Woody Heads Home

On Monday, July 14, 2008, my little station wagon caused a bit of commotion on Iris Street in Redwood City, where the largest moving van ever was reported to be loading and unloading old cars. The van, equipped with it's own elevator, stored my 1930 Ford on the second floor before heading off to Denver and parts east. In Boston, I await her return.

Redwood City and the End of the Road

Madeline and I spent our last night in a hotel at Carmel-by-the-Sea, where The Village Inn offered us a great facility, convenient location, helpful staff, and good parking. The village was a good place for us to land for one of our final days on the road, and it offered the quaint charm of a seaside village combined with the opportunity for some great retail therapy. We enjoyed a lazy morning on our last day there, and after checking the car over and mailing off a few packages of now-unneeded clothes, we headed north.

We opted once again for the coastal route, and the way was straight and clear - and it did not disappoint. The Pacific Coast from Monterrey to San Francisco is sided with farms where artichokes, lettuce, strawberries and other produce are grown. The fields vary in their greenness, but they are full of color, and especially so when filled with bussed-in laborers in colorful garb. As we left Pescadero, we visited with Dominick, a strawberry farmer, and his two dogs - who were all a bit curious about our little wagon. We left with half a case of strawberries which we have either consumed or doled out to neighbors of my friend Clare on Iris Street.

We stopped for a late lunch in Pescadero, a small small town with big food. There are two locally-owned grocery stores that offer sandwiches, pizza, produce and other sundries, and there is a world-famous (or at least regionally-famous) restaurant operated by Mrs. Duarte. (The town's other establishments include a goat cheese farm, a gas station, an antique store - and I think that is about it.) We left town by way of the surf and sand, and soon enough we approaching Half Moon Bay. We left the coast and picked up Route 84, a winding 'Model A' road that eventually took us to within minutes of our final destination at Redwood City. The road offered a beautiful, hilly ride through redwood forests and up and down the hills that lay south of the Bay area. The final leg of our journey was a good one.

Our trust Garmin led us out of the woods and within minutes we were parking the woody for the final time, on Iris Street in Redwood City - at the home of my old friend Clare - and Maggie, her Labrador retriever. Clare lives in an older, charming, section of Redwood City, and her home, with its high ceilings and artful decor, is warm and welcoming. We have spent long hours over the past two evenings sitting outdoors on the red-tiled terrace, enjoying some fine wines and fantastic meals, by lamplight and surrounded by beautifully manicured rose bushes, Hydrangeas, Magnolia, Lemon, and Palm trees, and an abundance of other flowering plants and greenery.

We have eaten well here, too, and our first night included garlic and rosemary marinated steaks, fresh sweet corn, and a tomato, basil, and Mozzarella salad - all of which we finished with fresh Pescadoro strawberries with fig-infused balsamic vinegar. Day two included fresh basil and ricotta ravioli from the North Beach, and asparagus and Merlot marinara sauce, freshly-grated Parmesan cheese, and a salad of Pescadoro greens. Our dinner was complimented by a dessert of fresh figs served with a Point Reyes blue cheese, a Thomas Fogarty Pint Noir, and the warm and animated conversation that I believe fills this yard on a regular basis.

The woody lay quiet yesterday, resting up for her trip back. She is packed and awaiting word of her pick-up, and while our trusty Garmin show 4,819 miles, there have been some local trips without record, and a stint in Utah where a blown fuse put Garmin out of service for 30 miles or so. Over hill and dale, mountain and valley, straightaway or curve, she has performed well. We chewed through a fan belt at 2,200 miles or so, in Texas, without issue, and but for a few blown fuses (the result of an unknown-but-corrected short circuit), but the woody has been otherwise well. We did have a boil-over or two in the mountains, but these occurred on the lesser peaks and were more the result of operator inexperience than the fault of the vehicle or terrain. She's had a few grunts and groans, but she is well, and well-travelled.

As am I. I told a friend who asked about me being on the road that the trip has been 'just right.' Redwood City, Clare's hospitality, and the warmth of her charming home has been an excellent dessert for this trip.

Half Moon Bay, Pescadero, and Carmel-by-the Sea

Our trusty woody chauffeured us out of the City of San Francisco, and while we enjoyed the row houses of south San Francisco, soon enough we were on the coastal road south again. This time Route 1 was more forgiving, and we motored along with traffic while enjoying the spectacular beaches and occasionally pulling over for 'moderns' to pass. It was good to be on the road again, and exhilarating to be driving the California coast in our Ford Model A Station Wagon.

We passed beach after beach, and the tide must have been right as surfers plied the waves everywhere. The road took us past Half Mood Bay and into Pescadero, a historic village that is the home of Duarte's Tavern, an entity that has operated since 1894. The restaurant is quite a destination on the coast here, and as we were traveling south, we took our lunch to go. We ate at a park overlooking the Pescadero Beach, and when we exchanged photography duties with the couple in the car next to ours, we were surprised to find that (a) the were from Natick, Massachusetts, and (b) their eldest daughter had graduated from Vassar. And again the world was a smaller place.

We landed in Carmel-by-the-Sea, and quickly settled into The Carmel Village Inn, a motel with excellent parking and which is located in the heart of Carmel. After securing a room, we toured the town's many shops and wound our way down to the beach. A cool fog had settled in, but the village was charming and the beach beautiful. We sought out a lemonade for Madeline and ended up at Ah, Shucks, an oyster bar with a well-rounded menu. I passed on the tequila oyster shooter in favor of a salsa shooter and a pair on the half-shell. Madeline had the Bay Shrimp Caesar, and and after another great day, we crashed.

We plan to explore Carmel tomorrow, and to visit the Woodies of Carmel shop on our way out of town before making our way north to San Francisco - the final leg of our journey.

The Golden Gate

We reached The Golden Gate Bridge in late morning, and our appearance raised a smile for the toll-taker, a young Hispanic woman. We fell in line, and snapped a multitude of pictures as we crossed the bay. Our attentions quickly turned to the road signs, though, as we recognized that we were not in Kansas anymore. Fortunately, the road to the Presidio was well marked and lightly traveled, and we soon found ourselves in the shaddow of the great bridge enjoying the view, breakfast, and the recreational activities of the natives - who were beaching, picnicing, roller-skating, jogging, touring, and playing with dogs. Once again, the woody drew interest, and, in our own way, we helped make the world a liuttle smaller.

Biscotti Sunrise

The sun came up with the skies blue and clear for the 23rd day in a row, and I made my way out to the porch of our little home at the Inverness Motel. We have enjoyed great weather, with some warmth (read: hot and sultry!), but with only several raindrops along the way. The flow of the air through the car has kept us comfortable along the way, and here by the coast it is cooler now. The morning sun is warm, and it encourages the strings on my guitar to sing their best. In between songs I enjoy a morning coffee, a chocolate-dipped biscotti, and the sun warming the tidal flat that covers the San Andreas Fault.

Madeline and I made our way south after stopping in at the Busy Bee Bakery in Inverness for a few treats for later on. We found gasoline in the communal village of Bolinas, a seaside town where there was a great interest in the woody. The gas station was a co-operative venture of sorts, and we paid the highest price for fuel there on our entire trip: $5.14. We a fresh tank and reports that we could fetch a good price for the woody when the surfers descend in a couple days, we were on our way again.

We drove the coastal route, Route 1, which snaked up and down the mountains that crashed into the great Pacific coast. The drive was a challenge, with its many sharp curves and steep hills. The sporadic guard rails kept us on edge and close to the median line, and by the time the 18 miles to the Golden Gate had passed, we were contemplating alternative routes for the trip south.

We Reach the Sea

Today was yet another full day for the crew of the Hotspur Two, and we added a crew member in the person of Nancy Nichols, a friend from home who is spending two weeks at a writer's retreat here at Point Reyes. Our scheduled pick-up of Nancy was delayed by some routine maintenance and a little chit chat with two Vassar College seniors we met on the way. We are on California time now, however, and we got on our way to complete our appointed rounds - and for now, with our speedometer working.

Our first stop was in the village of Point Reyes Station, to the shop of Marty Knapp, a photographer who has captured Point Reyes and surrounds in black and white over the past 20 years. Marty was expecting us and our little woody wagon, and we did not disappoint. We introduced, chatted, laughed, admired, kicked the tires, and, after checking the lighting conditions, left with a few photographs. Marty Knapp's body of work is superb, and Marty Knapp, the person, was warm, welcoming, and genuine. We were pleased to meet him, and I suspect our paths will cross again.

We left the village with a scone, a muffin, and a plan to react the sea at Limantour Beach in Olema, which is just south of Point Reyes. And reach the beach we did, after a winding, hilly road that had us up and down grades advertised as 17% on the warning signs intended for trucks and little woody wagons like ours. We doffed our sandals New England style, when the path turned to sand, and we crossed through the dunes to the beach. The sand was hot, the sky clear, and the wind gentle but firm, and we approached the shoreline. I waded in and decided that yes, the coldness of the Pacific was good reason for people not to be swimming. I uncorked the bottle of water I had filled with water from the Atlantic Ocean 22 days ago at Carson Beach in South Boston, and I made room in the bottle for the Pacific to join the Atlantic. The two were wed with Madeline and Nancy as witnesses, and we laughed at the pomp and circumstance of the ceremonial end of our journey.

The journey hasn't ended there, of course, and we were shortly on our way to Five Point Stables in Olema, for a two hour ride through the hills. I rode Delilah, a Belgian Draft Horse, who managed quite well with both the hills and a periodic trot with me on her back. Whoa, Delly! The trail was a bit dusty at times, and our guide was a bit less than surly at others. Our trail mate Marco, a great Italian rider who has moved to Hercules, CA, to work for a few months, saved the day. And we helped make his day by putting him in the driver's seat of our Model A.

Olives and Brie

The 5th of July was another full one for the crew of Hotspur Two. We started the day off on the shores of Lake Tahoe, watching yellow labs chase tennis balls while searching for coffee. We found coffee and a few breakfast treats after the short climb up to Truckee, an old California town just down from Donner Pass. We found the pass, too, and were relieved to find that our climb up Spooner Pass yesterday had put most of the climb behind us. In short order, we were looking at a sign that warned of steep downgrades for the next 40 miles. It was music to my eyes, and to my engine, too, although the brakes and the tires of the woody got an extreme workout on the way down. The roadway was rough, and rutted, but traffic was light until we hit Sacramento and the last stretch to Napa.

We climbed up Napa Valley and down Sonoma, and crossed between on a narrow winding road that looked like the large intestine on our trusty Garmin. Our wine-country adventure lead us to Petaluma, where we enjoyed the farmer's market and a picnic lunch of good bread, creamy brie, and fresh pesto. It was almost perfect.

The road from Petaluma to Point Reyes Station was perfect, and with the sun on the rolling hills, I though we passed through some of the most scenic land in this great country of ours.

We landed in Point Reyes village around six o'clock, and I was surprised to hear someone calling my name from a passing car. It turned out to be my friend Nancy, who later expressed her delight in catching us going through town as, in this remote outpost, mobile telephones do not often work. Nancy gathered us up and brought us up to the country estate where she and several others are enjoying an artist's retreat and workshop. The setting seemed perfect for clearing the head and getting the creative juices flowing. After breaking bread with Nancy's housemates, she, Madeline, and I strolled around the village and made a plan to collect Nancy to join us on our trek to the sea in the morning.

Madeline and I were greeted at the Inverness Motel with a welcoming note on the door and the setting sun. What a great spot, and a great place to stay, too. We were thrilled, and exhausted from another day on the road. A great day on the road.

California!

Today we drove The Loneliest Road in America – or so it is called – across Nevada, from Ely to Fallon. There was no there there, for the most part, although the scenery was beautiful. The terrain was rolling, and we crested six or seven 5,000 foot summits. The land was green, the pale green of sage, and we wondered if the tumbleweeds we saw were simply dried sagebrush. We came through two towns along the way, Eureka and Austin. Eureka came first, and we fueled up with the expectation that there would be no services for the 186 miles to Fallon. We helped make the Rotary Club’s 4th of July breakfast in Eureka a big success, and a dozen of us settled in for scrambled eggs and biscuits with homemade gravy. It was a good breakfast, and especially so after we had logged in some 75 miles before arriving.

We found a gas station in Austin, and while two spirited members of our tour group stayed to participate in the parade, we motored on. Soon enough we were in Fallon, and Madeline and I said our goodbyes to Ron and Diana, our tour leaders and friends. They sent us off with a plan for reaching Lake Tahoe, and we made it. The 50 mile stretch of road from Fallon to Carson City was busier that the prior 256 miles, and we were back in the right lane and dealing with traffic lights and stop and go traffic. After Carson City came the climb up to the Spooner Summit, a rise that took us from 5,000 feet to 7,100 feet without a drop off. The woody chugged along, and I was glad for the slow-moving vehicle sign on the back.

Spooner Summit gave was to the incredible view over Lake Tahoe. In our first views, through the first trees we had seen in days, it was impossible to discern where the water and mountains came together. As we drew closer, the blue the waters of Lake Tahoe invited us to come in for a closer look. The woody ran around the lake before a last tease in Incline, Nevada, took us uphill and away from the lake. Soon enough, though, we crossed into King’s Beach and The Golden State. The woody honked a bit, and Madeline and I high-fived it and smiled. N It was good to be here.

We missed our hotel on the first pass, but our trusty Garmin brought us back to the Sand ‘n Sun where, thankfully, there was a room awaiting us. The motel is on the beach, and after a celebratory beer, a swim in Lake Tahoe, and a short nap in the California sunshine, Madeline and I grabbed a bite to eat at the Brook Avenue Grill and Gelato.

I haven’t gotten into the epicurean delights of our trip (save a few references to the chicken-fried steak and the biscuits with gravy), but our meal here was excellent. Madeline had the teriyaki-pineapple chicken sandwich, with provolone, while I had the blackened-Ahi (fish) tacos with a mango salsa and pepper sauce. Our meal at this little sidewalk café was fantastic, and we were glad to have arrived in California.

Utah into Nevada

This crazy journey has run from Massachusetts through Connecticut, New York, Pennsylvania, Maryland, West Virginia, Ohio, Kentucky, Tennessee, Mississippi, Arkansas, Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Colorado, and Utah before we arrived in Nevada today. Seventeen states in nineteen days. Phew! I am excited about the possibility of reaching our last state, California, for the 4th of July. I have had a great opportunity to see these United States at ground level, and to enjoy her spacious skies and amber waves of grain. Its been a fabulous way to see the country, and to gain some understanding of the agriculture and industry of these various states. I am looking forward to seeing the fireworks over Lake Tahoe, and celebrating our national holiday.

In driving through Utah and Nevada, its easy to imagine how these lands looked three hundred years ago when Native Americans and settlers crossed paths and crossed on through to the western shore of this great continent. The lands don't seem to have changed much since those days, and they appear harsh and unforgiving. We traveled Route 50, The Lincoln Highway, which we picked up in Kansas and followed through Colorado, across Utah and into Nevada. The road signs warn of no services for 100 miles, and based on my travels today, these signs are correct. The road, a two-laner, rose and fell through two passes on our way from Delta, Utah, to Ely, Nevada, and each of these passes was over 6000 feet. The woody coughed and sputtered on the climb up to Sacramento Pass; we stopped on the way and removed the air maze in an effort to give our little 4-banger a little more air - and this seemed to do the trick. We fairly cruised on the climb up to Connors pass, although as we approached the pass, our radiator boiled over and my motometer showed red to the top of the column. We pulled over, added a little watter, and climbed slowly over the pass while the mercury went back into hiding. As we picked up some speed on the downhill, it was all systems normal. Of course, the road down was full of twists and turns, and a road sign that depicted a vehicle tipping over. We eased it down and followed Route 50 and a Model A, which we had caught up to, into Ely.

We have had much fun traveling along with our new Model A friends from California, Nevada, and Washington state. Like most Model A-ers, they are a spirited group who have welcomed us into their group, kept a keen eye out for our well-being, and offered us guidance and friendship on our way west. I suspect our paths will be crossing again, but tomorrow, somewhere on the way to Fallon, Nevada, we will be saying goodbye to these new friends. I wish them, and you and yours a happy 4th of July. See you in California.

PS: If you want to simulate the driving experience, click on the image below:

Rocky Mountains Revisited

The road through the Rocky Mountains is truly amazing, and by the end of Tuesday, I was both exhilarated and exhausted. Madeline and I crashed early with the idea that tomorrow, with 280 miles on the docket, would be a long day. I wasn't sure what we would find in Utah, but when I saw the sign reporting that there were "No Services for 100 Miles" - I wasn't expecting much. What we found was simply spectacular scenery, mile after mile. The rolling green mountains of Colorado gave way to mile after mile of deep red cliffs and buttes. Every now and then we'd come across a patch of green where a river or stream made the difference. We climbed again, to over 6000 feet above sea level, and while the woody did just fine, she couldn't keep up with her California cousins on the upgrades.

We caught up in the villages, and after a 200-mile morning, much of the group gathered for lunch at Mom's, a world-famous diner in Salina, Utah. The sandwiches there, along with the pie, were delicious. An afternoon climb to almost 6000 feet set us up for a roll down into Delta and our home for the evening. The crew was in early today, and while we managed an oil change in town before landing, we joined the tour group in the parking lot for some tire kicking and refreshments. Madeline and I headed out for a late dinner at Top's City Cafe, a local establishment where we sat at the counter and I enjoyed the Chicken Fried Steak with country gravy - on the side, please. The cafe, a family owned establishment, had graced Route 50 and offered locals and travelers homemade pie for over 50 years. We had the strawberry pie.

Rocky Mountain High

Today we crossed the Rockies! Madeline and I got an early start, and with a good send-off from Lisa, who was catching a flight home after seeing Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, and Colorado from the front seat of a Model A, we ran the 36 miles from Colorado Springs to Canon City without issue. We passed the Holiday Inn in Canon City, and saw Ted and Joe working on the brakes on Diana's roadster pickup. We joined in the fun as spectators, and after a breakfast from Denny's, we were motoring westward again.

The way west was one spectacular view after another, as the road rose and fell. The steeper climbs gave way to climbing lanes, but the hills certainly tested our little wagon. On the final approach to Monarch Pass, at the Continental Divide, I stopped to remove the air maze from my carburetor in an effort to give the engine a little more air. This action seemed to work, and we cruised the remaining hills at 30 mph or so, until we crested at 11,312 feet above sea level. It was great to be 'over the hill' - but we gave our brakes a workout on the way down.

We had lunch in Gunnison, and took some time to visit the Pioneer Museum there, where they had a number of buildings housing artifacts from Gunnison's pioneer days to the present. It was a great place to visit, although the curator threatened to put our wagon into their automobile collection. The road rose and fell on the way from Gunnison to Grand Junction, where the green of the mountains gave way to the barrens of western Colorado. We arrived in Grand Junction exhilarated and exhausted, both. This was a great touring day, and certainly one of the most difficult driving days, too.

Garden of the Gods

This afternoon, after making our way to Colorado Springs and collecting Madeline at the airport, we settled into the Antler Hilton. A long nap later, we saddled up the woody and made our way over to The Garden of the Gods, an outdoor park with fabulous red rock formations. We arrived as the sun was setting, and with the late sun on the red rock, the surrounding mountains, and greenery, it was just a beautiful place to end the day.

Of course, our day didn't quite end there. We toured Old Colorado City, and had a bite to eat at a Greek restaurant in this scenic village on the outskirts of Colorado Springs. We returned to the Antler Hilton, and after bundling up the woody for the night, we celebrated Colorado by breaking into the homemade cookies sent by my sister Maria. Now that was a beautiful way to end the day!

We're Not In Kansas Anymore

We crossed into a new time zone for the second time on this journey from Massachusetts to Colorado, and I now write from the Antler Hilton in downtown Colorado Springs. We motored some 250 miles today, without issue. The approach to Colorado Springs on I-24 was a little fast, but at the end of the road we found Madeline, who had flown in from Boston, via Atlanta, to take over as my co-pilot for the final leg of my journey.

It has been nice traveling with the other cars with the Model A Times Tour Group, and hearing how people got into the Model A hobby. A few of the cars from California have been 'souped' up a bit, and they can really motor along. It is a great comfort to know that there are other cars out there - just in case. We passed 3,000 miles on this trip today, and for the most part, these have been easy miles.

Tomorrow we begin the final stretch across Colorado, which will take us into Utah, Nevada, and finally, into California. The stretch tomorrow will take us up Route 50, the Lincoln Highway, which runs from Baltimore, Maryland, to Sacramento, California. We drove on Route 50 in West Virgina, and we have picked it up again in Oklahoma. Route 50 runs across Colorado, and our section tomorrow will take us from Canon City to Grand Junction - up and over the Rockies.

Oklahoma is Okay

This morning we left Clinton and headed to the Oklahoma farm of Elda and Henry Martens, where they had a collection of historic buildings, farm and racing vehicles, and a beautiful quilt shop. We travelled the 75 miles to the Fairview farm in a caravan and without issue. We were greeted by Elda and Henry, their extended family, and a host of friends and neighbors. The Mardens had an original White flatbed truck, a 1930 bulldozer, and several steam-powered combines. In addition to the vehicles, there was a one-room schoolhouse building filled with gorgeous quilts - the handiwork of Elda. The Mardens served up a fantastic repast of home cooked fritters and other delights, and gave our group a real taste of Oklahoman hospitality.

After our visit there, Lisa and I traveled another 250 miles with another vehicle. The roads were good, and while we were passed a number of times by trailers lugging huge combines and traveling faster than our 50 miles per hour, we made good time. Gas stations are apparently pretty far apart in Oklahoma, and when we found an open station, we took on 9.4 gallons - to fill our 10 gallon tank. Along with visiting an antique shop, we spent the day enjoying the beauty of Oklahoma's cattle farms, wheat fields, and corn fields. In late afternoon, we crossed into Liberal, Kansas, and before long, we were settled into our hotel at Garden City. We had a tour meeting at our hotel, and after socializing a bit, we had dinner at the Texas Roadhouse, a steak place next to the hotel, with Diana Hudson, Ron Ludford, and John LaVoy, the leaders of our tour group.

The Future Miss Oklahoma

If you are ever traveling to Clinton, Oklahoma, I can recommend the Hampton Inn there. Our hotel is great; the rooms and common areas are neat, new, and spacious, and the staff is helpful and friendly. Plus, the hotel is conveniently located near a Braum's Ice Cream shop and The Route 66 Museum. We toured the museum. which offered a cornucopia of automobilia, from gasoline pumps to a full-sized roadside diner. The displays showed the history of Route 66, from the early days of its construction to the resurgence of the route during the summer of love.

We were greeted at the museum by two Miss America hopefuls - the reigning Miss Route 66 and Miss Route 66 Outstanding Teen, complete with sashes and tiaras. We wished them good luck, and they wished us good travels and good maps.

Road Repair

The way out of Addison and the Greater Dallas area was a little confusing, but with my new navigator on board, and with the help of my old friend Garmin, we were soon on our way out of The Lone Star State. Not soon enough, though, as my trusty Motometer was telling me that something was not quite right under the hood. The Model A has an optional hood ornament that takes the place of a standard radiator cover; this is the Motometer, a roundish ornament that is fitted with a thermometer that indicates the engine temperature. Over the first two thousand miles of this trip, I have learned just how the thermometer in my Motometer reacts to changes in speed and temperature, and today, as we were keeping our speed in the 40s, it seemed to me we ere running a bit hot. The water level looked okay, and a look under the hood showed the fan belt shredded and looped around the pulley shafts - but certainly not powering the fan, water pump, or alternator. Generally the rule on trips like this is that the one part you don't have is the one you need, however, the rule didn't apply here and we were soon on our way - with the Motometer back to its usual level.

Texas highway gave way to The Sooner State, where the roads were straight and easily travelled. We saw miles of wheat fields and cattle ranches in the Oklahoma countryside, and it was good to be back on the road again. At the end of the days travels, we found ourselves on historic Route 66.

Car Games II

We said our goodbyes in Texas last night and this morning, and as we were about to pull out, Diana Hudson, our tour leader for the trip west, swung by in her topless Model A roadster to give me the good news that I had won the bean-bag toss in the car game competition. Diana had collected the trophy for me, and I added it to our stash of goodies from the meet. There is a time-honored tradition in the Model A world that those who win trophies at meets - or those whose cars appear in the newspaper or on television - are fined. I suspect that this will be the case here, although I will likely appeal any such fine as I was the only Minuteman Club member participating in the competition. Perhaps I can apply the amount of any fine to my gasoline expenses for travel to the meet ...

The Minuteman Brain Trust

I've had lots of help getting my 1930 Station Wagon ready for this extended road trip, and a number of my technical advisers are here with me in Dallas. This group includes Dick Stitt, who along with Dick O'Brien and Steve Goldberg, took me out to Ware, Massachusetts, when I picked up the car. Along the way, these individuals, along with Wayne Champagne, Jack Stokinger, Bruce Marshall (all pictured here), Harold Legge, Gene Tallone, Doug Linden, Clyde Kelton, and a host of others have provided technical and moral support, along with parts, tools, and enthusiasm. Our uneventful journey here was certainly the result of a combined effort on the part of many.

Today is a day of seminars at the meet, and tonight is the capstone event, the awards banquet where prizes for the highest scoring vehicles are given out - and where the significant raffle items are drawn and awarded. There are several rebuilt engines that will be going to some lucky participants, and a number of other prizes ranging from spark plugs to beautiful quilts.

The day is also one for 'car games' in which the vehicles and drivers are put through a series of games in a competitive format. These games include driving along a balance beam (without failing off), installing spark plugs in the engine head while blindfolded and wearing work gloves, and inflating a balloon with the car's exhaust - and event that we took over as the leader when we competed earlier - in part to the low idle and perfect timing set by Jack and Wayne before we left home.

Tonight we meet with the California group to plan our journey west. Tomorrow we are once again on the road, and I am excited.

Grand Tour

The trip to Dallas, Texas, was spurred on by the meeting here of the two national Model A clubs, MARC and MAFCA. There are a number of events that go on at these national meets, including tours, car games, car judging, seminars (on everything from license plates to restoring rear-ends), dinners, raffles, and, of course, swap meets. One of the signature events is the Grand Tour, which at this meet, was out to the Texas Motor Speedway, some 50 miles from out host hotel. I drove out with Bruce Marshall riding shotgun, and with Lisa and Jack Stokinger riding in the back seats and providing the color commentary on the Texas scenery. The trip out to the Speedway involved a number of interchanges and access roads, and along the way we saw our first Texas Longhorn cattle - and a number of other noteworthy sights. Somewhere along the way out, Bruce even asked about the Hotspur moniker of this blog.

Once at the Speedway, we queued up for our shot at breaking the land speed record, but, alas, with a full cargo load and our skinny tires and heavy wooden body, we kept off the banked curves for the most part. We made it up in the flats, though, and had a good three laps around this racetrack while dozens of spectators looked on. After the applause had died down, we furthered our racetrack experience with a lunch of corndogs and Doctor Pepper!

The trip back to the hotel was uneventful, and we all praised Garmin for seeing us back safely. The Texas sun and a poolside nap awaited us upon our return, and after a great Mexican dinner, we are settling in for the evening.

Life on the Road

Packing for a four-week journey across the continent in a seventy-eight year old car is pretty easy; you bring all the spare parts you think you could possibly need, and then you throw is a few clothes and personal effects. I did a little 'hotel room laundry' today - and then turned my wooden station wagon into a mobile clothes line.

Tuesday was a quiet day in Addison for Dennis and I, although I arose early so as to avoid the heat while I put the car on jack stands and gave her a good going-over. The rattles of 2207 miles didn't seem to have much effect on the woody, and after a tightening of the fan belt, the adjustment of the speedometer cable to the overdrive, and an oil change, I was ready for the day. Dennis and I headed over to the Corner Bakery, our breakfast spot, and spent the rest of the day poking around the swap meet and looking at the hundreds of Model As here.

There are certain turn in a trip like this, and on this day, the 30th anniversary of their wedding, Carol Moran again joined Dennis, this time in Addison, Texas. Dennis has been a good companion and navigator, and I will miss his good company and silly jokes. Watch out, Dennis, for those kamikaze birds as you head on to Houston. Lisa arrives shortly, and we are four days from the start of the trip west.

A Grand Welcome to Texas

Monday was the first day in eight that we spent the entire day in the same state, although from what I've heard, you can drive all day across Texas and still not reach the other side. It was good to be in one place, and I look forward to spending a few more days here.

We are here attending the Model A Ford Club of America (MAFCA) and Model A Restorers Club (MARC) National Meet, a bi-annual event that brings some 1500 Model A enthusiasts together for tire kicking and socializing. There are some 500 Model As here, in all shapes and sizes, from 48 states and Canada. There are even 12 attendees from Norway, although I do not believe that they came by Model A. In the elevator of the Intercontinental Hotel where the meet is headquartered, we met a gentleman who drove some 2600 miles from Oregon, which seems to knock us out of the longest-drive competition; we logged a measly 2207 miles!

It has been warm, but not oppressive here, although you did not want to be picking up any iron parts at the swap meet after they had been sitting in the sun for a while. The evening was lovely, and the Dallas Model A Club, which is hosting the event, threw a great welcome party in a park near the hotel. The barbecue dinner was complimented by a live band and then a showing of The Great Race on an huge inflatable movie screen. It was a great evening.

Dallas, at Last

After twelve states and 2,207 miles, Dennis and I pulled into the parking lot of the Intercontinental Hotel in Addison, Texas. The trip in from Hope was uneventful but for the final approach to the greater Dallas area, which is a series of turnpikes and interchanges better suited for 'moderns' than the Model A. The approach left us a bit harried, but relieved and happy to reach our destination safe and sound.

We enjoyed Arkansas, and after starting into Texas on the Interstate, we opted for the lesser-travelled roads. The interstate speed limit was 75, and while the limits were the same on the secondary roads, we saw few other vehicles, and the going was good. We travelled on some of the Texas red clay backroads that Michelle Shocked sings about, and the wagon continued to putter right along.

Just after checking into the hotel, we met up with Wayne and Sue Champagne, and as we celebrated our journey in the hotel lobby, we were joined by a host of other Minutemen who had arrived by means of more modern transportation. After registering for the meet and settling in to our room, we joined Bruce and Cookie, Jack and Jo, Wayne and Sue, and Dick and Mazie for a southern barbecue dinner, with all the fixin's, which we followed with a bowl of home-made vanilla ice cream!

Highway 61 Visited

Dennis and I got a jump on the day and had a travelling breakfast on Highway 61 in Mississippi. The road was clear and straight, and we made good time heading down the Mississippi River Delta. We motored about thirty miles before heading west and crossing into Arkansas, our third state before lunch. We cruised westward through the Bauxite State, and didn't see a stop sign or traffic light for almost two hours. We made good time passing through cotton, corn, and tobacco fields, and past family farms with cattle and horses. It must be the foaling season, as we have seen dozens of calves and ponies huddling around their mothers.

The weather gods have been smiling on us, and the Woody has continued to run smoothly and without issue. At the end of today, as she brought us to Hope Arkansas, the birthplace of President Clinton, our trusty Garmin was showing 1974.67 miles since Boston. The car has been running cool, and strong, and she continues to draw interest wherever we are. At the diner where Dennis and I had the Tobacco Catfish Special, we were told that a couple Model As from Pennsylvania passed through a couple days ago. We are in good spirits and looking forward to seeing our friends in Texas.

Tomorrow, Addison, Texas, and the MAFCA/MARC National Meet awaits.

The King Has Left The Building

Day six began with a home-cooked breakfast at the Moran home in Spring Hill, and a left turn instead of a right put us on a ribbon-candy road towards Memphis. The road, Tennessee Route 100 made a bee-line for Memphis, and with few lights and fewer trucks, we fairly flew towards Memphis. At lunchtime, we were 60 miles out and sure of an early arrival. Further, we successfully negotiated our was around the city so as to avoid most of the city traffic.

An early evening trip to Graceland put us at the gates as they were closing, and we joined a number of other fans waiting for the King to emerge. After our pilgrimage, the Woody brought us to Memphis Belle, a nearby restaurant where we enjoyed ribs, salad, and some southern hospitality.

A surprise-package from home was waiting for us at the hotel when we arrived; this was a box of double-chocolate chip cookies, and licorice, from Madeline, Lisa and Jonathan. Mmmmmm!

Run for the Roses

We began Thursday with a trip down The Bluegrass Trail, a scenic driving tour around the outskirts of Lexington. We saw dozens of horse farms, each one a work of art, with verdant fields and beautiful stables. The horses out here live well.

The trip south through Kentucky was a joy, and with the car running well and the traffic light, we made good time and enjoyed a countryside littered with newly-baled hay. We passed cattle farms, cornfields, and and wheat fields as we wound out way south with the hope for enough time for a visit to downtown Nashville and the Country Music Hall of Fame. Nashville traffic interceded, however, and as we passed through Nashville north to south, I considered the traffic exactly what people go on vacation to escape.

And while the Woody huffed and puffed in the stop-and-go Nashville traffic, it was only I who was overheating. Our trusty wagon, after five days, is running well and without issue. Our traffic woes and late arrival were quickly erased by a dip in the pool and the warm company of Frank and Germaine Moran. We enjoyed a great meal and a restful night after getting to know some of the neighbors while the Model A chauffeured and honked its way around Spring Hill.

Down the River

We started the day with a quick photo shot on the banks of the Mighty Ohio River, which makes the border between West Virginia and Ohio. It was good to be enjoying West Virginia from this side of the river. We ran down Ohio's Route 7, a Scenic By-Way, as these roads are often called, until we hit Ashland, Kentucky, in the tri-state region.

An experiment with I-68 didn't work out as we had hoped as we immediately hit a road-repair project which reduced the two-lane road to one lane. On top of that, it seemed that the freight needs of all of western Kentucky were being brought in immediately behind us, and with white knuckles and a couple dozen prayers, we were on to the lesser traveled path, that being Kentucky 60, the 'old' main road, on which we traversed I-68 a dozen times or so on our approach to Lexington.

We must have missed a turn or something as we closed in on Lexington, and the unplanned detour took us down some 18 miles of spectacular, if remote, roads. We drove under a canopy of trees on this one lane road, hoping that there would be no one heading towards us, along the banks of the Kentucky River. We weren't exactly sure where we were going to come out, but we made it out and onto some more modern and improved roads, and we were glad, finally, to get off the road for the evening.

We've now logged in 1,136 miles on the old station wagon on this journey, and these have been good miles, and without issue. I 'found' a tire retailer next to the Comfort Inn where we are staying tonight, and after a little discussion, I arranged to have my oil changed and tire pressure checked.

Tomorrow, after a tour of scenic Lexington, we will follow the green dots on our trusty Rand-McNally for the trip to Nashville, Tennessee, and a home-cooked meal with Dennis's mom and dad.

Almost Heaven

Day three of our journey saw us off early from Emmitsburg, Maryland, and onto Route 77 through the Catoctin Mountain Park. Mountain is the operative word here, and the remainder of the day we spent climbing up and braking down Mountains through western Maryland and across West Virginia. One 16-mile section of Route 50 was solely a series of tight ess-curves with ab 8 and 9 percent grade, up and down. I thought the roads spectacular, if challenging, until I discovered the hulk of an 18-wheeler headed down right behind me.

We travelled on two historic roadways today. The first, Route 40 a/k/a The National Road, was established by Thomas Jefferson as the first roadway west. Route 40 went from Washington to St. Louis, Missouri, the gateway to the west in Jeffersonian days. Parts of the roadway have been incorporated into Interstate 68, but Route 40 is marked there, too. The original Route 40 exists in sections, and we travelled on some of these roads today.

Route 50 is known as The Lincoln Highway, and it was a coast to coast road created with public and private funds in the early days of the automobile - in part, to facilitate travel by automobile and promote the automobile industry. Out west, Route 50 follows the old Pony Express route from Grand Junction, Colorado, to Sacramento, California. Route 50 starts in Baltimore, and heads west through Maryland and through central West Virginia before continuing west through Ohio.

We motored some 300 miles today, with much of it winding or climbing. We lunched at a diner on Old Route 50 near Clarksburg, West Virginia. I had the house Cheeseburger Special, with chips, for $2.50, and Dennis had the meatloaf special. Our arrival drew some interest from the regulars, who came right out to inspect our car and find out where we were going. Today, a simple route plan kept us on course, and off the road in the late afternoon. Tomorrow, we head for Lexington, Kentucky.

Music for the Road

Our first destination today was Nazareth, Pennsylvania, where in 1836, C.F. Martin moved the luthier shop he started in New York City in 1833. Martin Guitar is still owned and operated by the Martin family, and they employ some 600 people in crafting guitars and other musical instruments. Dennis and I toured the factory, and I enjoyed the play-while-you-wait area. We left empty handed, but for a souvenir from the tour and a few Martin brochures.

The road from Nazareth took us to Bethlehem, and then through Allentown. These weren't the towns we came to see, but it was interesting to see the effects of the convergence of river and man and trains and steel.

The road south yielded endless vistas of spectacular farmland and the fragrant aroma of newly-minted cow manure. The large farms of Bucks County gave way to the hand-sewn fields of the Amish in Lancaster County, where families worked the fields together, young and old. We passed a horse-drawn buggy that was turning left, and the children in the back gave us a thumbs-up and a smile. We passed through Bird-In-Hand, and through Lancaster, before avoiding York and the endless stream of stoplights and intersections that make Model A drivers curse.

We passed through Gettysburg and enjoyed the views from Highway 15 with a goal of being off the road and safely tucked into The Sleep Inn in Emmitsburg, Maryland, by nightfall. We accomplishd our goal, including dinner at The Ott House, where the motto is, "What happens in Emmitsburg, stays in Emmitsburg."

Massachusetts, Connecticut, New York, and Pennsylvania

The trip west commenced with a late-morning departure from Needham and Framingham, both, and a trip through Worcester County, Massachusetts, where Dennis and I had a quick on-the-road visit from our friend Paul - who happened see us driving in Sturbridge, Massachusetts. The road west took us into the the Yankee villages of Northwest Connecticut, and as the miles passed by, the foothills of the Berkshires gave way to a seemingly-endless stream of 30 percent grades through New York's Dutchess County.

The lesser-traveled road often offers spectacular scenery and terrain, and the course this day offered up the mighty Connecticut and Hudson Rivers, which we crossed on small bridges n our smallish automobile. The day, however, was less about sightseeing and more about getting along, as we left late and arrived even later, finishing up the day's work with the last 50 miles coming in well after dark. If John Soule had made this journey as I have, he might actually have said, "Go West, young man, go West ... but don't be driving down from the mountains into the setting sun at the end of a long day."

Still, there were plenty of smiles along the way, and queries at almost every stop about where we were going, and from whence we had come. The road was good to us, as were the weather gods, and we ended the day safe, sound, and tired, in Matamoras, Pennsylvania.

From Sea to Shining Sea

Early Saturday morning I headed down Route 9 to Boston and the Atlantic Ocean at Carson Beach and Castle Island. Princess Sophie led the way with head out the window and ears flapping in the early morning air. She led the way into the ocean, too, as I waded in behind her to fill a bottle that I will, hopefully, marry with that from the Pacific a month and a continent away.

Just a few short years ago a trip into Boston would have been a BIG deal to me. And now, even as I am still a bit surprised each time the Model A roars to life, it was a simple add-on to a full weekend. It was one of the last steps before take off, though, and the bottle of water is labeled and safely stowed in the back of the wagon.

Song of the Open Road

Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.

Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune,
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms,
Strong and content I travel the open road.

(with thanks to Walt Whitman, and to Ken Burns, too.)