Road Trip

I had lunch yesterday with a friend that I hadn't seen in several years. He's actually one of my best friends. He invited the boys and I to come for a weekend to his house in Wimberly Texas.

Wimberly is a little town nestled in a valley of the Texas Hill Country. The Blanco River (above) runs next to and through the cozy little mesquite tree laden town. Canyon Lake, an 8,300 surface acre recreational lake is less than 15 minutes away. Just a beautiful place (lots of bed and breakfasts and cabins for rent if you're ever interested).

Sounds like the perfect road trip. Except for one really stupid and scary thing. I'm afraid to go. Or I'm afraid I won't go. Explanation (true confession) time. I haven't been out of Houston for four years. No road trips. Big deal, huh? Except, in my entire life I doubt I've ever gone more than a month or two without a trip somewhere.

The first road trips I remember came when I was around 6 to 8 years old. Ski trips to the only ski mountain in Michigan...Iron Mountain. I remember very little except for the bar my parents always went to there (different time, kids were all over that bar), the mechanical bowling game and Rosie O'Grady wine....not drinking it ... the picture of the lady on the bottle.....i suppose the wine was a kind of joke/tradition of the trip for my parents and thier friends.(just an aside, if you google Rosie O'Grady you will find 100's of bars and pubs from Thailand to Austrailia to Detroit).

After that, road trips were a way of life. We actually drove from Michigan to California when my dad was transfered. I remember a piece of plywood laid down in the back seat of the Buick, covered with blankets to make a flat play area (i don't even think cars HAD seatbelts in the back seats then). A stop in Disney Land was included. Trips from Sacramento to LA, San Francisco, Reno, and Squaw Valley. The year my dad was in Vietnam, my mom loaded us up and a road trip to Yosemite National Park resulted. Another cross country trip from California to Nebraska, with another stop at Disneyland, and when my Dad retired from the AirForce, I drove (3 months after getting my license) from Nebraska to New Braunfels, Texas.

Without really realizing it, within the confines of c0-dependency and depression, I have hermitted myself in Houston. I literally have been unable to get myself to leave. I missed my sister's wedding. I missed my Mom's 75th birthday party. I have not visited the friends I have in San Antonio, Rockport, New Braunfels, Dallas, Austin or anywhere in between.

When I was 18, I along with two female companions (platonic despite my best efforts) drove from Austin to Devil's Backbone, Colorado to ski. We took my parents copper Toyota Corolla station wagon. We brought our own booze since the drinking age in Colorado at the time was 19 (it was 18 in Texas). We stopped off in New Mexico at friends. We skied our asses off. Partied like ... well.... like 18 year olds on their first road trip. I haven't seen those girls for 30 years, but I'll never forget them. When I was 20, six of us crammed into the same Toyota and drove non-stop from Austin to Vegas (it takes 27 hours if your curious). I had 50 bucks to spend, lost 25 in the first 30 minutes and had a total blast.

Road trips. I lived for the next one. Over the next 25 years I or we went everywhere we could afford and several we couldn't. Hundreds of trips within Texas....to San Antonio, New Braunfels, Boerne, Fredericksburg, Galveston, Rockport, Corpus Christi, Dallas, Ft. Worth, San Marcos, Austin, Lubbock, College Station, Waco, Padre Island, Sinton, Vidor, Luckenbach, Gruene, Seguin, Beaumont, Livingston, Huntsville and Magnolia. Trips to California...Palm Springs, LA, SanFrancisco. Trips to Colorado...Denver, Colorado Springs. Trips to Florida...Jacksonville, Miami, Coral Gables. Trips to Arizona...Phoenix, Scottsdale, Tempe. Trips to Nevada....Reno, Vegas, Carson City. New York City. St. Louis. New Orleans. Mexico. Canada.

In other words....lots.

Four years and no road trip. Snuck up on me. Just like the co-dependency. Just like the depression. Wimberly might as well be Australia. You know what, though?

I'm better.

And I got the itch.......