenne Mountain Inn. I recall kicking back in the massive picture window lounge next to a huge stone fireplace blazing in yellow warmth with my cowboy boots on the hearth and a martini in hand. Snow was falling outside before the backdrop of the imposing Front Range of the Rocky Mountains. It doesn't get much better in my book.
I had been through Colorado in June and had a nice layover in Denver. This time, autumn was in full swing here. The desert-like western part of the state evolved to a wonderland of tall Rockies filled with golden Aspens blanketing the mountainsides. Some of the higher peaks were snow capped as they had been in June. The terrain color changed from a silver brown to a red rock to a blaze of fall color. The grades became increasingly steep and warning signs displayed the need for chains from September 1 to May 1. Every mile produced jaw dropping scenery tempered with "I got to pay attention to this mountain driving" thoughts. The exit for Aspen passed and then Vail sat, nestled like a crown jewel in the valley. I could see white water rafting in the adjacent river and cyclists on bike paths along the banks enjoying autumn's finest scenery and weather. This kind of place makes you want to sing Dan Fogelberg and John Denver the whole way.
All too soon, Denver appeared just like that, the Rockies were behind me. Eastern Colorado, is as flat as a board. There isn't much of a difference passing into Nebraska. I-70 split it was up I-76 and over to I-80, and the race across the plains to Chicago was on.
I'm glad I got the chance to enjoy the West before winter sets in. I can't imagine what it might be like driving some of these steep mountain grades in snow. You have to carry chains if you're going to drive out here. It's the law. If you get stuck, or worse yet, in an accident, they will fine you heavily. Don't need to bang up the pocketbook..or the truck. I'll be back, I'm certain of that. I always manage to return to Colorado. When you experience 15 percent humidity in the summer and powder snow in winter, there's little to hold you back
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Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
The Incredible, Edible Potato
The Idaho state welcome sign signaled that Utah had ended and The Gem State was beginning. Oh, and yes, Idaho is famous for something else besides spuds. I haven't figured out this gem thing, but if there are gems to go along with the potatoes in this here ground, it's got to be a great place! The countryside was a serious of beautiful rolling mountains and expansive valleys. I could almost see the Jolly Green Giant standing here. On the journey north, I passed a huge Army Surplus store cruising up I-15 and spotted a few vintage World War 2 surplus Jeeps displayed. They were the classic green model with a star on the hood with knobby looking tires, folding windshield and spare fuel container. Wow, I sure would love to have one of those babies. Maybe I could put a machine gun on the back and play Rat Patrol. I used to have a Rat Patrol lunch box when I was a kid.
I hadn't ever given much thought to Idaho, except when in the grocery store to purchase potatoes. Andy Rooney once complained on the back end of a 60 Minutes broadcast that if a state was any good, you shouldn't have to advertise it on the license plates in some type of catchy phrase or slogan. In his usual nasal delivery he groused "Imagine living in Idaho where you just got a brand new Cadillac and you have to have a license plate that says Famous Potatoes..." Mr. Rooney, these are no small potatoes here and you just have to come to see the famous kingdom.
Well, that potato harvest is going on right now. There is some serious digging going on here. Potatoes are flying everywhere. Or "potatoe" as Dan Quayle would spell it. He definitely wasn't from Idaho. Truck after truck hauling 53 feet of carbo heaven are streaming out of the state to every kind of potato processing situation you can think of. Makers of potato chips, soups, foods and...yes, the prized oblong Idaho baking potato are heading to the open arms of manufacturers and groceries all across America. What appears to remain after all the digging, is the richest looking black soil you've ever seen in miles of fields waiting for the next planting season. If you are a fan of the white carbohydrate wonder, you need to be here. I would imagine the kids here don't play with a fake plastic "Mr. Potato Head". Get your starchies in abundance in potato ground zero.
I had a Wal-Mart store sign to deliver to a supercenter just outside of Idaho Falls. It's amazing regarding the variety of freight I carry. If it fits on the truck, I'll take it....to where ever you point me. As long as doesn't fill up the entire cargo hold and is named Enola Gay. Delivery made, I stopped at a small Flying J not far away in Blackfoot. It wasn't a big travel center like a lot of them, but had all the services and goods that a driver needs on the road. The Blackfoot and Bannock Indian Tribes are native to the area and some of the folks working here appeared to be of Native American decent. The staff here was very welcoming and accommodating. The manager dropped what he was doing to assist me with the internet connection. Christina, the cashier, surprised me by saying "today is your lucky day" and presented me with a free shower coupon worth $10 when I attempted to purchase a cleanup. This was a much appreciated freebie.
I had achieved down time and made myself comfortable at a booth table in the store and opened my map to survey the area when I realized how close I actually was to Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks just over the Wyoming line. The exit was just up the highway. I asked my manager friend if he ever went to the parks and he nonchalantly replied, "yeah, we just put the kids in the car and drive over.." I replied Just driver over? "Yeah, just drive over" he repeated. "We go all the time" Dang, how great could it be to live in such a wonderful scenic place to begin with and "just driver over to one of the most revered of all national parks?" A) I wish I had the time to go over there right now, and B) I wish they would let me bring a diesel truck in. I will return here someday, even if they have to wheel me in using a hospital gurney with medical equipment.
The area around the truck stop was quite compact and a enjoyable walking distance from Wal-Mart and a number of other stores worth poking around in.
As much as I liked Blackfoot, Saturday college football was calling and the truck stop down the road in McCammon promised a big screen TV room according to my national truck stop book. I bid my new found friends in Blackfoot farewell and jumped down to the other stop.
The one thing about truckers is that they will talk to their fellow drivers as if they're co-workers or friends you might see around town. Nobody exchanges names or contact information. The chances are usually slim that you'll meet up with a guy you talked to down the road...unless you're on a dedicated route and travel the same roads all the time. I did however have a long conversation with Idaho resident driver, Rick at the McCammon, ID Flying J. As I puffed on my pipe at the concrete picnic table, I learned all about the climate here along with how to handle the mountain driving in snow to the transformation of the brown mountains to a lush green scenery in the Spring after a Winter of snow. We traded stories about our personal lives and the places we had been as truckers. The cool autumn breeze tempered the bright Idaho sunshine before the setting sun rendered short sleeves too uncomfortable to be sitting out. I wished Rick a good night and headed to the bunk in my truck. This would be a night for sweats and a blanket.
Another Monday arrived, and it was another week out. This 7 days would start here in Idaho and take me back to Utah and on to a part of Colorado that I had never been too. Parachute, Colorado? Is that really a town? Yes, and Rifle, Colorado is right up the road. Idaho is a great place. There are great people here. It is now on my esteemed list of preferred states for the scenery and people who live there.
I hadn't ever given much thought to Idaho, except when in the grocery store to purchase potatoes. Andy Rooney once complained on the back end of a 60 Minutes broadcast that if a state was any good, you shouldn't have to advertise it on the license plates in some type of catchy phrase or slogan. In his usual nasal delivery he groused "Imagine living in Idaho where you just got a brand new Cadillac and you have to have a license plate that says Famous Potatoes..." Mr. Rooney, these are no small potatoes here and you just have to come to see the famous kingdom.
Well, that potato harvest is going on right now. There is some serious digging going on here. Potatoes are flying everywhere. Or "potatoe" as Dan Quayle would spell it. He definitely wasn't from Idaho. Truck after truck hauling 53 feet of carbo heaven are streaming out of the state to every kind of potato processing situation you can think of. Makers of potato chips, soups, foods and...yes, the prized oblong Idaho baking potato are heading to the open arms of manufacturers and groceries all across America. What appears to remain after all the digging, is the richest looking black soil you've ever seen in miles of fields waiting for the next planting season. If you are a fan of the white carbohydrate wonder, you need to be here. I would imagine the kids here don't play with a fake plastic "Mr. Potato Head". Get your starchies in abundance in potato ground zero.
I had a Wal-Mart store sign to deliver to a supercenter just outside of Idaho Falls. It's amazing regarding the variety of freight I carry. If it fits on the truck, I'll take it....to where ever you point me. As long as doesn't fill up the entire cargo hold and is named Enola Gay. Delivery made, I stopped at a small Flying J not far away in Blackfoot. It wasn't a big travel center like a lot of them, but had all the services and goods that a driver needs on the road. The Blackfoot and Bannock Indian Tribes are native to the area and some of the folks working here appeared to be of Native American decent. The staff here was very welcoming and accommodating. The manager dropped what he was doing to assist me with the internet connection. Christina, the cashier, surprised me by saying "today is your lucky day" and presented me with a free shower coupon worth $10 when I attempted to purchase a cleanup. This was a much appreciated freebie.
I had achieved down time and made myself comfortable at a booth table in the store and opened my map to survey the area when I realized how close I actually was to Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks just over the Wyoming line. The exit was just up the highway. I asked my manager friend if he ever went to the parks and he nonchalantly replied, "yeah, we just put the kids in the car and drive over.." I replied Just driver over? "Yeah, just drive over" he repeated. "We go all the time" Dang, how great could it be to live in such a wonderful scenic place to begin with and "just driver over to one of the most revered of all national parks?" A) I wish I had the time to go over there right now, and B) I wish they would let me bring a diesel truck in. I will return here someday, even if they have to wheel me in using a hospital gurney with medical equipment.
The area around the truck stop was quite compact and a enjoyable walking distance from Wal-Mart and a number of other stores worth poking around in.
As much as I liked Blackfoot, Saturday college football was calling and the truck stop down the road in McCammon promised a big screen TV room according to my national truck stop book. I bid my new found friends in Blackfoot farewell and jumped down to the other stop.
The one thing about truckers is that they will talk to their fellow drivers as if they're co-workers or friends you might see around town. Nobody exchanges names or contact information. The chances are usually slim that you'll meet up with a guy you talked to down the road...unless you're on a dedicated route and travel the same roads all the time. I did however have a long conversation with Idaho resident driver, Rick at the McCammon, ID Flying J. As I puffed on my pipe at the concrete picnic table, I learned all about the climate here along with how to handle the mountain driving in snow to the transformation of the brown mountains to a lush green scenery in the Spring after a Winter of snow. We traded stories about our personal lives and the places we had been as truckers. The cool autumn breeze tempered the bright Idaho sunshine before the setting sun rendered short sleeves too uncomfortable to be sitting out. I wished Rick a good night and headed to the bunk in my truck. This would be a night for sweats and a blanket.
Another Monday arrived, and it was another week out. This 7 days would start here in Idaho and take me back to Utah and on to a part of Colorado that I had never been too. Parachute, Colorado? Is that really a town? Yes, and Rifle, Colorado is right up the road. Idaho is a great place. There are great people here. It is now on my esteemed list of preferred states for the scenery and people who live there.
Monday, September 21, 2009
The Blinding Lights, The High Desert and Osmond Country
The trip out of California was un-charted territory for me and I was excited to see the high desert around the Mojave Desert through Victorville, Apple Valley and Barstow. It was also exciting because I had never set foot in Las Vegas either, another destination along I-15 to Salt Lake City. Up and around San Bernardino and it was on to the desert. The temperatures were somewhat moderate considering and the countryside looked interesting to me. There were lots of signs advertising large plots of acreage for sale and it looked like some were taking advantage of that deal and putting up homesteads in the middle of scrubby looking vegetation and barren land. When I was in real estate, a broker of mine always said "price cures everything". This must be the case, the price would have to be right to put up a house in the desert for me! It sure sounds like the the classic "...want to buy some land?"
Lots of states have nice welcome signs that call attention to their attributes and how much you're welcome. When you get to Nevada, you know it. There is no doubt that you are crossing into the land of fantasy, fame and fortune. Primm, Nevada sits right on the California-Nevada line...or in this case, Nevada-California line! Blam...there it is, in your face, the first tall, well lit gambling monstrosity is right there...inches from the state line. I don't even remember seeing a welcome sign...just the brightest lights in the world advertising everything from 2 hotdogs for a buck to a steak dinner for $9.99 24/7...oh, and a ga-zillion chances to strike it rich. It's all broadcast in millions of candle watt light power. This was certainly a show of illumination for light freaks at nightfall in the desert.
Now, if I thought Primm, Nevada was something special...not far up the highway, Las Vegas itself was a whole 'nother ballgame. There is no question or pondering that you have entered Vegas. In fact, you can see the glow from miles away. In all its blinding glory in the night sky, I can't think of another place I've ever been to that is such an overload on the sense of sight. I didn't know what to look at...I just kept looking at everything as I passed through. The Luxor Pyramid looked intriguing as well as New York, New York....with what looked like a life size rendition of the Statue of Liberty. When every other town and Indian Reservation in America gave the green light to gambling...they must have put a plan of action on steroids in effect in this town. The Bellagio, the Wynn Casinos...Trump...every one of these spots look a land of fantasy and great fortune. So wonder it's one of America's..and the world's most desired vacation destinations. Stick a one million candle power light in my eye, promise me a pile of cash and place a bottomless drink in my hand. By morning, prop me up besides the craps table and give me a dark pair of sunglasses to battle morning sunlight. You almost need those sunglasses at night here. A place like this could send an old homeboy like me over the edge...quick. I've got to come back to this land of sensory overload...put it on the list.
It was late nighttime when I finally passed into Utah. A little tamer, a little cooler...cooler than I'd felt in days and still good drive up to Salt Lake. Parts of I-15 had a speed limit of 80 miles per hour. The highway offered some nice stretches of road to make time. I stopped at a small convenience mart for the actions of nature or as Bob Swensen used to say, "I've got to talk to a man about a horse." I purchased a one liter bottle of diet coke because it was cheaper than the 20 ounce...go figure on that one. When I paid the cashier, she said "you're the first person to actually hand the money to me and not throw it on the counter...one of the other cashiers is so mad about that she wants to quit." Wow, I told that I thought Utah people were of the nice sort...like the Osmonds. She replied "not necessarily" and thanked me profusely for my "kind deed". Glad I could make someone's day, I guess. I've never given it a second thought...you make a purchase, you hand the clerk the money. How hard is it? Well, maybe hard if the item is expensive or overpriced, but it's not the clerk's fault. Another sign of the degradation of society I guess. Cedar City must not be the gentile side of Utah.
I made it to Salt Lake City for my delivery and then headed over to the Flying J for a little shut eye. It was a decent haul up here from Los Angeles. The air is nice, the mountains are scenic and my on board computer just spit out an opportunity to Idaho Falls, Idaho. I hadn't counted on Idaho...the land of famous potatoes, but here was another personal frontier and another state closer to all 50. That's my goal. I'm looking for America where ever I can find it. What lay ahead would be one of the best legs of this trip out. Onward, ho...or IdahHO that it is.
Lots of states have nice welcome signs that call attention to their attributes and how much you're welcome. When you get to Nevada, you know it. There is no doubt that you are crossing into the land of fantasy, fame and fortune. Primm, Nevada sits right on the California-Nevada line...or in this case, Nevada-California line! Blam...there it is, in your face, the first tall, well lit gambling monstrosity is right there...inches from the state line. I don't even remember seeing a welcome sign...just the brightest lights in the world advertising everything from 2 hotdogs for a buck to a steak dinner for $9.99 24/7...oh, and a ga-zillion chances to strike it rich. It's all broadcast in millions of candle watt light power. This was certainly a show of illumination for light freaks at nightfall in the desert.
Now, if I thought Primm, Nevada was something special...not far up the highway, Las Vegas itself was a whole 'nother ballgame. There is no question or pondering that you have entered Vegas. In fact, you can see the glow from miles away. In all its blinding glory in the night sky, I can't think of another place I've ever been to that is such an overload on the sense of sight. I didn't know what to look at...I just kept looking at everything as I passed through. The Luxor Pyramid looked intriguing as well as New York, New York....with what looked like a life size rendition of the Statue of Liberty. When every other town and Indian Reservation in America gave the green light to gambling...they must have put a plan of action on steroids in effect in this town. The Bellagio, the Wynn Casinos...Trump...every one of these spots look a land of fantasy and great fortune. So wonder it's one of America's..and the world's most desired vacation destinations. Stick a one million candle power light in my eye, promise me a pile of cash and place a bottomless drink in my hand. By morning, prop me up besides the craps table and give me a dark pair of sunglasses to battle morning sunlight. You almost need those sunglasses at night here. A place like this could send an old homeboy like me over the edge...quick. I've got to come back to this land of sensory overload...put it on the list.
It was late nighttime when I finally passed into Utah. A little tamer, a little cooler...cooler than I'd felt in days and still good drive up to Salt Lake. Parts of I-15 had a speed limit of 80 miles per hour. The highway offered some nice stretches of road to make time. I stopped at a small convenience mart for the actions of nature or as Bob Swensen used to say, "I've got to talk to a man about a horse." I purchased a one liter bottle of diet coke because it was cheaper than the 20 ounce...go figure on that one. When I paid the cashier, she said "you're the first person to actually hand the money to me and not throw it on the counter...one of the other cashiers is so mad about that she wants to quit." Wow, I told that I thought Utah people were of the nice sort...like the Osmonds. She replied "not necessarily" and thanked me profusely for my "kind deed". Glad I could make someone's day, I guess. I've never given it a second thought...you make a purchase, you hand the clerk the money. How hard is it? Well, maybe hard if the item is expensive or overpriced, but it's not the clerk's fault. Another sign of the degradation of society I guess. Cedar City must not be the gentile side of Utah.
I made it to Salt Lake City for my delivery and then headed over to the Flying J for a little shut eye. It was a decent haul up here from Los Angeles. The air is nice, the mountains are scenic and my on board computer just spit out an opportunity to Idaho Falls, Idaho. I hadn't counted on Idaho...the land of famous potatoes, but here was another personal frontier and another state closer to all 50. That's my goal. I'm looking for America where ever I can find it. What lay ahead would be one of the best legs of this trip out. Onward, ho...or IdahHO that it is.
Friday, September 18, 2009
California
I hadn't set foot in the Golden State for a long time, but when I stepped up to the coffee counter at the San Diego Pilot store near Chula Vista, I immediately got the feeling nothing had changed. There were about 8 different gourmet coffees from around the world with about 14 different kinds of flavored creams and double shot coffee enhancers. In addition, there were about 4 different expresso selections. So much for Maxwell House house blend! I had to rummage to find regular cream. There seemed to be a pleasant aroma around the store. Wait a minute, I thought this was a truck stop. My favorite was among the coffee choices and I opted for the Sumatra which is a blend of African beans with a bold stand and strong aromatic attribute. This was certainly a place for a coffee scientist. I enquired about the WIFI connection and a Pilot associate said it was in the adjoining Wendy's. I asked the Wendy's folks about it and they said the Pilot people would know about it. I sensed a California "airhead" thing going on here and decided not to fight it and get a USA Today instead. Once outside, I felt that cool California coastal breeze and warm sunshine. I yearned to adorn a blond wig and talk like Spicolli from Fast Times at Ridgemont High. I could picture myself on the beach in a PT Cruiser with wood panels and a surfboard on top with Endless Summer playing on the stereo. San Diego just might be the most weather perfect city in America.
Monday came and time to drop off the load on the edge of the Mexican border. I spoke with some of the warehouse workers in Spanish and gathered that most of them lived across the border and walked to work in the morning. One poor fellow looked like he had a few "dents" in his head with scars and a part of his ear bitten off...probably from being beat silly. It must be a rough life on the Mexican side these days. Probably no one is going across for vinyl upholstering anymore.
With midday arrived, time to head to head north to Los Angeles and get ready for another load. Travelling up I-5 was pleasant and it was interesting to see the Marines doing maneuvers off the side of the highway at Camp Pendleton. There were a number of communities along the way that looked like a prime place to be near the Pacific. The air quality seemed to decline, the closer I got to LA. Smog seemed to obscure the mountains and the view became dimmer.
There aren't a whole lot of places to put a truck down for the night in greater LA, so I had to travel to the north side in Ontario, CA and park it in a TA, Travel Centers of America. This one is massive. There are two centers on either side of I-10 to accommodate trucks coming in and out from all over the country. When I walked in, I was immediately reminded of the scene right out of the movie Total Recall with Arnold Schwarzenegger when he arrived on Mars. There was every type, shape and kind of human being you can imagine in this place. I walked around in what seemed like a carnival atmosphere and wandered into the TV room where a mini uprising was developing over programming. It was Monday night and the NFL fans were at odds with the wrestling fans. A fellow shouted "..it's Monday night and un-American NOT to be watching football" I kind of wanted to see the Dolphins-Colts match up myself, so I found a TA associate an inquired about a remote or changing the channel. He gave me a blank stare and shrugged his shoulders. Several others exhibited similar ambivalence. A group of football fans were at the TV display in the electronics section trying to figure how to change the channel behind a locked glass panel of TVs with wrestling on. They couldn't even come up with a key to that either! I slinked away and decided on a taco at the Bell. I never saw such disrespect to rest facilities as I saw here. What a zoo. Where's the Keeper!
For a no idle state, this was a dang noisy stop. There were trucks coming and going constantly all night long. Conveniently next to me was a freight rail line next to where I was parked and there were trains coming through with a loud rumble on the hour, blowing their horn! It was a wonder I got any sleep at all in this train wreck of a truck stop...no pun intended.
I woke early and decided to flee. Travelling down the 605 at 3:30am local time was crowded with morning traffic all the way to my destination at Los Alamitos near Long Beach! Los Alamitos is a tight and well manicured enclave. All the homes look well kept. At arrival, a little early, the Los Alamitos Donut Shop looked like a good choice to shake off a wacko night. It was there I met Mike Ciao and his lovely wife. With a bright smile, he asked what I would like. The display case was filled with a mile long arsenal of goodies and croissant sandwiches that made my eyes glaze over. I decided on the ham and cheese model with a cup of house blend coffee. As I bit into bakery heaven, Mike, haven seen my truck outside, quizzed me about my travels and work. He seemed genuinely interested in the details of my work. I felt like I was talking to a guy like me. I want to know everything myself. How things work. Why things are. What do the gears look like behind the closed panel. I'm not quick to accept things and move on. He wanted to know all about the towns and cities I've seen. No one on my travels had such questions. I was happy to answer them for him. It was time to go, and for a parting gift, I received a free chocolate donut. Dunkin Donuts and Krispy Kreme come nowhere close to what this man and his wife can bake.
Still early, I was able to catch up on a little shut eye at the shipper down the street. The next stop would be Salt Lake City, Utah. This trip would take me across the High Desert of California, through Las Vegas and around Cedar City and up I-15 then into Salt Lake. Osmond Country here I come. This trip was another un-seen, un-been notch to carve on the post.
Monday came and time to drop off the load on the edge of the Mexican border. I spoke with some of the warehouse workers in Spanish and gathered that most of them lived across the border and walked to work in the morning. One poor fellow looked like he had a few "dents" in his head with scars and a part of his ear bitten off...probably from being beat silly. It must be a rough life on the Mexican side these days. Probably no one is going across for vinyl upholstering anymore.
With midday arrived, time to head to head north to Los Angeles and get ready for another load. Travelling up I-5 was pleasant and it was interesting to see the Marines doing maneuvers off the side of the highway at Camp Pendleton. There were a number of communities along the way that looked like a prime place to be near the Pacific. The air quality seemed to decline, the closer I got to LA. Smog seemed to obscure the mountains and the view became dimmer.
There aren't a whole lot of places to put a truck down for the night in greater LA, so I had to travel to the north side in Ontario, CA and park it in a TA, Travel Centers of America. This one is massive. There are two centers on either side of I-10 to accommodate trucks coming in and out from all over the country. When I walked in, I was immediately reminded of the scene right out of the movie Total Recall with Arnold Schwarzenegger when he arrived on Mars. There was every type, shape and kind of human being you can imagine in this place. I walked around in what seemed like a carnival atmosphere and wandered into the TV room where a mini uprising was developing over programming. It was Monday night and the NFL fans were at odds with the wrestling fans. A fellow shouted "..it's Monday night and un-American NOT to be watching football" I kind of wanted to see the Dolphins-Colts match up myself, so I found a TA associate an inquired about a remote or changing the channel. He gave me a blank stare and shrugged his shoulders. Several others exhibited similar ambivalence. A group of football fans were at the TV display in the electronics section trying to figure how to change the channel behind a locked glass panel of TVs with wrestling on. They couldn't even come up with a key to that either! I slinked away and decided on a taco at the Bell. I never saw such disrespect to rest facilities as I saw here. What a zoo. Where's the Keeper!
For a no idle state, this was a dang noisy stop. There were trucks coming and going constantly all night long. Conveniently next to me was a freight rail line next to where I was parked and there were trains coming through with a loud rumble on the hour, blowing their horn! It was a wonder I got any sleep at all in this train wreck of a truck stop...no pun intended.
I woke early and decided to flee. Travelling down the 605 at 3:30am local time was crowded with morning traffic all the way to my destination at Los Alamitos near Long Beach! Los Alamitos is a tight and well manicured enclave. All the homes look well kept. At arrival, a little early, the Los Alamitos Donut Shop looked like a good choice to shake off a wacko night. It was there I met Mike Ciao and his lovely wife. With a bright smile, he asked what I would like. The display case was filled with a mile long arsenal of goodies and croissant sandwiches that made my eyes glaze over. I decided on the ham and cheese model with a cup of house blend coffee. As I bit into bakery heaven, Mike, haven seen my truck outside, quizzed me about my travels and work. He seemed genuinely interested in the details of my work. I felt like I was talking to a guy like me. I want to know everything myself. How things work. Why things are. What do the gears look like behind the closed panel. I'm not quick to accept things and move on. He wanted to know all about the towns and cities I've seen. No one on my travels had such questions. I was happy to answer them for him. It was time to go, and for a parting gift, I received a free chocolate donut. Dunkin Donuts and Krispy Kreme come nowhere close to what this man and his wife can bake.
Still early, I was able to catch up on a little shut eye at the shipper down the street. The next stop would be Salt Lake City, Utah. This trip would take me across the High Desert of California, through Las Vegas and around Cedar City and up I-15 then into Salt Lake. Osmond Country here I come. This trip was another un-seen, un-been notch to carve on the post.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
California or Bust
Saturday morning started with breakfast in Lordsburg, New Mexico. I stopped in, and found, probably the most laid-back cafe joint on this whole trip. Huevos Rancheros were on the menu with hot green or red sauce! Yeow! I had to order it. For the un-initiated, we're talking about Mexican style eggs. It's three eggs on top of a type of bar-b-qued beef with salsa and tortilla chips. I pounce like a leopard when I come across this dish. The waitress was friendly and accommodating, but the service was painfully slow. In my line of work, you get used to a slam it down, jack me up and shoot it down the highway type of pace. You forget what laid back is. You forget how to act. By the time the plate came, I was starting to grow an unruly attitude. But, when I stuck a fork in the immaculate arrangement of huevos beef and salsa combination, the crummy "I'm going to walk out of here" feeling disappeared quickly. Poof, gone! This was the best Huevos Rancheros plate I've ever had. All was forgiven. Time to sing the Eagles and Peaceful, Easy Feeling and ease Miss Freightliner down the road. I'll be dreaming of those Huevos Rancheros for some time.
The I-10 route doesn't give you much of New Mexico. You pass Las Cruces and before you know it, you're in Arizona. This part of the "Land of Enchantment" is a little different than the northern part of the state I remember from my Scout back-packin' days. It's a little more desert-like, but you still get the rolling brown mountains.
There it was, Arizona appeared, and I crossed in. A new state to add to my collection! Somehow, I managed to travel all around the dry one, but never set foot in the Grand Canyon State. I really enjoyed the desert side and the unusual mountain formations along the way. Tucson was the prize on this leg of the trip. What a nice little city. There is such color everywhere you look and even the bridge abutments are decorated with cement castings and color. Perfect southwestern landscaping dominates this gem. You'll find little to no grass here...the climate is not kind to anything of the Fescue or Zoysia ilk. Constant irrigation would be necessary and water has got to go for a premium price in a bone dry place like this.
My last stop in Arizona was a toasty one. Yuma is next to the California border and seems to be a bustling place. My friend Frank, who lives in Phoenix, says it has grown exponentially in the past decade. I'm not surprised, given the high cost of living and natural disasters that seem to always plague Cali. There certainly is a price to be paid for paradise. There are retirement mobile home parks all over the place. I saw a Taco place and had to stop and pop some down. When I got out of the truck, I thought I had stuck my head in an oven. Literally. I jumped back up and hit the outside temp button on the dash and it read 119. Yikes! That's a century plus nineteen for fun. Time to skip over to Senor Taco and skip back to the truck...real quick. I thought to myself, isn't this how we move when it's bitter cold? I must have looked like an idiot to the locals. Everyone here just kind of moves around like it's no big deal. Such is a native habitat.
Here we go, back out on I-8 over the Colorado River and into California. I was kind of disappointed with the California welcome sign. It looked like something New Jersey would put up. Small, Spartan and way too plain for what was once, the Mecca of America. Even their license plates are quite boring. They give out one with a white background with blue letters, numbers and the state name in script. No creativity, no state slogan or even a website. They probably don't need one, too many people here anyway. With that in mind, If I recall correctly, I do believe California has become a population minus state. That means more people are moving out than moving in. California hasn't had a net loss in many years. It's sort of sad to see a place price it's citizenry right out. The natural disasters don't help either. The earthquakes, wildfires and mudslides have got to keep people on a certain edge. Insurance has got to be ridiculously expensive. Then, there are the famous high-speed police chases. Maybe I'd get to see one, in person on a trip up to LA!
The sun was making its way down and I had one big pile of rocks to ride over before cruising into San Diego. That's what this mountain looked like. Imagine a bunch of river rock in a pile, and you can picture what I drove over. It was only 4000 feet, but the heat sent the temp up on the engine and I had to shut the air off. Drat. Time to pant like a dog. As I neared the top, the sun went down and the patron saint of cool appeared and waved his scepter and the temperature magically plunged 34 degrees! I like this guy!
I knew I was in San Diego by the aggressive traffic that suddenly appeared on what was now a muli-lane free for all. Having recently been in Texas, and driving a truck, the "Don't Mess With Texas" mantra entered my mind. I found myself fumbling for my cowboy hat. Wish I had long horns on the grill of this truck.
I easily found a nice Pilot Travel Center to hole up in until delivery on Monday. Cool air would be my comfort for the night. Throw open the windows and let the easy breezy coastal night air in. California, being the environmentally prominent state that it is, has a "no idle" rule. You can't run your truck for more than 5 minutes at a time. It's the law! So, now, I've got all this nice, cool, Cali air...and it's quiet! What a refreshing change, to be in a large truck stop with maybe a hundred trucks and there be no diesel drone all night and day! Had I have been a little more limber, you might have found me in a cross-legged yoga position doing the "hummmmmmm". I like this place.
The I-10 route doesn't give you much of New Mexico. You pass Las Cruces and before you know it, you're in Arizona. This part of the "Land of Enchantment" is a little different than the northern part of the state I remember from my Scout back-packin' days. It's a little more desert-like, but you still get the rolling brown mountains.
There it was, Arizona appeared, and I crossed in. A new state to add to my collection! Somehow, I managed to travel all around the dry one, but never set foot in the Grand Canyon State. I really enjoyed the desert side and the unusual mountain formations along the way. Tucson was the prize on this leg of the trip. What a nice little city. There is such color everywhere you look and even the bridge abutments are decorated with cement castings and color. Perfect southwestern landscaping dominates this gem. You'll find little to no grass here...the climate is not kind to anything of the Fescue or Zoysia ilk. Constant irrigation would be necessary and water has got to go for a premium price in a bone dry place like this.
My last stop in Arizona was a toasty one. Yuma is next to the California border and seems to be a bustling place. My friend Frank, who lives in Phoenix, says it has grown exponentially in the past decade. I'm not surprised, given the high cost of living and natural disasters that seem to always plague Cali. There certainly is a price to be paid for paradise. There are retirement mobile home parks all over the place. I saw a Taco place and had to stop and pop some down. When I got out of the truck, I thought I had stuck my head in an oven. Literally. I jumped back up and hit the outside temp button on the dash and it read 119. Yikes! That's a century plus nineteen for fun. Time to skip over to Senor Taco and skip back to the truck...real quick. I thought to myself, isn't this how we move when it's bitter cold? I must have looked like an idiot to the locals. Everyone here just kind of moves around like it's no big deal. Such is a native habitat.
Here we go, back out on I-8 over the Colorado River and into California. I was kind of disappointed with the California welcome sign. It looked like something New Jersey would put up. Small, Spartan and way too plain for what was once, the Mecca of America. Even their license plates are quite boring. They give out one with a white background with blue letters, numbers and the state name in script. No creativity, no state slogan or even a website. They probably don't need one, too many people here anyway. With that in mind, If I recall correctly, I do believe California has become a population minus state. That means more people are moving out than moving in. California hasn't had a net loss in many years. It's sort of sad to see a place price it's citizenry right out. The natural disasters don't help either. The earthquakes, wildfires and mudslides have got to keep people on a certain edge. Insurance has got to be ridiculously expensive. Then, there are the famous high-speed police chases. Maybe I'd get to see one, in person on a trip up to LA!
The sun was making its way down and I had one big pile of rocks to ride over before cruising into San Diego. That's what this mountain looked like. Imagine a bunch of river rock in a pile, and you can picture what I drove over. It was only 4000 feet, but the heat sent the temp up on the engine and I had to shut the air off. Drat. Time to pant like a dog. As I neared the top, the sun went down and the patron saint of cool appeared and waved his scepter and the temperature magically plunged 34 degrees! I like this guy!
I knew I was in San Diego by the aggressive traffic that suddenly appeared on what was now a muli-lane free for all. Having recently been in Texas, and driving a truck, the "Don't Mess With Texas" mantra entered my mind. I found myself fumbling for my cowboy hat. Wish I had long horns on the grill of this truck.
I easily found a nice Pilot Travel Center to hole up in until delivery on Monday. Cool air would be my comfort for the night. Throw open the windows and let the easy breezy coastal night air in. California, being the environmentally prominent state that it is, has a "no idle" rule. You can't run your truck for more than 5 minutes at a time. It's the law! So, now, I've got all this nice, cool, Cali air...and it's quiet! What a refreshing change, to be in a large truck stop with maybe a hundred trucks and there be no diesel drone all night and day! Had I have been a little more limber, you might have found me in a cross-legged yoga position doing the "hummmmmmm". I like this place.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Texas, Part 2 and A California Story
If Texas wasn't big enough, I still need another whole chapter to tell the story. Laredo wasn't too bad, temperature-wise this time around, if you consider 98 degrees an improvement. Compared to 107, it was. Something must be wrong with me, I'm actually getting used to this kind of weather. It was good practice for what I'd feel in Arizona. We'll get to that part. No treacherous tumble weed, Hawaiian shirted psychos or Tommy Chong look-a-likes this time around.
The beep on the Qualcomm gave me an opportunity I was happy to get. California here we come. Cali as my hip friends like to call it. 1400 beautiful miles beginning in Texas. I had a nice sunny ride up to San Antonio to pick up the load headed to the most weather perfect city in America. San Diego. I was excited to be headed to the coast. Life has just not taken me there since a road trip with my best buddies Rusty and Joe in the 80's. That trip is an entire book itself and was more fun than humans were supposed to have. To make a complicated trip easy to tell, in short, we started in LA and then went down to Tijuana, Mexico, where we saw geek neck chickens in storefront windows. A turnaround was in order and we then blazed a wide path all the way to San Francisco by way of Yosemite and Lake Tahoe. The pinnacle of that trip was dune buggies and the miles of sand dunes in Pismo Beach. At night, we stayed at the Shore Cliff Inn where I rolled myself up in a colorful Mexican blanket like a burrito that I had purchased for 8 bucks on a street corner in Tijuana. One delightful morning, we picked up hitch hikers near Big Sur on The Pacific Coast Highway. They turned out to be two fine young gentlemen who pulled a gun and announced they were going to hold us up. Joe was driving and when he heard the great news, he swung the steering wheel of the big white rental Buick LeSabre across the opposite lane in front of oncoming traffic three times and convinced them that we were all going over the cliff into the drink if they tried to rob us. We had to stop and let one of the potential perpetrators out so he could get sick on the side of the road. We told them if they behaved, we would give them a ride to Carmel. We did. I think Clint Eastwood was the Mayor of that upscale seaside community at the time. I'm sure he would have kept them in line if they stayed in town. Make my day. Throw in the Theme from The Good, The Bad and The Ugly if you prefer to go in that direction. After 19 days of Three Musketeer fun, we flew home out of San Francisco. Such are the memories of 28 year olds from New Jersey with the missing fear chip in the brain.
Back to Texas. Texas is one big arse state. It takes a long time to get across the Lone Star Nation, but the trip is worth it. When you cross into Tex from the eastern Louisiana side, there is a mileage sign on I-10 near Beaumont that says "El Paso 857". If there is a longer mileage sign out there, I haven't seen it. Big, long, unweilding...that's Texas. There is a statue of Sam Houston on I-45 near Houston. This is the biggest statue of a person I've ever seen....maybe the Statue of Liberty is bigger, but this one is enormous. Sam Houston was a larger than life guy. In short, in the 1800's, he was Governor of Tennessee then went to Texas and became Governor there. Has anyone else ever done that?
I was thoroughly awed at the western suburbs of San Antonio. There was a series of hills with magnificent homes perched atop. This is a place where you really get that Texas-Southwestern feel. Barrel, clay top roofs blend with colorful stucco dwellings. Texas likes to line its interstates around the metro areas with service roads filled with all kinds of businesses...so there's a lot to look at along the way. I saw a Masserati dealership in San Antone. To me, that says a lot about what kind of money you might find there. It doesn't hurt that the speed limit opens up to 80 west of town. But, that's only first gear in one of those exotic Italian sports cars.
I-10 through West Texas offers some great hilly scenery on what they call plateaus. At the end of Texas, you're in the massively spread out metro of El Paso. Marty Robbins' old song "El Paso" played in my head as I rode through. I kept an eye out for Rose's Cantina. I didn't see it, but I'm sure it's there. Felita didn't come out of nowhere either.
As I crossed into the "Badlands of New Mexico", I felt a wistful sense of farewell to a state...err...nation I called home for a week. It's big diverse place where I feel I've barely put a dent in, even though I've driven the entire stretch of I-35 from the Oklahoma line to Laredo and all of I-10 from the "Triangular Galaxy" of Beaumont, Port Arthur and Lake Charles in the east to El Paso in the west. Adios Texas, we'll see you soon.
The beep on the Qualcomm gave me an opportunity I was happy to get. California here we come. Cali as my hip friends like to call it. 1400 beautiful miles beginning in Texas. I had a nice sunny ride up to San Antonio to pick up the load headed to the most weather perfect city in America. San Diego. I was excited to be headed to the coast. Life has just not taken me there since a road trip with my best buddies Rusty and Joe in the 80's. That trip is an entire book itself and was more fun than humans were supposed to have. To make a complicated trip easy to tell, in short, we started in LA and then went down to Tijuana, Mexico, where we saw geek neck chickens in storefront windows. A turnaround was in order and we then blazed a wide path all the way to San Francisco by way of Yosemite and Lake Tahoe. The pinnacle of that trip was dune buggies and the miles of sand dunes in Pismo Beach. At night, we stayed at the Shore Cliff Inn where I rolled myself up in a colorful Mexican blanket like a burrito that I had purchased for 8 bucks on a street corner in Tijuana. One delightful morning, we picked up hitch hikers near Big Sur on The Pacific Coast Highway. They turned out to be two fine young gentlemen who pulled a gun and announced they were going to hold us up. Joe was driving and when he heard the great news, he swung the steering wheel of the big white rental Buick LeSabre across the opposite lane in front of oncoming traffic three times and convinced them that we were all going over the cliff into the drink if they tried to rob us. We had to stop and let one of the potential perpetrators out so he could get sick on the side of the road. We told them if they behaved, we would give them a ride to Carmel. We did. I think Clint Eastwood was the Mayor of that upscale seaside community at the time. I'm sure he would have kept them in line if they stayed in town. Make my day. Throw in the Theme from The Good, The Bad and The Ugly if you prefer to go in that direction. After 19 days of Three Musketeer fun, we flew home out of San Francisco. Such are the memories of 28 year olds from New Jersey with the missing fear chip in the brain.
Back to Texas. Texas is one big arse state. It takes a long time to get across the Lone Star Nation, but the trip is worth it. When you cross into Tex from the eastern Louisiana side, there is a mileage sign on I-10 near Beaumont that says "El Paso 857". If there is a longer mileage sign out there, I haven't seen it. Big, long, unweilding...that's Texas. There is a statue of Sam Houston on I-45 near Houston. This is the biggest statue of a person I've ever seen....maybe the Statue of Liberty is bigger, but this one is enormous. Sam Houston was a larger than life guy. In short, in the 1800's, he was Governor of Tennessee then went to Texas and became Governor there. Has anyone else ever done that?
I was thoroughly awed at the western suburbs of San Antonio. There was a series of hills with magnificent homes perched atop. This is a place where you really get that Texas-Southwestern feel. Barrel, clay top roofs blend with colorful stucco dwellings. Texas likes to line its interstates around the metro areas with service roads filled with all kinds of businesses...so there's a lot to look at along the way. I saw a Masserati dealership in San Antone. To me, that says a lot about what kind of money you might find there. It doesn't hurt that the speed limit opens up to 80 west of town. But, that's only first gear in one of those exotic Italian sports cars.
I-10 through West Texas offers some great hilly scenery on what they call plateaus. At the end of Texas, you're in the massively spread out metro of El Paso. Marty Robbins' old song "El Paso" played in my head as I rode through. I kept an eye out for Rose's Cantina. I didn't see it, but I'm sure it's there. Felita didn't come out of nowhere either.
As I crossed into the "Badlands of New Mexico", I felt a wistful sense of farewell to a state...err...nation I called home for a week. It's big diverse place where I feel I've barely put a dent in, even though I've driven the entire stretch of I-35 from the Oklahoma line to Laredo and all of I-10 from the "Triangular Galaxy" of Beaumont, Port Arthur and Lake Charles in the east to El Paso in the west. Adios Texas, we'll see you soon.
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