I got nothing. Four of them, pretty much identical.
Except the three of them say “Rimrock” as the location and one says “Happy Jack.”
The cell phone is possessed, I tell you!
(But to be honest, possession’s gotten a bad rap ever since Linda Blair’s projectile pea soup thing. If I could just get the possessed cell phone to give me winning Lotto numbers the day BEFORE they win, I would be more than happy to accept it as a valued member of the household. And probably put it into law school, since possession is 9/10ths of the law…)
The weekend with the in-laws done, it’s back home for me.
As much as I might love watching thunderstorms, I was just as happy to detour around this one, even though we were already late.
This time I was connecting through Charlotte – it looks lovely in the ten minutes I was hustling through from Concourse E to Concourse B in a last minute run to catch my connecting flight. (I made it.)
Over North Carolina and Georgia there was more convective activity, big thunderheads building up.
All the way through Tennessee, looking south into Alabama and Mississippi, more of the same. Lovely – but dangerous, so there was some bobbing and weaving to get around it all.
We crossed the Mississippi this time at Memphis.
Oklahoma gets flat – this is Norman. I hear they play some football here.
Texas gets flat – and BORING.
New Mexico, with Albuquerque just underneath us, the Rio Grande valley is hard to miss.
Finally we cross the Colorado, here over the Colorado River between Parker Dam (the bottleneck at the top) and Lake Havasu City (beneath and behind us). California, here we are!
Tomorrow, it’s back to work. And unpacking. And catching up on my CAF duties at the hangar. And all of those other adulting things.
Adulting sucks. But it does allow one to take transcontinental plane flights and see all of the neat stuff out the windows!
It’s always nice to see family – it’s especially nice when said family has a gorgeous old Model A that they let me drive!
(Photo by Melanie Kordis)
My dad had a 1929 Model A – this is (I think) a 1931 Deluxe Model A. The long-suffering-sister-in-law was kind enough to let me take it out for a while with her and she didn’t have a nervous breakdown or raise her voice or nothing!
(Photo by Melanie Kordis)
She did at one point very calmly and politely point out that we were passing the local courthouse and that coincidentally this is where the local speed limit was 25 mph and she had managed to not yet ever get a speeding ticket there despite the fact that it was heavily enforced… It seemed an odd point at first, but then again, I’ve often been accused of being a slow learner. (I slowed down, we did not get a ticket.)
Driving the Model A requires a delicate touch, even for those who are used to driving a stick shift. After doing my best to take 20,000 miles off the life of the transmission, I was catching on much better at the end. It was fun!
(And a secret theme… But you never can tell who’s watching, so it will have to stay secret to those not in the know.)
One close and up high, headed southbound down the coast (San Diego? Cabo? Mexico City? Quito? Montevideo?) and two way out off of Santa Barbara headed north (San Francisco? Portland? Seattle? Anchorage?) leaving their temporary marks behind them.
I can’t wait to go again. Somewhere. Anywhere.