End of the trail

Friday, September 30 (Day 14) — This will probably be the shortest entry of any I have written this vacation, mainly because there isn't much to write about. As far as our vacation goes, it was pretty much done yesterday with our drive through Las Vegas. This was merely the cleanup phase of the trip where we figured out how to get home in the shortest amount of time possible. The last thing any of us was in the mood for was dragging into Oakley at 9 p.m. after driving hundreds of miles through the Central Valley. It made yesterday's decision to drive as far as Barstow seem all the wiser as it shortened the final leg of our trip by about 140 miles.

We celebrated the beginning of our final day of life on the road the way we did just about every other morning: with a continental breakfast in the hotel lobby. I am quite sure that I won't want to look at another bagel and cream cheese packet, prepackaged pastry, self-serve waffle maker or orange juice dispenser for at least another year. I can't wait to return to my staple diet of toast, sugary breakfast cereals and nonfat milk. We got everything in the car and were ready to head out of Barstow by 9:30 a.m. We made our first stop the Von's drug store a couple of blocks from the hotel to pick up ice and drinks for what we expected would be a long, hot drive up I-5. I added five postcards to my collection — the last ones I would buy on this vacation, as it turned out. We were heading out of town of Historic U.S. Highway 66, which is what Main Street is through Barstow. They have little white signs painted on the asphalt every few intersections to let you know what road you're on, so I stopped to grab a photo of one of them. I joked with Ben that the road just followed us everywhere we went. It certainly felt like it at times. I wish now that we could have driven Route 66 all the way back to home instead of that awful I-5. But more on that in a moment.

We found Highway 58 just west of Barstow and followed it toward Bakersfield. I have been doing so good on gas mileage this vacation that I didn't think I would need more until Bakersfield, which was about 100 miles away. We put on some country music on Roni's MP3 player and drove silently through the desert. Roni is still trying to decide whether she'll be able to attend her father's funeral in New York on Monday. It would mean buying a last-minute plane ticket and leaving Ben and me to fend for each other for three days. Not sure yet how that will play out, but I'm leaving the decision completely up to her. We’ll make do any way she decides.

The other reason for our subdued mood in the car was that we are all just physically exhausted from our two-week odyssey. Not that we haven't had a great time, but this wasn't one of those lounge-around-on-the-beach sort of trips. It involved a ton of driving and long days filled with sightseeing activities. I mentioned the other day how you begin to feel the gentle tug of home once you know it's time to begin heading back. That tug becomes a full-throated grab around your neck when you see the home stretch drive looming before you. We wanted nothing more than to get home today, so it was pedal to the metal and no dilly dallying at roadside attractions.

Not that there are any roadside attractions where we were headed. The advantage to having half a tank of gas when we departed Barstow was that it would get me to Bakersfield without stopping. The disadvantage was that now I had absolutely no excuse to stop in Mojave, where we fueled on Day 1. No final opportunities to see the wind farms up close or check out the planes in the air park, or shoot pictures of the Joshua trees. Nope, we zipped right past it and headed uphill to Tehachapi. On the way east we noted that the city claims to be the wind capital of the world. On the trip east there is a sign that declares the town the "home of four seasons." I detoured off Highway 58 to drive through the heart of downtown, remembering fondly our visit here with Ben when he was just four years old. The town has grown some at its fringes, but it is still a friendly little community perfect for someone like me who loves trains and wind energy. Both are well represented in Tehachapi.

We did wind up stopping for gas at an Arco station in Bakersfield. I got it for $2.88 a gallon, which turned out to be the cheapest price of any of the stations we encountered. It was shortly after noon when we hooked up with I-5. And here's where the tone of the day's drive was set.

I don't have enough bad words in my vocabulary to describe the conditions on the interstate. The road itself is in terrible shape. And the drivers are some of the rudest and most reckless I've encountered anywhere. I can think of at least four instances today when someone cut me off or came roaring up on my rear bumper while I was driving in the slow lane so as to cut off someone else. It was a combination of Friday commuters and weekenders getting an early start on their fishing trips and the like, combined with the California practice of doing 10 mph over the limit because everyone else is doing it and because you can get away with it. With a 75 mph limit in most places, this meant you had drivers doing at least 85  mph on a bumpy 2-lane highway. I watched road-raging motorists try to pass others by speeding through the slow lane and darting in and out of traffic. I was nearly run off the road by some moron who thought it was OK to straddle to center line to squeeze between two other lanes of traffic. But the worst incident was the guy in the utility pickup truck who was gaining ground on me in the fast lane as I was attempting to pass a fleet of slower big rigs. Things probably would have worked out fine except that suddenly everyone had to slow down for an accident on the center divide. Traffic wasn't too backed up, but there were a fair number of rubberneckers. I had to slow up while in the fast lane, intent on not ramming into the bumper of the car in front of me. As I was driving perhaps 30 mph past the accident, the guy in the pickup started flashing his lights at me to move over so he could get by. I didn't want to slide over into the slow lane because I would have been wedged between a couple of trucks. I didn't want to speed past the accident for fear of causing another crash. But the flashing of the lights of course brought forth my defiant attitude. I figured if he was so intent on racing around me during unsafe conditions then he could drive in the slow lane to do it. He hesitated a moment before wedging his truck through the narrow gap to pass me, flipping me the bird as he went.

Just too many people like that on I-5 today. Most of the time I was able to avoid them by hanging out in the slow lane with the trucks, but there were some very slow trucks, and eventually you had to pass if you didn't want to be stuck behind them all afternoon. It was like that for close to 200 miles as we drove from Buttonwillow to Tracy. It used to be said that New York drivers are the worst in the nation, but I think that title goes to California drivers hands down.

It was the constant having to be on guard and the sheer boredom of driving on scenery-deficient I-5 that sapped much of what little energy I had left. It was sheer will to get home that kept me going all afternoon. We pulled off at a Red Robin restaurant for lunch somewhere before the Highway 152 interchange just so I could get a break from the high-speed chess game. Never again for fighting the rude drivers and truckers on I-5. It was almost enough to spoil the upbeat mood generated by the rest of the trip. Almost. Once I-5 branched at the I-580 split we left behind a lot of the crazies. I cut through Mountain House and Byron before making the final 10-mile crawl through Brentwood and Oakley on Highway 4. We pulled into our own driveway at 5:19 p.m., 3,212 miles from where we had started the morning of Sept. 17.

All appeared to be well with the house. The cats and turtle were still alive and happy to see us. It is sort of a shock walking into all the clutter when you have been living out of hotel rooms with their spartan furnishings and maid service for two weeks. But at least we can sleep in our own beds tonight. There is absolutely no food worth eating in the refrigerator or cupboards, and no one was in the mood to do a big trip to the grocery store tonight. So after I'd had a couple of hours to unwind, Ben and I drove into Antioch to pick up Blizzard ice cream treats from Dairy Queen. You'd think that after all those days of nothing but fast food and restaurants we'd be ready to get away from more. I am, seriously. Tomorrow I plan to start a diet for at least a few weeks to shed the pounds I know I've put on during the vacation.

This evening I sorted through our pile of souvenirs, tracking down all the stray bags of postcards I'd picked up from everyplace we went. There are well over 200-300, but I haven't made an official count yet. (Addendum: Actually, 460+) Roni thinks I'm crazy for having bought so many, that I just wasted a lot of cash for souvenirs that will just be lost in the bottom of a shoebox somewhere. Yes, a lot of those cards will end up at the bottom of a shoebox, but I will read the back of every one first. And at least some of them will end up on my bulletin board in the writing sanctuary. I've already added a bunch of new magnets to my metal filing cabinet. There is just something about the fun of exploring our country that I'll never be able to shake. The cards are my backup for all the photos I wish I could take of the places we visit and will never be able to do adequately.

So the final tally is 3,212 miles, five states, and two state capitals in 14 days. And a 32,500-word travelogue to document most of it. It took us from the vast miles of Mojave Desert nothingness to the pristine dunes of White Sands National Monument, to the art studios of Santa Fe, to the dusty streets of ancient Western ghost towns, There were plazas filled with adobe homes, rocks adorned with 1,000-year-old petroglyphs, Indian trading posts, roadside gimmicks, sidetrips on a famous American highway. We were up with the dawn to watch hot air balloons, awake after dark to see skies filled with stars. We stood shoulder to shoulder with 30-foot saguaro cacti, bought snacks from a street vendor in Juarez,, Mexico, and gawked at the pleasure palaces in Las Vegas. Not a restful vacation by any means, but certainly one filled with plenty of discovery. And those memories and more we'll keep with us for the rest of our lives.

The End