Texas
Next, we headed for Texas. Now, you are probably beginning to think, ‘Don’t you ever stop at a motel and sleep?’ The answer is: no. First, we didn’t have enough money to afford a bed every night. At that rate we have burned through our cash in a week. So, we pretty much kept rolling. One could drive while the other slept or just took a break. Sometimes we just got out of the car and stretched out on the ground to relax. It wasn’t too bad. We had all the comforts of a prolonged camping trip. I know that sounds like a lot of fun. I learned to shave with Ivory soap and have continued the practice to this day. Ivory soap is a lot cheaper than scented shaving cream. We could bath in the rivers and lakes that we encountered, and often we used service station restrooms for more detailed grooming when we would stop for gas. And, of course, traveling as fast as we did we stopped for gas at least twice a day. We had the cash to purchase basic foods in grocery stores. We consumed a lot of milk, bread and beans. And gas was still in the twenty cent range. A fill-up cost about three dollars.
Other events that stand out in memory as we approached California were: the injured Mexican, the Painted Desert, the Petrified Forest, the Grand Canyon, and — oh yes, the transmission went out. Let me tell you about these.
Transmission Trouble
The transmission change was perfunctory. Just like the clutch job. The steps are: 1) find a junk yard with the transmission, 2) remove the transmission from the junker, 3) remove the transmission from our Ford, 4) install transmission from the junker in our Ford, 5) hope the transmission replacement works. It did. Back on the road again. What could possibly go wrong now? I loved the little junkyard — it was a lifesaver.
Big Nature Events
The most mind twisting experiences on the trip westward were the unique geological features of the landscape. Painted Desert, Petrified Forest, and Grand Canyon were of course beautiful to look at. The mind twisting part came from trying to get my mind around the dynamics and time span that were essential to creating these awesome features. I still maintain images of these features in my mind and trying to contemplate the forces that created these features still throws my mind into a quandary. Speaking of which…
Uh-O! Three more events: the Indian school and children, lost money, and…
Saloon Scene in Flagstaff
I wanted to see Flagstaff. That name had always resonated with me and I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to see the place. The beauty of this place was even beyond the images conjured up by the name. I remember tall evergreen forests, steep mountains, and a virtually unspoiled landscape. The roads and streets at that time were narrow and didn’t seem to detract from the beauty of the natural landscape and thus created a good feeling in me for the place. I am afraid to go back now because of the environmental destruction that I fear has taken place.
The night came on and at this high elevation it turned chilly. So we began to look for a little warmth and food. The only thing that presented itself was a brightly lit saloon. It had been a hard day so we decided to go in and observe the local customs. The place was hopping. These people were having fun. I’ve never seen anything in any wild west movie to compare with this place. Everybody seemed to be in full action mode. These westerners were certainly more uninhibited than anything I had ever witnessed in East Tennessee. Of course in Tennessee they had laws that prevented this wild kind of behavior.
The revelry was really getting wild when a new figure appeared on the scene. No, it was not the sheriff. It was the local ‘Fire and Brimstone’ preacher. He came prepared. He went from table to table with his message and at the top of his lungs he informed the ‘sinners’ of their shortcomings, such as the wicked nature of their behavior, and proclaimed their inevitable destination if they didn’t take steps immediately to alter the course of their lives. Then, I guess because no one was paying attention to him he came to our table. We were the only ones not preoccupied with the wild women and large glasses of liquor. I don’t remember what we were eating but it was probably a hamburger. This didn’t present a threat or even a distraction, so we could talk. I don’t remember the exact details of the conversation, but I think he put us up for the night in some safe house for drifters. Anyway, the next morning we were on our way out of town and heading into the desert.
Old Mexican
Back in lower elevations the scene changes. No more giant evergreen forest. We are back in the small trees and scrub land.
As we zipped along in the Arizona desert another event presented itself that has left a lasting impression. Cruising along with the highway all to ourselves we spotted a car off the road about a mile ahead. As we approached the car we could see a man bending over a fender — the left front fender — and he was partially in the highway.
He was positioned like he was leaning on his car and couldn’t stand up. As we approached his position never changed. It became obvious to us that he was in some trouble — obviously sick or something. Well, it was a very hot day and the brown, largely barren landscape was draining. An older man could pass out from exertion in a place like this. As we approached the man did not move, did not respond to us in any way. Upon getting closer we could see that he had been trying to change a tire. We helped him to sit down and we changed the tire, put away his jack and helped him get situated in the car. Apparently he spoke no English so communication was limited. Perhaps he had also been frightened that we might rob or harm him and his wife (who was apparently in the car also). With a little help from us he was able to show some initiative. As I recall his body posture became more relaxed and he took his seat behind the steering wheel. With no other apparent needs that we could manage and having done all we could see to do we left. But we left him with a serviceable car and the knowledge that this was his environment. I expect he made it home.
Lost Money
We had stopped at an inviting river in the low mountains of New Mexico to take a swim, refresh and clean up a bit. My partner had emptied his pockets and placed the contents on top of the car. After the swim we dressed and climbed back into the car and took off. After about three miles, Dork realized what he had done with his money, pulled to the side of the road and checked the top of the car. Of course — no money. We turned around and went back to the swimming spot. Ah ha, the money (billfold and all) had fallen off the car as we pulled out of the parking area. What a relief. This is the kind of relief you can’t get from BC Headache Powder.
Indian School
As we motored on through the mountains near Gallup we were on a narrow two lane road winding through a beautiful, thickly forested area and just wrapped up in the mystery of the place, the rugged beauty, and the sense of adventure. Along one stretch of this highway we came upon a small white clapboard school. It must have been recess because the school yard was full of little Indian children. The scene was so interesting that I had the notion that when I graduated from college I wanted to come to New Mexico and teach in an Indian school. I will never forget the scene we encountered in Gallup. The Indians were in the midst of a huge celebration — parades and all. This included what seemed like thousands of people in full Indian regalia. The streets were choked with these colorful parades. It was colorful beyond description. It made me want to stay and become an Indian. But of course, I could not do that. The chief would not give up his position and I didn’t want to be a brave and have to take orders.
What Is Going On Here
One more memorable event: We had been driving at night in higher elevations and the temperature was rather pleasant. It was around midnight. However, as we approached the Nevada-California border we began to notice a rise in the temperature. This gave me a strange, eerie sensation, and this late at night, this quiet, and the build up of stifling heat — Have I discovered the road to hell? I was used to temperature declining with nighttime and wondered what was going on. I always had tried to find a logical explanation for those things I did not readily comprehend, so I decided to make the same effort in this situation. By the time we pulled into Needles, CA the temperature was over 100 degrees F. But Needles was a recognizable American city. Not that American cities do not have those sections that are a lot like what hell must be, but we never encountered a section like that in Needles. Needles, of course, is in the desert, and at a very low elevation (500 feet above sea level). There was no nighttime breeze that night. Altogether, this was a very unusual event for someone from the more temperate southeastern mountains of the USA.
All these variables: the desert, low elevation and high daytime temperature resulted in high night time summer temperature.
Needles: I had heard of Needles, but now I had some physical and sensory-perceptual responses to add to my conceptual knowledge of the place, as well as my fear of the descent into hell. Could this be an omen? Well, it did cross my mind — but it didn’t slow me down.
Out of the Desert
Leaving Needles and the desert environment of Arizona and Nevada, we pushed on into California. I never paid more than cursory attention to road numbers. We just rambled. I do remember Barstow and Bakersfield. My friend had an acquaintance or relative in San Francisco, so we decided to swing by and pay our respects. While we failed to make contact (he must have heard we were coming), I had another one of those encounters with local climatic change that left the opposite impression on me. As we neared the city the temperature began to drop. With the top down and wearing nothing but a T-shirt and jeans I became very uncomfortable. This was another lasting impression. I took a sudden interest in ocean currents and upwelling ocean currents and coastal geography.
We rolled on out of San Francisco the same night and headed north. The next event of note was just the awesome beauty of northern California — the topography, the awesome redwood forests, and the beautiful mountains, rivers and creeks — breathtaking.
Then we encountered Lake Shasta and Mt. Shasta. Awesome. My vocabulary is inadequate to describe the breathtaking character of these magnificent creations in the midst of the natural wonder that is northern California. Go see for yourself. What beautiful sights — two awesome sights.
At the lake we wandered around a bit just taking in the sites. My cohart called my attention to a wallet left in a parked car and suggested we could use the money. I nixed that and told him it was time for us to move on. We didn’t need to start asking for trouble. Sometimes a little gentle persuasion is all that is needed to turn a good mind back to the right path.
So, we did. We left — with a clear conscience — heading north to Eugene, the home of the University of Oregon. It seems as though it rained continually in this part of the west coast. This part of the trip was rather uneventful. However at this point we decided to turn eastward, cross the Coast range, the Cascades and head into the mighty Rocky Mountains. The mountains I especially remember are the Three Sisters — Mighty peaks rising prominently above the high ranges. Looking back I can understand how this area came to be labeled ‘rainforest’ — plenty of forest and plenty of rain on the ocean side.
Somewhere in this part of the ramble, we picked up a hitchhiker. He wanted to get in out of the rain and he had money and was willing to buy the gas for a ride. He rode with us for about a day until we discovered that he was buying gas with stolen credit cards. I think we dropped him around Idaho Falls. We just drove away and left him at one of our rest stops. I guess the guiding principle in this situation was: if you don’t want to attract trouble, avoid hanging out with trouble. We left trouble standing by the highway hitching a ride eastward, but we felt a lot lighter. My rationale: He was in no worse shape than when we picked him up. I don’t think I could have reformed him.
Map of a Mountain Man 