When I think of road trips, I can’t help but think about my dad. He loved them. Which is a good thing because road trips were the only kind of travel our family could afford.
Over the years, we graduated from well-used station wagons to new but small sedans to ultimately a gently-used giant passenger van that was basically outfitted for white trash royalty. That van could haul kids, coolers, luggage, and whatever random junk my parents decided might be useful once we got wherever we were going.
It also hauled a kid who regularly got sick on road trips.
It was not uncommon for me to turn a worrying shade of green somewhere between point A and point B. My parents would keep an eye on me, ask a few questions, maybe crack a window. But we never changed course. Not once. We always arrived at our destination on schedule, or even slightly ahead of schedule.
Looking back, I admire my dad’s determination and drive. My mom had it too, but it was quieter, more passive-aggressive.
Now that both of my parents are gone, I miss their spunky ‘let’s do this’ attitude toward hitting the road hard. I also miss their care, especially when I fall under the weather. Which is exactly what happened yesterday while I was white-knuckling it over Mount Shasta.
The rain was light but steady, which made the interstate slick as glass.
At least it felt that way to me. I’m pretty sure I was the only person on the road who was scared shitless. Everyone else flew past me and my little red Kia hatchback like the conditions were perfectly fine.
Eventually I made it through the pass and crossed into Oregon. The moment I did, I pulled off the road at a rest stop and took a nap. For three hours.
When I woke up, it became very clear there was no way I had the energy for another two plus hours of driving. So I booked a hotel less than five miles away in Ashland, Oregon. Then I slept for another three hours before finally venturing out in search of vittles.
This morning I feel a lot behind schedule. But I’ve given myself permission to not make it to Seattle today if getting there requires pushing myself too hard.
Road trips are supposed to be an adventure, not a punishment.
This morning, I also feel very loved. So many dears, nears, and queers have checked in on me over the past few days. Those calls, messages, and texts have meant more than anyone will ever know.
I also felt loved and protected by my dad when I checked into the hotel last night.
He passed away nearly forty years ago, but he “showed up” in the most unexpected way. In the form of some bathroom tiles.
My dad was the head foreman at Dal-Tile when I was a kid, and this ugly but iconic pattern was one of their biggest sellers back then. It may not win any design awards today, but I know firsthand how much hard work and love went into those little squares.
When I spotted them in the bathroom of the place I stayed, I immediately knew I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
For a moment it felt like my dad was looking out for me. Like he had left me a little visual reminder that he is still part of my story, even all these years later.
So thank you, Dad.
And thank you to everyone cheering this road trip on from afar.
Keep calm and drive on!
Clint 🌈✌️
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Michael Horvich, I appreciate you inviting me to share some of my “writer’s journey.” Much love and light, kind sir!
BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY
04-11 = Christine Hallquist (1956- ) = American politician 🌈
04-11 = Glenway Wescott (1901-1987) = American writer 🌈
04-11 = Joel Grey (1932- ) = American actor, singer, dancer, and director 🌈
04-11 = Michael Callen (1955-1993) = American singer-songwriter, author, and activist 🌈
MAN CRUSH OF THE DAY
“It is not love, but lack of love which is blind.”
Glenway Wescott
Clint.....just do NOT pull off into some half deserted motel called Bates Motel especially if it has a gothic mansions on a hill in the moonlight behind it 😲😲 Cheers DougT 🏴🇬🇧
So sorry to hear that you are (shall I say?) under the weather. I send my love, caring and healing vibrations to you. I was always road travel sick until I started to drive. I disliked driving but saw it as necessary. I have never driven "open roads" so I can't say if I would like it. I am glad not to drive any more in the last 2 years.
Indeed, I do not enjoy travelling. I would prefer to step into a teleporter and immediately arrive somewhere else. However, I do like beautiful and interesting scenic vistas.
I love that your father guided you to tiles that made you feel his care and protection. Take care of yourself.