Road Trippin Blues

It's my favorite thing to do.

It's my least favorite thing to do.

Road trippin'. That's what I'm talkin' 'bout.

Putting dust in the rear view.

And blasting your CD's so loud as you sing along that there is absolutely NO question that your voice is as good, if not better, than the artist's.

An example. I sound like Susan Boyle AND Adam Lambert while driving along singing at the top of my lungs.

Honest.

I can even hit those Lambert high notes and do the mouth-wide-open-tongue thing.

Perfectly.

It's flawless.

Personal, private karaoke. There's no better way to test your voice range. And mine's amazing.

I love a road trip with music blasting.

It's the nights after, with the same songs repeating over and over in my dreams, that bother me.

Those road trippin', night blastin' blues.

A Little Behind

I am typically late, always running a few minutes after deadline. This last trip home took 3 days instead of 1 day, or 2 days later than planned, which makes it the latest I have been in a long time. (We won't even talk about the weeks late arrival several years ago on a trip to visit the Hunt's). If I was young and cocky, I might buy the bumper sticker: "Always late, but worth the wait." (Thank heavens I am neither young OR cocky!)

It appears, along with my character trait of always being late, I am also an asphalt gypsy - I love to become one with the road. I have an affinity for asphalt beneath my rolling tires. I have already admitted a penchant to see "dust in the rearview" in earlier posts so this expanded description should not be shocking news to anyone.

I think it's obvious that I am a road trip babe. This seems like a relatively nonevasive, nonaggressive pasttime. I mean, I am not a downhill skier or a go-cart racer, I am a road tripper. I am not a dirt biker, I am an asphalt driver.

I remember when my good friend, Dee Hunt, had to give up winter skiing because her knees were going out. And I also remember a friend leaving his favorite game of tennis behind because of the arthritis in his ankles and elbows. They were not able to put in the long, hard hours of their favorite pasttimes any longer. Age had caught up to them. Aches and pains were winning.

It seems that age and its aches and pains has caught up with me too, but it's a bit embarrassing. I am about to leave my long days of road tripping behind, because of well, because of my behind! I just can't sit that long anymore! I wish it wasn't true, I wish I could sit longer, I wish I was a little behind rather than days or weeks late, and for that matter, I wish I had a little behind (something I was never blessed with).

But seriously. I am not kidding. This is not a joke, as funny as it might seem, I am serious. My ankles swell, my legs hurt, my behind gets sore, my back aches...and all I am doing in sitting and driving and checking my rearview once in a while for dust clouds. If I get tired I rock out to country western or toe tapping blues, and my whole body dances in my seat - on my behind to be exact.

So, my friends may not be able to downhill ski or serve a perfect game, but I can no longer drive for 12 hours. Even with pillows propped behind me and tucked beneath me. I just can't do it. I lose a day of my life everytime I try, maybe two days. One day to drive, one day to recoup.

No more 12 hour road trips for this redhead. Not by myself, anyway. I have to leave the asphalt for awhile, and it's the ass' fault that I do. (Pardon the silly play on words, I couldn't resist). So it's down to short road trips for this ass-fault babe.

Now, if someone wants to come along and help drive, or if you can find me a four hour road trip, I am there! And you never know, I might be on time!

Asphault driving. It's in my blood. Road trippin. Dancin' in and ON my seat. Oh yeah, I love it!

Now I just have to convince my behind.

Sir Mix-A-Lot "Baby Got Back"

The Chipmunks "Baby Got Back"

Happy Hippo with Dancing Dog "Baby Got Back"

Gilbert and Sullivanesque "Baby Got Back"

Just me and Willie

There was a time in my life when I ached for road trips....and the beach, but that's a topic for another post.

I still love road trips. They clear my mind. As a friend says (more or less) there's nothing like seeing dust in the rear view mirror.

Well, yes, pretty much, sort of...that's almost true. The past few months have given me ample opportunity to see dust in my rear view mirror as I have trekked back and forth and back and forth between Albuquerque and Salt Lake City as if it was a normal commute. At this point, I am ready to see my rear view mirror laying in the dust somewhere, while I sit on a camp chair and drink something wonderful with NOWHERE to go!

Life has been hectic, but every trip has been worth it, no matter how much I am complaining at this moment. It could be a result of my sore bottom, a lack of sleep, two new lines beneath my eyes, a dwindling back account due to so much travel, or..........MAYBE it's because I got a ticket last night.

Yep, I did. I was not happy about it either. No signs, no warning, two lanes, but I was ticketed for passing in a no passing zone.

If it hadn't been so late, if it hadn't been dark, if he hadn't looked like a typical, irritatingly macho and very skinny UT trooper, I probably would have done a quick U-Turn after signing on the dotted line and gone back to take pictures.

But I was tired, and he was ornery and I just kept moving forward, irritated as hell, but moving forward.

I have always enjoyed dust in my rear view, and I am certain I will again....but last night, I enjoyed seeing that skinny uniform disappear IN the dust in my rear view. And it won't be long before I am back in the saddle, so to speak.

I may not ACHE for road trips these days and Southern Utah will be a bit richer when I pay my fine and I will be a bit poorer, but no one can take away my love of seeing the dust in my rear view. Not even a skinny uniformed trooper in the middle of the night.

On the road again...........but I am taking my camp chair along.

Willie Nelson "On the Road Again"