Tag: travel

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Vega Bound

A brand new 1974 Chevrolet Vega station wagon was the first, and only car I ever owned.  A gift that I drove for the next 12 years with love.  Quarter panels were replaced, entire car repainted once, the in-line 4 engine replaced by a blue Buick V-6 (now she flew!), and that beautiful little car took me everywhere!  I cried buckets when I had to let it go.

Those days I loved to drive.  I would leave for work early just to take the scenic route, and often did not come home until way past sunset.  I loved the road.  I loved cars.

Though I never had the pleasure of owning another vehicle, I rented one nearly every weekend.  Mom and I explored every road that presented itself.  Fond memories of back roads through heavy forests, encounters with wildlife, including a moose!, discovering pristine lakes, rivers, streams, waterfalls, and roads that seemed to go on forever.

Despite the pleasures of quiet drives in the country, I was also very fond of muscle cars and drag racing.  I date myself with reference to nitro funny cars and modified stock, the glory days of Don ‘The Snake’ Prudhomme, Grumpy Jenkins and the like.  Spent weekends glued to the stands at such events as Sanair, Indianapolis and the Gatornationals, and every summer Sunday at Luskville.

Over the years I kept my love of automobiles barely alive and was saddened by this.  My Mother died and I stopped driving, boyfriends with cars that took me canoeing, camping and on weekend getaways have gone.  My income too small to support a vehicle and hope to retire too.

I lost touch with the modern vehicle until last year, I decided to rekindle my automotive affections and attended a car show.  I spent my time looking under hoods, listening to sales pitches, and exhausted myself eyeballing beautiful works of metal, glass, plastic and fiberglass art.

I fell in love with a white Jaguar XE and could have sat in that car all day.  My finger prints are still etched on the steering wheel where they pried them off.

A Chevrolet Traverse also caught my eye.  A real SUV, not a glorified hatchback, that caused me to dream of hauling camping gear, canoe and paddleboard off into the sunset once again.  Ah, to dream.

Alas, with all this fantasizing, the best I could do was subscribe to Automobile Magazine for 3 years and read it cover to cover.  A most excellent written drive!

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NOT on the Buses

Nasty day.  Not snowing yet, but that rain is near ice.  The bus is late, difficult to gauge by how much, they come when they feel like it, sometimes two arriving together, and then nothing for days.  My feet start to get cold.  A bus passes, too full to pick us up.  This is the daily attempt to commute to work.  Repeat the scenario on the way home, the wait so long, I could catch the next bus back to work.

Nothing can accelerate work place burn out faster than a lousy commute.  Perhaps the commute started the burn out in the first place.

Forget the advice to spice things up by going a different route.  I take the shortest, and only route available.  If there was another way, it would be infinitely longer – why would I want to do that?  Get up earlier and come home later?  Na.  And in the winter it is dark a.m. and p.m., not much change of scenery there.  Finding another route is as bad advice as standing on a bus without holding onto anything to improve your balance (yes this piece of wisdom is on the internet).  Advice doled out by people who never take the bus.  Ever.

It’s not the scenery that dulls the mind.  It is the waiting. Looking hopefully down empty roads and seeing no vehicles, of any kind, in sight.  Just blowing snow.  Or sheets of rain.  Or a nice sunset on the good days.

Once on a bus, packed in like sardines, our bulk is smashed to one side as bus takes corners on two wheels, and folded up like an accordion on sudden stops and starts.  And it stops at every. single. stop.  We get every. single. red light.

Eight a.m.  The driver sings at the top of his lungs all the way to work, in two languages.  A lot of tremolo, but not gravel down a tin chute, thank goodness. But at 8 a.m.?

Move closer to work?  Are you kidding me?!  The repercussions of that should be evident.

But busing beats walking. Walk?  I had to during bus strikes.  In January.  It took an hour and a half one way.  And I had it easy.  Some people had to walk hours and still put in a full day.  I near froze, got buried in a snow bank by a snow plow and generally believed my life would soon end.  Bicycle?  Dangerous. But brave souls do it. Koodoos to them for sure.  Plus they save a huge amount of money and get in shape.  Winter must be a blast to bicycle in.  I used to in the summer, but bike thefts are common.  So nice at the end of the day to find your only ride home is gone or worse, mangled.  No room in current office for safe stow away of bike.  I know, I have an excuse for everything.

Of course everyone has their own horror stories of taking the bus.  I could curl your hair with some of mine.

I am, of course, ranting.

I figured it out.  I have gone down the same road almost 6000 times during the past twelve years.

If I get to retire when I want, it means maybe only a thousand more trips.

I won’t miss it.

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Technologically Challenged

When the electronic age began to pick up momentum in the public, we were amused by it.  New gadgets and wizardry were mostly expensive toys or luxuries.  I remember getting a private line telephone, a luxury that freed us from the intrusive party line.  When I went to Expo 67, Bell demonstrated video phones where we could see the person we were talking to and we didn’t like it!

I let technology get way ahead of me with this mindset, which wasn’t all that bothersome.  I lived happily in the dark ages for a long period of time.  I was able to function.  I had my share of crappy cell phones with limited range, far too small screens and buttons, and never used them much. They were an interesting thing to have, but not a necessity.

Until…

I was going to visit my brother.  I haven’t traveled in decades.  The trip required 3 connecting flights.  As is the case, quite frequently, I now understand, my first connecting flight was delayed.  The airport was under construction, so I was not surprised that the one pay phone I found was not working.  No worries.  Lots of time left. I can call him when I get to Denver if I am going to be late.

I am going to be late.  12 hours late!

Panic!

There are rows and rows and rows! of phones at the Denver airport.  And not one of them work.  I know.  I tried them all.

So I see a big guy sporting an even bigger cowboy hat and a badge that said Information.

“Am I doing something wrong?” I ask him about the phones.

“Nope.  None of them work.  Haven’t worked in months.  Is your phone dead?”

“I don’t have one.”

He shrugs and walks past me.

Around me everyone has their face illuminated by blue phone light.  I don’t even know how to use one.

I walk over to a man with his nose to the screen.  “Kind sir.  I am in a fix.  I will pay you $20 to make a phone call for me.”

He looks at me, blinks in disbelief.  He hands me his phone “Go ahead” he says “You don’t have to pay me.”

I explain it is a long distance call.  He says that doesn’t matter.  I hand the phone back to him.

“Can you dial it for me? – I don’t know how.”

He gives me a silly grin as if I am joking, but dials the number. “Just talk into the screen” he is half serious.  He stands there gawking at me, suspecting some kind of prank.  As fortunes have it, the line is busy.  “Can you try another number?”

Mission accomplished, I get to leave a message. He waits as I collect my suitcase, give him a heartfelt thank you, and head for the nearest eatery.  He looks around, waiting for some TV host and camera crew to show up, tell him it was all just a gag and can we use it on our show?

My unfortunate brother had to page a reply to me at the airport and pick me up at midnight, instead of noon.  And oh yeah, he waited quite a while at the airport for me, didn’t get my message until he went back home.

“Get this” he shows me the blue screen when I arrive.

I comply.

Now I’m hooked on the thing.  How did I ever manage without one?!