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March 10, 2000
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road trip There is something about a road trip that makes you feel young and foolish. You feel like you are getting away with something. Work was mostly presenting to people to make them understand what we are selling. Did I succeed? I doubt it from the looks I got. I left a little early so we could miss the traffic (a euphemism for the parking lot that IH35 from Austin to Dallas becomes on Friday night). I can't say that we were all that successful. Mopac was stop and go. Traffic was very heavy. Seven Round Rock police cars zipped down 1325 with lights flashing. Forrest made a few business calls. Anymore, wherever you go, everyone has two or three phones. Les had a car phone and a cell phone. Forrest and I both had our cell phones. Even my parents have cell phones now (because I bought them, terrified that they were driving around the metroplex without one). I use mine rarely. Forrest and my friends don't seem to use theirs much. Other people, though. Geez! Wednesday I was getting gas at a full service station. Yes, they still exist and they wash the windows, look under the hood, check the tires. Why do I mention that? Because on Wednesday, my attendant spoke rapid Spanish on his cell phone almost the whole time he was adding air to tires and cleaning windows. He hung up and said in perfect, unaccented English, "That will be sixteen dollars even." Anyway, the road trip. We were riding in a 1999 Suburban. I had magazines, books about New York. We had CDs and a stereo Les said cost more than several cars he'd owned. We were buddies, Forrest and Les and I, and if we were stuck in traffic, we'd just play country music, sing along and talk. Les has done a lot of stuff and knows a lot of different things. I asked him what he hadn't done. Quote of the day. We stopped at the Czech Stop. (Exit 353 if you are counting.) The sky was dark and threatening and a few spits of rain were falling. We got some sausage rolls, I got a couple of boxes of baked goods for my parents, the guys got coffee and I bought a map of Dallas. It rained really, really hard for a few miles and there was tons of traffic. Then it stopped and there were a couple of pretty rainbows. Les said two rainbows meant someone was going to get married. We rolled on up IH35 and in a blink we'd found the hotel where the guys were going to a seminar about some investment software. They checked in and we drove through a part of near north Dallas where I once lived. Everything looked unsettlingly familar and yet not. Floods of different memories. We went to lower Greenville and it was jumping with people and cars. We settled on The Grape, a wine bistro that is over 25 years old, and thus existed before I left the area (in late '75). It seemed to me to be an institution then but actually was only established in 1972 or so. I have been back in the interim. We were seated immediately while Les consigned the behemoth to the valet. We were willing to sit on the patio or it would have been thirty minutes. The patio was surrounded with a plastic curtain and a long heater overhead occasionally gave a rush of dry heat. We got a bottle of 1997 St. Georges St. Emillion. There was doubt on first taste. Our soup arrived, though. With my mushroom soup, the wine rocked. I was in a simple French bistro somewhere in the provinces. We had some delightful calamari with a spicy oriental kind of sauce. My pork was denouement after that, I was already transported. To make my reverie complete, the guys at the next table spoke what was possibly French or a similar language or perhaps heavily accented English. I'm glad The Grape is still there and that it still pleases me. So few things are like that. After dinner, we drove to Mesquite. More memories. More streets vaguely familiar yet different. My parents and my Aunt Ann and Uncle E.C. were sitting around talking, waiting for us. They'd been to dinner to celebrate Ann & E.C.'s 34th wedding anniversary. They married when both were finishing military careers. I spent the night with Mom and Dad and the guys went to the hotel where their seminar was being held. Mom and Dad and I talked about their move. They seem to be excited about it. Mom has boxes everywhere.
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"I've never shot a grizzly bear." Les Reese,On Road Trip to Dallas 3/10/2000 |
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road rainbow 1
road rainbow 2
road rainbow 3
road rainbow 4
road warrior
food at the end of the road |
