On The Way to Tucumcari

A Subaru Called Betsy and a Box of Face Masks

The Motel Blue Swallow in Tucumcari

My travel companion and I had to close our yoga studio a few months ago. Apparently this year we are having a particularly severe flu season and only essential businesses, such as nail salons, car washes, liquor stores, and access to CBD, are allowed to remain open. Schools are still in question. Yoga studios are definitely not essential.. At least in the eyes of our county government leaders, much like the rest of the country. 

Counties in my home state of Texas are run by the county judge and a group of two to four commissioners. I looked up the bio of one of our commissioner team members. “With her professional background and training in commercial interior construction & design, Commissioner [..]” 

While impressive, it didn’t build my confidence that she understood the intricacies of epidemiology and which businesses would cause an uncontrollable wild fire of viral contamination of a strain from a foreign country. But, it is out of my control. In legal language, it’s called an act of God for force majeure. I hope my landlord sees it the same way.

With a lot of time on our hands and running out of projects in the garage and only so much plant potting you can do in 105 degree weather, my travel companion and I sat on the couch and watched another rerun of Magnum PI while I wondered if I would ever be able to get into the same pant size as before the pandemic lock down. 

I looked at my companion and thought of all her background in education, her childhood in a remote border town of California with streams to fish in and mountain trails to hike, and her advanced degree in English, her native tongue. I said, “You should write a children’s book just like Beverly Cleary of your little town and your experiences. You can help young children learn to read and paint a vivid account of your own childhood. It's perfect. You could be famous, get us health insurance, and maybe even a new Mini Cooper.” 

She looked at me, taking her eyes off Tom Selleck doing his morning swim in the blue waters of Hawaii, and said somewhat sarcastically, “I’d rather write a cookbook of pudding recipes.”

I dropped the subject. In between the next episode I hit the pause button, and my trusted travel companion said, “Lets go on a road trip."

It didn’t take much convincing. We packed up our Subaru, Ole’ Betsy, and left the next day with a box of medical masks. 

The name Betsy comes from my old high school crush. My companion has heard this story many times and will roll her eyes. I never had the guts to ask Besty on a real date and certainly never even tried to hold her hand. Some afternoons after school I would pull her hair out of the holes in a plastic head cap that came in the box from a drugstore and brush bleach to highlight her hair as we listened to Chicago on a portable turntable; I would help her with her homework and we would make popcorn and watch old movies with her folks; we spent many times skipping school and sitting on the beach in Santa Monica. She was on the cheerleading squad and I sat bench on the basketball team. She became too close of a friend to ruin it by making an idiot out of myself. So… 

To this day, I’m sure she never knew and no matter. I am very content and grateful for my travel companion albeit she can get a bit sarcastic when I interrupt her watching Tom Selleck or it turns out, Pierce Brosnan. I find some comfort that she does not find Brad Pitt attractive. I got that going for me.

We decided to drive Route 66. Our plan was to stay in inexpensive, gaudy, mid-century modern motels along the way, dine in stale old diners, and see as much of the outdoors as we could… while keeping social distancing of course. We made our way to Tucumcari, our first stop. We made a very precise action plan for our twenty-something son, Chandler, who was watching the house while we were away.

“Step one, get up.” This was a key instruction.

“Step two. That’s right. Get up out of bed.

Step three. Water the plants. Please.

Step four, make sure you're still up and feed the dog and the cats.

Step five, do not forget to get up out of bed and water the plants and feed the dog and the cats.”

With our bags packed and in the car, we began our journey. Well, when I say, “we,” I mean my travel companion. She won't let me drive. She thinks I get too distracted. There might be some truth to that. What’s the point of traveling across the country if you can’t look around?

I only have so much space for a Sunday Morning Essay so I will continue ...

Take care,

Dain

The motel Hotel Safari

The Motel Safari in Tucumcari