I’ll post with some stats, including the total number of miles I drove, in the next 36 hours or so. Any last minute guesses? (Survey at right).
Showing posts with label Other. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Other. Show all posts
Friday, December 21, 2007
Stats Coming Up!
There have been requests for me to divulge the total number of miles I drove on the trip. 
I’ll post with some stats, including the total number of miles I drove, in the next 36 hours or so. Any last minute guesses? (Survey at right).
I’ll post with some stats, including the total number of miles I drove, in the next 36 hours or so. Any last minute guesses? (Survey at right).
But Wait! There's More . . .
While NYC is home, I didn’t get my act together to start blogging and keeping track of the trip until I reached Boston in November. 
In fact, it was not until then that my brother Rich (see "November 22 -- Thanksgiving" &
"November 21 -- Trains and Glass") suggested that I record the trip using a blog and helped me to get this one started. Big ups, Bro’! In addition, my high school friend Amy’s wedding is December 15 outside Boston. So I’ve decided to make the wedding the last big event of this adventure. One more travel entry!
In fact, it was not until then that my brother Rich (see "November 22 -- Thanksgiving" &
"November 21 -- Trains and Glass") suggested that I record the trip using a blog and helped me to get this one started. Big ups, Bro’! In addition, my high school friend Amy’s wedding is December 15 outside Boston. So I’ve decided to make the wedding the last big event of this adventure. One more travel entry!
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
December 8 -- Beale Street
In the evening I went to Beale Street, a place famous for its music and eating. There’s a link, to the right, to Trip Advisor’s web page on it. 
The street was shut to traffic, and its restaurants and bars were hopping with people of all ages. Live music oozed out around the doors and windows of what seemed like one out of every couple of establishments. And yes, Mustang Sally was one of the numbers!
One of my faves:
The street was shut to traffic, and its restaurants and bars were hopping with people of all ages. Live music oozed out around the doors and windows of what seemed like one out of every couple of establishments. And yes, Mustang Sally was one of the numbers!
One of my faves:
Monday, December 10, 2007
December 8 -- National Civil Rights Museum
The National Civil Rights Museum is at the Lorraine Motel, where Martin Luther King was shot dead on April 4, 1968. It is a moving place. I can’t describe it properly in words, and no pictures of the inside were permitted.
(The Lorraine Motel, with the entrance to the museum at the left of the photo.)
One half of the museum, attached to the motel, chronicles the history of discrimination against black Americans and the historical struggle for civil rights in this country. An excellent, one-hour audio guide takes visitors through the exhibits. It’s important to allow at least two hours for this because you need to spend extra time looking at the exhibits in detail – something the audio guide encourages.
Across the street, there is a second facility which encompasses the boarding house from which James Earl Ray assassinated MLK. I didn’t get to spend much time in this part of the museum, but I was able to glance at what appears to be an excellent exhibit about the investigation and prosecution of the King murder, and then a large installation addressing the ongoing struggle for civil rights.
(Closer view of the balcony, with the wreath, on which MLK was killed.)
It’s depressing to see how long and hard so many people fought to treat other human beings in vicious, immoral ways. In contrast, it is inspirational to be reminded of those who risked their lives to achieve justice, and who had the moral strength to do so without violence.
This, from Martin Luther King, was new to me: “That old law about 'an eye for an eye' leaves everybody blind. The time is always right to do the right thing.”
(The Lorraine Motel, with the entrance to the museum at the left of the photo.)One half of the museum, attached to the motel, chronicles the history of discrimination against black Americans and the historical struggle for civil rights in this country. An excellent, one-hour audio guide takes visitors through the exhibits. It’s important to allow at least two hours for this because you need to spend extra time looking at the exhibits in detail – something the audio guide encourages.
Across the street, there is a second facility which encompasses the boarding house from which James Earl Ray assassinated MLK. I didn’t get to spend much time in this part of the museum, but I was able to glance at what appears to be an excellent exhibit about the investigation and prosecution of the King murder, and then a large installation addressing the ongoing struggle for civil rights.
(Closer view of the balcony, with the wreath, on which MLK was killed.)It’s depressing to see how long and hard so many people fought to treat other human beings in vicious, immoral ways. In contrast, it is inspirational to be reminded of those who risked their lives to achieve justice, and who had the moral strength to do so without violence.
This, from Martin Luther King, was new to me: “That old law about 'an eye for an eye' leaves everybody blind. The time is always right to do the right thing.”
December 8 -- Graceland
Graceland is ironic. In some ways, it’s way over the top -- green shag rug on the ceiling, wild chandeliers and decorating, a meditation garden, etc. In other ways, it’s oh-so-ordinary --most countertops are formica, there’s plenty of low-end appearing wood paneling, the house itself is not that large, etc.
(Less enormous than I’d imagined; trees and all Christmas decorations original.)
Elvis bought the mansion and some 18 acres when he was 22. He lived there until his death in 1977, only twenty years later, not long after an intense game of racquetball on the court he built at the estate.
(Plenty of fans leave their messages on the front gate.)
Without question, the place is a slick operation. There’s a large visitors’ center across the street from the house. You take a shuttle bus to and from the mansion.
After viewing the property, you can go to a number of separate exhibits if you’ve bought a “platinum ticket” ($30 instead of $25 for the mansion tour alone), allowing you to see Elvis’s costumes, cars and planes as well.
(The original Pink Cadillac. Elvis often called it “Gladys’ car” because his mom, although she never learned to drive, loved it so much. It was one of the few cars that the King kept from the time he first became famous.)
(Former Delta Convair 550, the “Lisa Marie,” named after Elvis’s daughter.)
The highlight, of course, is the mansion:
Front stairs. Lisa Marie remembers the jangling sound all her father’s jewelry used to make as he descended.
Living room.
Front hall.
Dining room.
Kitchen.
Blue suede covered stairs down to basement. The photograph is courtesy of mirrored walls and ceiling.
Basement entertainment room. Elvis was inspired to install three televisions when he learned that President Johnson watched all the networks simultaneously on just such a set-up.
Basement pool room. Note the fabric on the ceiling and walls.
“Jungle Room.” The wall at the end is a custom-designed waterfall. There’s green shag rug on the ceiling, as well.
The den. And a glimpse of the green shag rug on the ceiling.
White fur bed from Elvis’s dressing room.
Elvis’s guns.
“Shotgun house” in Tupelo, MS, in which Elvis grew up.
Gold records on the wall of the racquetball court.
A couple of great outfits.
Mediation garden.
The end.
(Less enormous than I’d imagined; trees and all Christmas decorations original.)
Elvis bought the mansion and some 18 acres when he was 22. He lived there until his death in 1977, only twenty years later, not long after an intense game of racquetball on the court he built at the estate.
(Plenty of fans leave their messages on the front gate.)Without question, the place is a slick operation. There’s a large visitors’ center across the street from the house. You take a shuttle bus to and from the mansion.
After viewing the property, you can go to a number of separate exhibits if you’ve bought a “platinum ticket” ($30 instead of $25 for the mansion tour alone), allowing you to see Elvis’s costumes, cars and planes as well.
(The original Pink Cadillac. Elvis often called it “Gladys’ car” because his mom, although she never learned to drive, loved it so much. It was one of the few cars that the King kept from the time he first became famous.)
(Former Delta Convair 550, the “Lisa Marie,” named after Elvis’s daughter.)The highlight, of course, is the mansion:
Front stairs. Lisa Marie remembers the jangling sound all her father’s jewelry used to make as he descended.
Living room.
Front hall.
Dining room.
Kitchen.
Blue suede covered stairs down to basement. The photograph is courtesy of mirrored walls and ceiling.
Basement entertainment room. Elvis was inspired to install three televisions when he learned that President Johnson watched all the networks simultaneously on just such a set-up.
Basement pool room. Note the fabric on the ceiling and walls.
“Jungle Room.” The wall at the end is a custom-designed waterfall. There’s green shag rug on the ceiling, as well.
The den. And a glimpse of the green shag rug on the ceiling.
White fur bed from Elvis’s dressing room.
Elvis’s guns.
“Shotgun house” in Tupelo, MS, in which Elvis grew up.
Gold records on the wall of the racquetball court.
A couple of great outfits.
Mediation garden.
The end.Sunday, December 9, 2007
December 4 & 5 -- Tucson to Houston
The drive from Tucson to Houston was more than 1,000 miles, so I got underway right after I’d finished seeing everything at Pima.
The sun went down not too long after I got underway, but I managed to put in about seven hours on the road.
Night’s a funny time on I-10. There are very few cars, but you pass anonymous white truck after truck pushing on along the highway. With the darkness, a sort of grim relentlessness envelops the road. All business, all the time.
I stopped at the El Oso Flojo Lodge, Inc. in Balmorhea, a couple hours beyond El Paso in West Texas. At $79 before tax, it was by far the most expensive lodging of the entire trip. Cranky about this when I rolled into my room, the place turned out to be the nicest motel of the trip as well. It is run by Joel and Flora Madrid, and the room reflected their personal investment in cleanliness and a tasteful eye for decorating. (Link at right.)
Wednesday was bright, sunny, and all Texas!
The speed limit there sure was a help in moving along fast!
The state became greener and greener as I zipped east. The beginnings of the green zone, still awfully scrubby, seemed to appear around Fort Stockton. Things got positively lush around San Antonio, a very attractive city from the highway. Temperatures throughout the day were mostly in the high seventies.
It was a couple of easy hours from San Antonio to Houston, past towns such as Weimar and Katy.
Upon arrival in Houston, I encountered my first serious rush hour traffic of the trip! The highways in this city -- lane upon lane, overpass over overpass, and kaleidoscopic cloverleaf interchanges -- rival Los Angeles. Impressive.
The sun went down not too long after I got underway, but I managed to put in about seven hours on the road.
Night’s a funny time on I-10. There are very few cars, but you pass anonymous white truck after truck pushing on along the highway. With the darkness, a sort of grim relentlessness envelops the road. All business, all the time.
I stopped at the El Oso Flojo Lodge, Inc. in Balmorhea, a couple hours beyond El Paso in West Texas. At $79 before tax, it was by far the most expensive lodging of the entire trip. Cranky about this when I rolled into my room, the place turned out to be the nicest motel of the trip as well. It is run by Joel and Flora Madrid, and the room reflected their personal investment in cleanliness and a tasteful eye for decorating. (Link at right.)
Wednesday was bright, sunny, and all Texas!
The speed limit there sure was a help in moving along fast!
The state became greener and greener as I zipped east. The beginnings of the green zone, still awfully scrubby, seemed to appear around Fort Stockton. Things got positively lush around San Antonio, a very attractive city from the highway. Temperatures throughout the day were mostly in the high seventies.
It was a couple of easy hours from San Antonio to Houston, past towns such as Weimar and Katy.
Upon arrival in Houston, I encountered my first serious rush hour traffic of the trip! The highways in this city -- lane upon lane, overpass over overpass, and kaleidoscopic cloverleaf interchanges -- rival Los Angeles. Impressive.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
December 3 -- San Diego to Tucson
I set out for Tucson around mid-day in beautiful, sunny, seventy-something degree weather. The sun never rose too high in the sky, but otherwise, you wouldn’t know that it was winter.
Some of the names of the towns I passed were charming or eccentric – Felicity and Dateland, for example. One sign I hadn’t seen before read “Mexico – Next Exit.” Another cautioned, “Blowing Dust Area.”
Wind turbines appeared throughout my drive in Southern California, Arizona and Texas.
Just before Yuma, near the Imperial Sand Dunes Recreational Area, course sand clouds billowed across the road. Each grain made a crackly ping as it struck the car. This reminded me of Aldous Huxley’s story about driving cross-country to California during bad dust and sand storms, only to arrive to find that the paint on one side of his car had been completely sand blasted away!
Right after Yuma, there was a Border Patrol check point: green-uniformed armed guards; German shepherds; and bright spotlights. The guards inspected every vehicle going east-bound on I-8, the main artery for Yuma. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. They had seen my kind plenty, I assume, because they waived be through with an earnest “Drive Safe!” after I’d responded in the affirmative to the question “American Citizen?”
As before, the photos below provide some sense of what the drive was like as far as Yuma, AZ, after which it was too late to take pics.
Some of the names of the towns I passed were charming or eccentric – Felicity and Dateland, for example. One sign I hadn’t seen before read “Mexico – Next Exit.” Another cautioned, “Blowing Dust Area.”
Wind turbines appeared throughout my drive in Southern California, Arizona and Texas.
Just before Yuma, near the Imperial Sand Dunes Recreational Area, course sand clouds billowed across the road. Each grain made a crackly ping as it struck the car. This reminded me of Aldous Huxley’s story about driving cross-country to California during bad dust and sand storms, only to arrive to find that the paint on one side of his car had been completely sand blasted away!
Right after Yuma, there was a Border Patrol check point: green-uniformed armed guards; German shepherds; and bright spotlights. The guards inspected every vehicle going east-bound on I-8, the main artery for Yuma. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. They had seen my kind plenty, I assume, because they waived be through with an earnest “Drive Safe!” after I’d responded in the affirmative to the question “American Citizen?”
As before, the photos below provide some sense of what the drive was like as far as Yuma, AZ, after which it was too late to take pics.
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