It goes without saying that a road trip solo is much different than one with your spouse. Mainly that, with your spouse, you will have to fight over which radio stations to listen to, and probably will not be allowed to sing along at top volume to any of them, even if you are the driver. The differences multiply when that spouse works for the federal government. Mainly that you have to stick to a pretty strict driving regimen in order to reach your destination by the deadline determined by the powers that be.
When it was just me and Sage, we could go off course to see whatever interesting or silly roadside attraction we wanted. With TJ, there was no time to see the largest groundhog sculpture in the country. Mostly, we could stop only to eat and sleep. Sometimes, we saw something of note when we stopped to walk the dog. On the upside, with a co-driver, you can surrender the wheel and imbibe with some meals. Although a faithful companion, Sage was not helpful in this respect.
Day 1
Our first day on the road took us only from San Diego, California, to Tucson, Arizona, mainly because we spent half the day running last-minute errands: handing in house keys, dropping off a car for shipment, and mailing a visa application. But we managed to eat, of all things, a bratwurst at, of course, Das Bratwurst Haus, a surprisingly authentic German restaurant in Yuma, Arizona, as witnessed through the accent of the Harley-riding cook/owner who chatted with us as we finished some frosty mugs of Weihanstephaner on its patio. Later on, we had a less unusual quaffing experience, at Dragoon Brewing in Tucson, which seemed to be following the lead of many SoCal microbrewers: setting up in an industrial-park garage and inviting a food truck to provide some nutritional absorption for its customers. After driving out of our way to Catalina State Park, only to find it full, we drove even more out of our way to sleep at Gilbert Ray Campground in Tucson Mountain Park. This was a lucky turn of events, considering the park -- unlike Catalina, which was across from a Walmart -- was in the middle of the Sonoran Desert, one of the only sights of note during our first day on the road.
Day 2
For our second day, we set a target of El Paso, Texas, which had been of interest to us ever since we thought we might land in Cuidad Juarez as our first post, instead of Tijuana. We lingered a little too long with a morning dog walk in the desert, so we had to combine our eating and drinking stop. We ended up at Mimbres Valley Brewery in Deming, New Mexico, whose vacant storefronts belied a town that has seen better days. The brewpub, with its satisfying craft beer and spicy BLT, was a lucrative oasis. Our sleeping plans were thwarted again, when Franklin Mountains State Park in El Paso was closed due to construction and dive motels turned us and our dog away at the inn. So we pushed on to a KOA in Van Horn, Texas, where we arrived well into the night. With the long distance, we didn't have time for sight-seeing, so we settled for the sparkle of the border lights of Cuidad Juarez, which stretched even farther than those in Tijuana, a feat I would've thought impossible. On the other hand, Sage's highlight of the day was spying an emu grazing in land adjacent to the KOA.
Day 3
Day 2 of mainly driving was a boon because we arrived that much earlier in San Antonio, Texas, the one "solid" point of interest during our trip. We made it into town in late afternoon, even after stopping to split a brisket sandwich at Coopers Bar-B-Q in Junction, Texas. There, Sage had his moment of sight-seeing when he watched a bunch of hound puppies play in the grass nearby. He happily snoozed in a La Quinta Inn in downtown San Antonio while we explored the River Walk, which was pretty dead, probably because it was Super Bowl Sunday. We had no problem ordering some pints at Esquire Tavern, the oldest bar on the River Walk, or Menger Bar, a replica of the House of Lords Pub in London where Teddy Roosevelt recruited many Rough Riders. We cruised by the Alamo (and all the tourist traps right across the street from the historic fort) before we realized it was getting a little late for dinner, by American standards. Near midnight, we were served up patties and fries at Whataburger by the friendliest fast-food manager I have ever met.
Day 4
Not ready to give up our tourist pursuits, we started our day with some more sight-seeing, in New Braunfels, Texas, a city of German heritage that has a permanent beer-hall structure for its annual Wurstfest. We snacked on kolache, a Czechoslovakian turnover, from Naegelin's Bakery, the oldest bakery in Texas, dating to 1868, before hunting down New Braunfels Brewing. The young brewery wasn't open and didn't appear to have a tasting room anyway, so we headed to Black Whale Pub in hopes of finding some of its offerings on tap. Down the bar was a man who shared, over some pints from Guadalupe Brewing, that he helped start Rogue and was helping start New Braunfels, which was still awaiting some equipment on order from Europe. This potential pathological liar was the first of many characters we met that day. The others were at Sam's Cove near Lake Charles, Louisiana, where a couple interrogated us about why we outsiders were in this out-of-the-way dive bar (and one lady creepily told me that I had nice skin). They did not believe our honest response, which was that we stopped for a beer to escape the rain as we headed from our bayou campsite at Sam Houston Jones State Park to find dinner in town. After downing a few Millers to placate the insiders, we found an open burger shop in nearby Westlake, where a fried catfish po-boy made all the weird go away.
Day 5
Upon leaving Lake Charles, our trip got a little more traditional, at least in terms of food. While stopping for gas outside of Baton Rouge, Louisiana, we decided to venture into Bergeron's Boudin and Cajun Meats down the road. TJ laid claim to the featured boudin po-boy, so I ordered a sausage one. They were both cheap, tasty treats, but not as cheap as the free samples at Tin Roof Brewing, near downtown Baton Rouge. The brewery's tasting room wasn't actually open, but the owner was kind enough to pour us a few four-ouncers anyhow. The beer was tasty enough that TJ bought a six-pack at the gas station down the road, pretty much the only place outside a bar where you can buy the beer. From Baton Rouge, we started our tour up through the Mississippi River Valley. We stopped to walk Sage amid the fancy river-merchant homes of St. Francisville, Louisiana, the once-capital of the former Republic of West Florida. As we headed farther north, we passed plenty of plantation homes on the way to Natchez, Mississippi, a predominantly French settlement that expanded because of the slave trade. The city's Forks of the Road area was once home to dueling slave markets; now, it is home to only a few educational signs explaining the intersection's sordid past. After seeing the river vista from Natchez, we sought out at campsite at Warfield Point Park, which is right on the river in Greenville, Mississippi. Sadly, the fog was so thick, both at night and in the morning, that we could only see about a foot of its shore, making the park's riverside observation tower obsolete.
Day 6
When the park's caretaker came to collect the fee in the morning, he shared a surprising longing for his hometown of Toledo, Ohio, then assured us that the fog would lift about 10:30 a.m. And indeed, it did, as we pulled out for Oxford, Mississippi, but not before we picked up a quick breakfast from Shipley Do-Nuts (Plan B after we couldn't find the diner run by the caretaker's grandmother). The landscape seemed familiar as we drove through the Delta to Oxford, hometown of William Faulkner. I had a hard time envisioning how he dreamed up the Compson family in this town full of co-eds in leggings and Ugg boots, so I opted to embrace the Ole Miss style, with a tenderloin toaster at the Rib Cage and a bottled Abita at Funky's. After two nights of rain, which left us sleeping on soaked or damp blankets, Sage and I talked TJ into getting a room at a Red Roof Inn in Nashville, Tennessee. After getting too caught up in college life, we had to speed through Memphis, Tennessee, missing Graceland, and Nashville, missing the Grand Ole Opry, to make it to the hotel at a reasonable hour. We didn't want to venture out too far for dinner, so we headed around the corner to Donk's Bar & Grill, where we were only slightly less out of place than at Sam's Cove. But nobody seemed to mind, if we kept to ourselves and tipped well, so we had a beer before we picked up some Taco Bell to eat back at the hotel.
Day 7
On our way out of the Tennessee capital, we took a driving tour of downtown, and the Nashville Farmers' Market looked so inviting that we had to stop. We ate a very early and New Orleansy lunch at Nooleys, where TJ completed his weeklong run of sandwich selections with a muffaletta; I shared my shrimp gumbo and red beans and rice with him. The portions were so generous that we took half of each stew home with us, along with some country bacon we bought at one of the farmers' stalls. We went back to college again when we drove through Lexington, Kentucky, home of Country Boy Brewing, whose tasting room was so lively and friendly that it was hard to leave. We managed to escape at least for dinner, a couple of blocks away at a student late-night standard, the Tolly-Ho Restaurant. Already compounded by self-created delays in previous days, I was forced to drive without stopping, through Cincinnati and Columbus, Ohio, so we could make it home within the government-allotted week timeframe. Luckily, TJ snoozed so I could sing as loud as I wanted, and therefore, we managed to reach my dad's driveway in Mansfield, Ohio, just before midnight.
