The Decompression of a Boomer

We decided last Wed night, May 5th – to take a road trip to Arizona. We would leave the next day. David’s 97-yr-old mother, Marie, lives in Chandler (just south of Phoenix) with his sister, Pauline. His sister, Margaret, was also there visiting. We decided to see them all for Mother’s day.

The view out our back door Thursday morning was no surprise.

Boycott travel to Arizona? Are you kidding? How else were we going to warm up? We had endured about thirty straight days of this kind of weather. Megan looked out and said, “I can’t wait till spring is over!”

We threw our stuff together, boarded our dog Rudy with a friend, gassed up David’s 4-Runner, and hit the freakin’ road, man. It was now 4PM Thursday.

We packed along cases of our favorite CD’s and otherwise searched for FM radio stations. We were in for a long haul and could rock to music the whole way – about 900 miles to our destination and then the 900 miles back again. Here we are south of Pocatello, about 80 miles into our trip.

with the heat on full blast and the radio blaring out Megan’s favorite new hit song by Taio Cruz, (featuring Ludacris). We were belting out the chorus in our best singing voices:

I’m only gonna break-break-your
break-break-your-heart

I’m only gonna break-break-your
break-break-your-heart

We pulled over in Nephi for the night. Shot directly to our room to seek refuge from the 40-mph wind.

Bounced up the next day (now Friday) and before we knew it we were in southern Utah.

Incessantly on the tail of some slow-moving vehicle:

Oh goodie! In another 130 miles we’ll be in Flagstaff!

Then further south to

Bumble Bee?

We sailed through Sedona toward Phoenix. Oh we are getting close now!

Close to a complete stop in traffic, that is. Couldn’t have a road trip this long without a 40-minute delay in traffic somewhere now could we?

We’re crossing Phoenix now.

Does traffic look less daunting through the rear view mirror? At least the traffic jam appears further away than it actually is. I’m glad David is driving. It’s freakin’ nerve wracking!

We stayed at the Holiday Inn Ocotillo in Chandler, but spent most of our time at Marie and Pauline’s place in Sun Lake’s retirement community.

Where we hit the golf course.

David drove the ball,

While I drove the cart. With Megan’s help.

David and I had this discussion about golf. I asked him, “What is the difference between a slice and a hook?” (remembering these terms from my previous attempts at learning to golf). David soon demonstrated what each term meant, slicing one drive way right, where it hit a tile roof and bounced into oblivion, and then hooked a ball way left into a sand pit.

Megan and I had to make a lot of snake-y turns in the golf cart to get him to his ball for the next shot.

David hit some beautiful shots too, sailing high and straight in the direction of the hole, even missing things like small lakes, with his cheering section (Megan and me) exploding in exuberant “yahoo’s!” and “whoop-ie’s!”

But mostly, even he had to admit, he hacked his way through the course. I captured an action photo of him teeing off on the 6th hole:

Hey! So this explains his slices, hooks, duffs, gouges, toppers, lake shots, shanks, and misses! His club turns into a wet noodle when it hits the air behind him!

Okay, so it’s my cell phone messing with us, doing it’s abstract thing. Couldn’t exactly publish a photo like this in Golf Digest.

Back at Marie’s place, which sits near the tee on the fourth hole, Megan got her cast signed:

By “Gran”, Pauline, and Margaret.

Here you see all of us beautiful women celebrating Mother’s Day:

David had his hands full, being the only male there, keeping us all “Happy.” But we weren’t picky. He was smart to allow me a win at Scrabble.

We took a walk and I photographed some blooming desert plants:

Nature has a way of combining male with female. Extremely virile males with fragrant, passionate females.

It’s Monday now and we’ve hit the road north – on I-60 – toward home. For some reason I can’t stop thinking about our dog, Rudy,

who is always devising new ways to impose himself into my consciousness, trying to make me feel guilty for neglecting him. Get down from there, Rudy – this is not funny. We promise we’ll come get you when we arrive home.

We are traveling now through Joshua tree forest.

Past lonely bikers.

Through endless nothingness.

I captured this photo:

which prompted this song (a classic from 1974- by Maria Muldaurto) to start playing in my head:

Midnight at the oasis
Send your camel to bed
Shadows paintin’ our faces
Traces of romance in our heads.

Okay so that ain’t no photo of a midnight Oasis. I should be singing,

‘Sunshine on my kneecap
makes me happy’

in my best John Denver voice, because that’s what it is – my knee in the front seat captured in another abstract by my iphone.

Hmmm. Decisions, decisions. Should we take the road to Las Vegas? Or…

the road to Bullhead City?

Vegas it is. Besides, we had already booked a room at the Mirage and purchased three tickets online to a show scheduled for 9:30 tonight.

We were well on our way to Vegas now – flying down the road – with a song by Lady Gaga blaring through the speakers from Megan’s CD: “Poker Face”:

I wanna hold em’ like they do in Texas Plays
Fold em’ let em’ hit me raise it baby….

Yep! We’re headed to Sin City.

I just hope it’s warm.

Tags: Arizona. golfing

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