Road Trip

On the road.

I came to Los Angeles from St. Louis in November 1978. I knew I was ready to leave my hometown, but I wasn't sure where to go. I sent a letter to my relatives in Boston and in Los Angeles. I heard back from my aunt in Los Angeles. I had another connection in L.A., too. A guy I had dated was already in L.A. He was willing to let me stay with him until I got on my feet.

I bought a yellow VW bug with an automatic transmission. I quit my job at Human Development Corporation (HDC), and packed what I could into that tiny car (along with a bedpost from my childhood canopy bed for protection, at my mother's insistence). I checked a map to chart my route. I am not a good navigator, but this did not stop me. I was "ret" to go. No cell phone, no concern about the possible dangers. I was 24 years old and fearless.

I remember deciding to drive every day until dark and then find a place to spend the night. I think it took about 5 days of travel. I drove through mountains in a blinding snowstorm where I was too afraid to stop. I could barely see 10 feet in front of me, but I figured if I kept going I would pass through the storm. And I did.

On the last night of the trip, I stopped and called my friend to say I would be there the next day. He explained that I was almost there, keep going. I didn't get lost at all crossing the country, but once I rolled into L.A. I was overwhelmed by the tangle of freeways and signs all leading into what I thought was the city. I pulled off the freeway into what I now know was the heart of skid row in downtown and called my friend. I was totally lost. While I waited for him to come and meet me, so I could follow him back to the apartment, I could hear gunshots in the next block. I found out later that there was a big shoot out involving LAPD and some drug dealers. Welcome to Los Angeles.



Which brings me back around to a road trip my husband and I took in 2011, from Los Angeles to St. Louis and back. Things were much different.  It's really helpful to have a co-driver so the trip took only half as much time. A nice comfy SUV that I could pack with all the things I couldn't take on an airplane. Gifts for my nieces, stuff like that. We planned the trip so that I could visit my ailing mother. I planned a mini family reunion so my mother and I could see as many people as possible in one swoop.

This time I didn't have to do any navigating because the hubby is an expert with a great sense of direction. I have no such thing. We stopped in New Mexico, Arizona, Oklahoma City, Amarillo and Albuquerque. It was all quite lovely.

I was delighted to see family members I hadn't seen in years. It was tough seeing my mom declining, but I'm glad I made the trip. Turns out she would be gone four months later.

On the trip back to Los Angeles, as we were leaving a toll booth in Oklahoma, I was driving and I was pulled over by the police. I was really nervous. I had changed several lanes on my way back to the highway, without signaling and the cops were right behind me. There was no other traffic and no one was in danger to my thinking.

I show my driver's license and registration. The police officer asks me to get out of the car and come with him to his hummer type vehicle. Once inside I see there is a gigantic German Shepard in the back behind a cage. Then I look around at the rifle and computer and other police techie stuff. I was intrigued to be able to see all of this up close. Still I'm worried that I'm going to jail in Oklahoma.

The officer bombards me with questions about where we're going and what is the make and model of our vehicle. I was stumped. Looking him in the eye, to prove I was being truthful, I told him, "I drive it and put gas in it, but my husband knows the make and model." He was a little disgusted with me as he got out and went back to our car where my husband was still in the passenger seat.

Later Earl (the hubby) told me that when asked the make and model because your wife didn't know, Earl asked, "Are you married?" as he shrugged his shoulders. Yes, the officer was married and he knew how it was with his wife. I got off with a written warning as a result of the common bond between the two men.

Needless to say, I've abandoned my old L.A. driving habit of not signaling for a lane change. It's a custom here. If you signal you may never be let in. I signal anyway, now. All the time. Whether I need to or not. Even if I'm the only person on the smallest side street, I signal.