Richard and Suzanne and Duncan's Big 2012 Road Trip
Stage 1 - Lowering Our Latitudes
Phoenix, AZ to Orlando, FL


Note: Clicking on any of the pictures will bring up a larger version, in a click-thru album for that day. Enjoy!


Day 1 - Saturday, June 9th, 2012
Phoenix, AZ to Lordsburg, NM
279 miles

Welcome to the 2012 trip! This year's destination: sunny central Florida for another round of NCUTCD meetings. And we're driving so we can see the places and people in between, and Duncan can learn about these big wide United States as we wander east and west.

This year, we're going to try something different. Although the Mighty Truckasaurus has been a capable and faithful traveling companion for nearly a quarter-century, for this year's trip we're experimenting with traveling in something more fuel-efficient - Suzanne's Chevrolet Monte Carlo coupe (with a rooftop carrier for all the extra junk). The fact that the Monte has a fresh new engine is a bonus - and when she needs to, Suz much prefers driving the Monte to trying to steer around in the big 'ol truck.

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"Ladies and gentlemen, we want to remind you we have a very full vehicle today..." The trunk is full too!

As always, we tried for an early start... and as always, we got a late start. In addition, as we were preparing, we received news that Richard's 91-year-old mother had fallen down the evening before, and like many folks that age, didn't exactly stick the landing. So our very first stop on this very long trip was at Mom's place to make sure she's OK, say hi, and give Duncan a chance to be nice to the only grandmom he has left. And although she did have three busted ribs from the fall, she was in good pain-relieved spirits and the visit was most enjoyable.

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Out the garage and on the road! Duncan: "Grandmom, did you break your ribs in three places?" Grandmom: "Yes, I did." Duncan: "Then stay out of those places!" Hangin' for a bit with the cousins

OK, time to head outta town. But wait - one more stop in the urban area, as our trajectory would take us close to one of the few remaining Moeur Road signs in the far eastern Valley, and we wanted Duncan so see a sign with his name on it in big Series C letters. Years ago, the road straddling the Maricopa / Pinal County line was called Moeur Road, in honor of Duncan's great-great-great uncle, who was Governor of Arizona in the 1930s. But the road was renamed in most places to Meridian, and the Moeur signs became less, and now only a couple plaques remain. But Dunc got a kick out of seeing his name on an official traffic control device, and brightened his day as we cruised out of Queen Creek and on up to Superior on US 60.

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Yes, we're related! Little Moeur under the tall sign Feeding the vehicle some 87 octane

OK, we mentioned we were taking the Monte instead of the truck. Our first inkling that maybe we were taking a lot more stuff with us than the car usually carries was as we were climbing uphill along the 7 percent grades and into the Queen Creek Tunnel, where the temperature gauge on the Monte started creeping into "rather warm but not dangerously hot" territory. So we throttled down and turned off the A/C, and carefully managed our revs and speed up over the hill.

But perhaps not carefully enough. As we crested the hill toward the mining town of Miami, Richard was focused on steering the Monte along the twisty curves and monitoring the health of the nearly-new motor, and might not have noticed that the 50 mph we'd maintained uphill had increased to some slight degree. And we were indeed driving a bright red sports car with a large rooftop radar-reflecting object, which made it very easy for Officer Skaggs of DPS District 11 Highway Patrol to determine with calibrated scientific accuracy that we just might be exceeding the appropriate speed limit for that segment of US highway. And so it came to pass that the officer had a very pleasant conversation with all of us, and advised us that excessive speed was not a good idea on roadtrips like this.

And with no more blue lights in the rear view, our red car continued into Globe and on east across the San Carlos Apache Reservation, only this time with a more-appropriate awareness of speed zoning. And a hour or so additional driving brought us into the farming town of Pima, where the red and white canopies of Taylor Freeze beckoned us off US 70 and inside for some chilly treats. Taylor Freeze has been an eastern Arizona favorite for over 40 years, and they've just installed video screens running local ads interspersed with episodes of "Simon's Cat", whose line-drawn feline antics caused Duncan to giggle so hard that ice cream almost came up his nose (well, almost).

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Taylor Freeze on US 70 in Pima in its bright red & white glory Soft-serve happiness at Taylor Freeze
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Watching "Simon's Cat" on the Taylor Freeze TV Drama on the whiteboard: "Plants Vs. Plant-Killers!" (note the excellent detail on the chainsaws & venus flytraps)

Did someone say Duncan? Yes, east of Safford and west of the New Mexico line along US 70 is the town of Duncan, Arizona, and while not named after our son, does hold some interest to him for obvious reasons. Dunc posed in the twilight under the "Welcome to Duncan" and city limit signs, and although it was too late to play in the park in the shadow of the F-101 jet, we still had a good yet abbreviated time.

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Welcome to Duncan! It's his city. They just live in it. All Duncan, all the time!

Now it's getting late, and we're finally leaving Arizona. The lights of Lordsburg glinted in the distance as we approached on highway 70, and we cruised down the main drag past the quiet storefronts to seek a motel for the evening. This didn't take long, for as Duncan spotted the bright yellow elephant in the playground in front of the Holiday Motel, he knew where he wanted to stay! Turned out the Holiday has a friendly staff, spacious rooms, and the aforementioned playground (although the indoor pool is on "indefinite hiatus"), and so we unloaded and dozed, with the occasional hoot of a Union Pacific train horn wafting in through the windows.


Day 2 - Sunday, June 10th, 2012
Lordsburg, NM to Balmorhea, TX
359 miles

This day began with Duncan making a visit to the brightly-painted playground in the front of the Holiday Motel. He swung on the sturdy swings shaped like prancing ponies, spun the merry-go-round until deliriously dizzy (with a little help from Dad), and slid down the happy yellow elephant's trunk with a big smile on his face. The smiles continued as the pack-up and load-out continued, and we waved bye-bye to the Holiday and turned east for our second day of journeying.

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Holiday Motel in Lordsburg - jumbo-size fun! Plummeting down the pachyderm A swingin' time on the horsies
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Taking a spin on the merry-go-round We see. We saw.
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A very quiet US 70 in Lordsburg Um, I don't think that "Douglas" is quite right... Absolutely no checks accepted!

Traveling in Monte is definitely a different experience than Truckasaurus. There is a whole lot less extra space in the passenger compartment for maps, toys, and other useful items, but Suzanne notes that having the air conditioning vents very close to one's face and other body parts is an entirely acceptable tradeoff. And the legroom is decent, and the seats are supportive.

But the real difference is in the cargo capacity. Whereas Truckasaurus can carry 4 weeks of luggage, provisions, supplies, and even a bike or two without difficulty, Monte (even with a cartop carrier) takes very careful loading & cramming to get even the absolutely necessary items onboard - in fact, it's much like a 3-D puzzle. But we hope the absence of spare space will keep us from going crazy with the souvenirs (well, maybe).

Where were we? Ah yes, southwestern New Mexico. I-10 in this area is graced with an abundance of bright yellow billboards extolling the wonders to be found at the tourist entrapments run by Bowlin Travel Centers, and so we exited at the Butterfield Stage store to peruse the selections of acrylic saddle blankets, plastic cap guns, and oddball statuary. But the most interesting thing to see was just outside on the upper windowsill - a trio of hungry baby birdies peeping with mouths wide open for mama to bring back a pre-chewed morsel from the desert surroundings.

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Baby birds at the Butterfield Bowlin's

This time, we cruised right thru Las Cruces and down the valley of the Rio Grande on the freeway, and crossed the far west border of Texas to begin a very long stay in that very large state. Just after the line is the Texas welcome center festooned with six flags out front and a whole heckuvalot of stars built into the architecture (a motif that would continue for the next 800+ miles). Dunc asked what was with the starry stuff, and we explained it symbolized the Lone Star of the Republic of Texas of the early 19th century, and Texans' pride in being able to count to five, er, continue the tradition of a proud and still somewhat-independent-minded state. Then, after appropriate maps and brochures were obtained and Duncan explained the plan of our trip to the TxDOT staff (using interpretive dance, to boot!), we hopped back in the car, noted the warning of a closed freeway up ahead, and exited on US 85 for a drive thru downtown El Paso and along the very long stretches of tall weathered steel fencing and closely-parked green-trimmed Border Patrol vehicles along the boundary with Mexico.

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Guess where we y'all are? Seis, er, six, uh, six flags over Texas

We stayed on the local streets on out of town, looking at the bright signs for panaderias, llanteras, and other bilingual businesses (was that a giant horse's head we just passed?) But the city finally gave way to farmland, and we motored through the farmland and villages on state highway 20, getting a much-different travel experience from the busy bustle on I-10 running parallel to us on the arid bluffs nearby. But two-lane 20 runs out near Fort Hancock, and this brought us to the door of Angie's Restaurant, where hearty meals were served to our hungry bellies and gave us a swamp-cooled break from a long day of driving.

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The chicken fried steak has found a home in Fort Hancock

A spell east of here is the big Border Patrol checkpoint near Sierra Blanca, and the less said about that, the better. Although we appreciate DHS' efforts at enforcing our nation's laws, the long waits and surveillance mentality (smile for the cameras, Duncan) didn't help our feelings of travel freedom.

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We are indeedy doing eighty! Peace and quiet for Mom at last! Wait - who's driving the car??!?

Over the rise to Van Horn for refueling, and then plans for the evening's rest. We'd received reliable reports that lodging was scarce and expensive any place where oil rigs were drilling, and Fort Stockton and points east all the way to the Hill Country fit that description. So we exited into the green and quiet little burg of Balmorhea (it's a town, not a medical condition) to scope out the lodging options. Two out of three motels were already filled, and so we pulled in at the El Oso Flojo Lodge (translation: "The Lazy Bear") not knowing quite what to expect.

We found a very attractive courtyard surrounded by some nicely-appointed rooms, but not a human in sight. Finally found a big green button labeled "press here", pressed it, and waited. And waited. Finally, a person appeared, showed the room (nice), and then told us the price. After picking ourselves off the tastefully tiled floor, we considered our options, realized this was probably the best option for 300 miles, forked over a whole lotta credit, and moved in.

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It's a town, not a medical condition... The El Oso Flojo Lodge - not for the faint of wallet Quiet and pleasant courtyard at the El Oso

And that was the last time we saw any sort of staff at that motel again. And that was before we discovered the lack of toiletries and the expensive yet somewhat-clogged shower head (which Richard was able to unclog after some effort).

OK, we're poor and the sun's going down in Balmorhea. We watched a magnificent sunset as the horses grazed under the spreading trees, saw wild turkeys peck their way across the lawn, and Duncan and his dad walked in the twilight along the spring-fed irrigation ditch down to Matta's burger stand for some hometown-good treats, and an extra one to bring back to Suz relaxing in the room. On the way, Duncan picked a dandelion or two, made a wish, blew hard, and I guess we'll find out soon if he gets a pet snail or that his Lego people come to life. Then a few minutes playing in the fountain and sprinklers in the courtyard as the swallows returned to their mud nests on the walls above, and lights out on another travel day.

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Wild turkeys along the spring-fed irrigation Balmorhea sunset Balancing along the Balmorhea boards
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Yummies at Mattas So that's where we can put him!

Day 3 - Monday, June 11th, 2012
Balmorhea, TX to Austin, TX
423 miles

The three wild turkeys (no, not us!) were still hanging around the El Oso Flojo when we departed these pleasant yet overpriced lodgings, and we left leafy Balmorhea behind and merged back onto the freeway for more travel adventure. A spell of driving brought us into Fort Stockton, where a well-timed stop at McDonalds allowed Mom to get breakfast, Dad to get lunch, and Duncan to get some happy scootin' & crawlin' exercise in the brightly-hued play tubes. But Fort Stockton also has another old friend of ours - Paisano Pete, a gigantic roadrunner giving a beady-eyed greeting to the folks passing through town. Duncan made the acquaintance of big Pete, and then it was time for a few more miles of I-10 before exiting onto a much-quieter US 190 for a more-direct route east across this vast state.

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Fooling around in Fort Stockton The legendary Paisano Pete - "watch out, it'll peck your eyes out!"

The towns are few and far between on US 190 in west Texas (actually, this could apply to almost any road in west Texas), and much of the time in the Monte this morning was spent by Suzanne trying to learn how to knit granny squares, and by Duncan making strange things out of his available back seat toy collection. Racking up more miles got us to Iraan for ice cream sandwiches and 87 octane, and then some more driving brought us down the diagonal streets of Eldorado seeking a playground to let Duncan burn off some of that pent-up energy. Didn't find one, but Lowe's Market had a plethora of harmless black beetles scooting around the floor, which Duncan found extremely interesting - well, until one crawled into his shoe, at which time the entire town got to hear his frantic shrieks as he attempted to de-beetlize his footwear. Once the unbeetlement was complete, we purchased pop, meat sticks, and other healthy road trip essentials and continued out the door, leaving behind some smiling faces (and ringing ears).

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Meat-product-assisted socialization with the fine folks in Eldorado

Snippet of conversation:
"Was Stevie Ray Vaughn a serial killer?"
"No, he was a musician."
"He did have a middle name of 'Ray'..."

Texas has a whole herd of counties (254 at last count), and the midsection of Texas is dotted with towns where the roads converge on a central square, a stately courthouse sits surrounded by shade trees and grass, and shops and stores line the square's streets. Mason, the seat of Mason County, is one of these places, and after all that driving the grass and shade certainly did look good (even if the thermometer in front of the bank was flashing 98 degrees). Duncan and Richard trotted a couple laps around the square, and then fallen branches became swords for a father-son battle that ended only when each combatant's weapon had become too splintered for use (and also because Mom said to stop).

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The green & scenic town square in Mason Messin' around in Mason

But when Richard spotted R. Grosse & Sons Hardware across the street, an expedition by the boys was quickly organized to see what wonders lay inside its non-air-conditioned confines. Turns out the Grosse folks have been in business here for 125 years, and the wooden floors and shelves contained all types of useful products for ranch, home, and roadtrippers. As the shopkeeper leaned over the ancient counter and cash register, Duncan related the story of our past and projected adventures to the assembled staff & locals, and was wished well on his journeys. Richard was pleased as well - he got some useful screwdrivers, a multimeter, and a few other items which were only described vaguely as being "perhaps useful for next year's Cub Scout Pinewood Derby car".

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Grosse Hardware - for all your road trip needs! Just like the good old days Displays from ages past still in everyday use
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"So where are you off to, young man?" I'm this much tall!"

We jarred ourselves out of Mason and set course eastward on state highway 29, spotting interesting bottle tree sculptures in Llano (sign: NO PICTURES!!) and the bridges over Lake Buchanan. And it was about this time we received a phone call from the house-sitter with rather interesting news - our trusty shop-vac had decided to burst into flames, but fortunately didn't take the rest of the house with it. And as we pulled into Burnet, we thought a quick fuel-up and snack would put us well-fed, well-fueled, and on schedule for some evening fun in Austin. And so we fueled and fed, put the key back in the ignition, turned, and...

Nothing. The Carlo was apparently kaput.

Try again. Nothing.

Contingency procedures. Check voltage: OK, but dropping out of sight in start mode. Try again. Voltage drops off a cliff. Trouble.

"Sir, can you give us a jump, and directions to the nearest auto parts store?"

Richard abandoned wife & child at the McDonald's (far enough away that they hopefully wouldn't hear any colorful language) and stopped in front of the O'Reilly Auto Parts a short way down the street. A few seconds' testing confirmed the not-all-that-old Optima Red battery had indeed gone belly-up, and so now the task of performing the 12-volt transplant fell to Mr. Moeur's hands and toolbox. The only minor detail is, on a 1996 Monte Carlo, the battery is under:

  1. a frame brace
  2. the washer fluid pump and tank
  3. the engine compartment fuse box
  4. a convoluted bracket with several odd screws

No problem - done it before. Out goes brace, washer junk, & fuse box. Bracket wrestled into submission. Old battery yanked. New battery plopped in place. First retention bolt carefully wriggled into place...

...and the bolt (which of course is irreplaceable and critical to the entire system) slips out of reach, bounces a few times, and falls somewhere into the frame of the vehicle, leaving absolutely no evidence of its location.

NOW we're in trouble.

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Disaster strikes as the car battery goes belly-up in Burnet

Meanwhile, back at the McDonald's, Duncan and his mom had found a new friend - a little butterfly that was trapped and confused in the tubes of the play structure. They carefully coaxed it out into the open air, and then gently let it get back to its fluttery activities.

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Duncan makes a new fluttery friend "Hello, little butterfly!"

The scene shifts back to O'Reilly, where the ever-helpful folks behind the counter lent a floor jack so that an exasperated Richard could have the joy of crawling on his back in between a greasy parking lot and an even-greasier underframe, desperately seeking a small bolt stuck in a large car in humid Texas heat. He prodded, reached (ow! exhaust manifold!!) and searched for what seemed like an eternity, until the very tip of the bolt was seen wedged between two frame members. Aha!

Now that bolt and battery were reunited, the reassembly went smoothly (save for Richard's shredded forearms), and soon a heartfelt thanks was given to the O'Reilly staff (sorry about the mess in the bathroom!) and the Monte and all its occupants were reunited and whizzing east toward the Austin city limits.

But the time lost in the Burnet Battery Blowup was beginning to worry us. Duncan reallyreallyreally wanted to see the millions of bats flying out from under the Congress Street Bridge in downtown Austin every summer night (it's free? good!) - but according to our information, the bats might be leaving before we arrived. So we drove like a... well, you know... south on I-35, exited downtown, turned up & down the maze of streets, found a parking spot, and raced out to the bridge, apparently just in time to witness the impressive spectacle of fuzzy flying rodents.

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Congress Street Bridge in Austin, waiting for the fuzzy flying rodents to awaken Austin skyline reflected in Lake Lady Bird Ice cream delivered by bicycle - the best kind!

But the bats had their own plans. We waited, waited, and waited... and still no bats (OK, a few, but not zillions). Darkness fell, but bats did not rise. 10:00 Central: still no bats. But little Duncan steadfastly held faith that the flying fuzzies would appear, and successfully lobbied the parents into remaining long after most everyone else had left. And finally, about 10:35 or so... the black bats began to stream out from under the dark bridge into the black sky, creating a scene most impressive to a small child with great night vision and good high-frequency hearing ("Look at them!!" "Um, where?")

And now the realization that we're in a rather expensive capital city very late at night, and we haven't even begun looking for a room for the evening. A search turned up a couple cool funky places very close but very unaffordable, and a sense of desperation began to set in. But then we remembered: we have points! Long-hoarded Marriott points, to be exact, which with a jury-rigged Internet connection were turned into a room at the Fairfield Inn on the south side of town. The hotel staff took pity on us and upgraded us to a mini-suite, which looked and felt sweet indeed after such a long and most interesting day.

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Devoured by the folda-bed at the Fairfield

Day 4 - Tuesday, June 12th, 2012
Austin, TX to Galveston, TX
230 miles

After last evening's battiness, the Moeurs weren't all that eager to rise & shine, especially in such a comfy suite, but with another travel day's full itinerary, we didn't have much of a choice. What did help was the breakfast bar at the Fairfield - the Texas-shaped waffles brought smiles to sleepy faces and fullness to empty bellies.

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Good morning, y'all!

Since we were in Austin for the first time, we cruised up Congress Street toward the impressive dome of the state capitol, looking at all the funky shops and oddly-painted food stands that help "keep Austin weird". Just north of the capitol complex is the University of Texas at El Austin, where the orange is burnt, the stadium is enormous, and the Cult of the Longhorn still holds full sway. We hooked around the campus on our sightseeing tour and ended up on double-decked I-35, which then ramped onto a very torn-up US 290, where it seems they're trying to insert a toll road within an already busy expressway. But soon the skyscrapers and traffic barrels gave way to open fields, and a more-relaxing drive across eastern Texas.

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Cruising up Congress Street in Austin "What's the capitol of Texas?" "Austin... and Ally!"
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The High Temple of Burnt Orange Multidimensional Texas freeways

Like many Texas highways, 290 is a high-speed expressway between inhabited areas, but settles down to mosey through towns as the main street. And as we approached Giddings, we thought it might be nice to stop for a brief break, and the Lee County General Store seemed like just the place to do so. This place is actually very much a working tack shop and feed store, which is a refreshing break from the more-touristy stops we've made. And they have quite a few things we couldn't find at home, such as ultra-durable collars and chew toys for our dynamic dogs, along with affordable gel-cell batteries to keep some lights running.

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Fun stop at the general store Too much fun with the puppy toys

We galloped out of Giddings (figuratively, anyway) and continued east, until some logistics discussions convinced us of two things: one, that it would be best to grab lunch before Houston rather than in that sprawling megalopolis, and that said lunch would best be of the barbecue kind, now that we were well within the lands of expertly smoked and sauced meats. Some billboards advised us of a place in Waller just off the highway, and we exited into what seemed to be a nondescript truck-plaza-style gas station and convenience mart. But there was certainly a BBQ place within, and our taste buds were bedazzled by the brisket, along with a marinated pork chop which made Richard most gruntled for the afternoon's drive.

As we approached the big city, Suzanne noticed what looked to be blue circles on the shoulder pavement with a stylized "S" in the middle. It turns out that this highway is a hurricane evacuation route, and the "S"s were hurricane symbols to denote this status. In fact, the inbound lanes on US 290 can be reversed for 4 lanes of storm-fleeing excitement, with folding signs facing the "wrong" direction flipped down for guidance. And soon we were enveloped in the bustling sprawl of Houston, with "Gypsy" the GPS recommending the direct route through the heart of the city instead of the surrounding beltway. And the good thing about this routing is that it gave us a whole bunch of time to look at Houston's downtown skyline - as we sat stuck in teeming traffic. But eventually I-45 unclogged, and we maintained our motoring along the vast flatness of the Gulf marshlands.

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Impressive (and congested) downtown Houston

Duncan, like many 7-year-old boys, is a big fan of anything related to rockets or outer space, and still lists "astronaut" at the very top of his current career choices. And what better place to experience than the very heart and headquarters of the manned US space program (or what's left of it)? The Johnson Space Center is the home of the legendary Mission Control, along with the training facilities that keep our corps of astro-men & astro-women up to date on the latest in exoplanetary technology. And JSC has one of the only three Saturn V moon rockets remaining in existence - rescued from the swamps outside, it now sits proudly in an enclosure documenting the history and triumphs of the Apollo program, where kids (and parents who were kids when they actually launched these things) can ooh and ahh at the massive F1 engines, look up at the enormous diameter and length of the boosters, and smirk at the truly ancient electronics (which did indeed seem to get the job done). But although Duncan thought the Saturn and ISS stuff was way cool, his very favorite place was the space-themed play area, where all the junior cosmo-kids could cavort in gee-whiz enjoyment.

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Rendezvous with our first space-related destination Roger, we have docking Go for goofy tourist fun!
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Honoring the recently-retired shuttle fleet Mockups of the International Space Station. But if they're mockups, are we supposed to make fun of them? ;) "Zarya" - Russian for "Duncan thinks it's cool"
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Little Joe & bigger Duncan Big new box for JSC's Saturn V rocket As tall as a 36-story building - the massive Saturn V
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"Son, when I was your age, we used to actually fly these things!" Even the second stage is pretty darn big Faith 7 - an original Mercury capsule
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We are go for launch! That's one small step for a seven-year-old... wait, all steps by 7-year-olds are small Cool space helmet, or effective child silencing device? :)

When closing time came, we undocked our little spaceman from the exhibits and displays, rendezvoused with the Monte Carlo mothership in the docking area (which was displaying exactly 42000.0 miles on the odometer, by the way), and proceeded back toward I-45, noting that what was empty fields back on our last visit in 1999 was now an endless expanse of eateries, hotels, and mini-malls. Something (intuition? adventure? fate? a bad sense of direction?) led us southward on I-45 instead of north, and a while, some bridges, a refinery or three, and a bunch of seagulls later, the Interstate sputtered out onto the main street of Galveston Island. Since we were already here and the sun was quickly drooping, we figured we'd see if we could find anything nice and cheap in lodging, knowing full well that beach resort destinations typically were anything but affordable. But it was a Tuesday, and we have a sense of adventure, and so we found a room at the Surf Motel only a few feet from the waves of the Gulf. And after some takeout pizza and shooing a few little critters, we did end up having a rather decent night (the window A/C unit did do a good job of muffling the occasional partygoer out on the street).


Day 5 - Wednesday, June 13th, 2012
Galveston, TX to Slidell, LA
362 miles

The morning sun was obscured by clouds as we roused ourselves to face another day. But Duncan knew there was a shoreline just outside our door, so clouds or not, he was absolutely determined to have some beachy-keen fun. So he & his dad hiked their flip-flops and towels across Seawall Boulevard, to where the waves of the Gulf lap at the gray-white sands. The occasional bouts of drizzle didn't slow the guys down in their splashing & seashell collection, and Richard took the opportunity to impart to Duncan all his decades of sand castle construction experience.

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Galveston Beach on the Gulf of Mexico Carefree play on a seaweed-enhanced beach Clouds billow over the Gulf
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Constructing our castles "Heylookatmynewhataccessory!" Meet "Mr. Sand Man"

As we loaded our items back in the car, the sun and humidity came out in full force, and just a few minutes in the salty air was an utterly sweat-drenching experience. Even a post-loadout quick cold shower didn't help, for as soon as we left the room the heated mugginess mugged us again. So into the car and cruise the streets with our faces pressed to the air conditioner vents, looking at some of the historic buildings that have somehow survived several devastating hurricanes that have periodically swept the island.

At the northeast end of the island, the streets dead-end into the parking lot for the ferry crossing to Port Bolivar and the continuation of Texas highway 87 across the bay. Our timing couldn't have been better, as a Texas DOT ferryboat was just loading up vehicles for the eastbound run, and we drove aboard for a waterborne leg of our transcontinental journey. The MV "Robert H. Dedman", named after a noted former chair of the Texas Highway Commission, rumbled across the busy Houston Ship Channel with our car and many others on board, and we enjoyed the view of the bay, the submarine and destroyer escort at the park, and the seagulls dive-bombing the snack-laden tourists on the auto deck. But it's not a lengthy journey, and before we knew it we were rolling off the ramp and onto the sandy strand, passing the long lines of cars waiting for the westbound ride.

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Riding the ferry across Galveston Bay Happy family on the water It's like a bridge - that moves!
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Seeing the submarines & other scenery Watching the other ferries putter by "I'm the king of the... Gulf of Mexico!"

The Bolivar Peninsula is like many barrier islands (or near-islands) lining the Gulf coast, but isn't as overly-developed as other sections. A notable feature of the local architecture is that nearly every single building looked like it was up on stilts - due to the frequent hurricanes and storm surges that sweep completely across the peninsula, anything solidly built at ground level would end up clogging the Intracoastal Waterway after the storm subsided (and the insurance agent wouldn't be too happy, either). So everything's built on a pile of piers until it's 10-20 feet up, which makes for great shade for parked dune buggies or picnic tables.

The roadway turns north near Stowell, leaving an eastward view of abandoned chunks of a former road which seemingly became too much work to maintain given the frequent foul weather. It was about this time we saw a plume of sinister black smoke coming from some land near the highway, and we repeatedly pulled over as seemingly every piece of fire apparatus in southeast Texas was on its way to fight the leaping orange flames easily seen from the highway. When in Winnie, we decided not to get back on I-10, but instead take route 73 to the industrial town of Port Arthur, where the barbeque was good, the motor fuel was affordable, and the sign at the local drug store was showing minus 196 degrees Fahrenheit (OK, the rain storm did cool things down a bit, but not that much!) Then a drive over the elegant bridges spanning the Neches River and through Orange, the easternmost town (almost) in this oversized state, and after 74 hours of being trapped in Texas, we crossed the Sabine River and made it into Louisiana on a busy segment of Interstate 10.

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Duncan loves him some Texas BBQ! Funny, it doesn't feel that cold...
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Graceful bridges span the Neches River Cruising under the cable stays

Now don't get us wrong - we like Louisiana. In fact we spent several days exploring this L-shaped state on our Big 2008 Road Trip. But today we needed to get back on schedule, and so we punched the accelerator and sped along at 70+ across the most of the state when the traffic and rainstorms permitted.

But we still knew how to have a lil' bit of Looziana fun. In Jennings, we exited for a spell to visit the Oil and Gas Park right alongside the freeway, where Duncan had a ball clambering on the play structures shaped like oil derricks and oversized fish. But the park also has something a bit more reptilian - the "Chateau des Cocodries" has an enormous live alligator (and his buddy the 100+ year old snapping turtle) out front, and baby gators inside just perfect for 7-year-old kids to hold, cuddle, and pose with (no, son, we cain't take him home...) And as long as we kept fingers and other appendages away from those little snapping jaws, everyone was happy.

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Our 'lil roughneck at Oil & Gas Park in Jennings Big boy, bigger fish "Please, can we keep it?"

Gotta keep goin' across Cajunland. We felt the thumpety-thumpety-thumpety-thumpety as the Monte's suspension resonated with the joints as we traversed the many (many!) miles of causeway over the green Atchafalaya swamps (But why? Be-cause-way like you!! :) And then back onto somewhat-solid land, over the mighty Mississippi River on a truck-clogged bridge in the heart of Baton Rouge, and thenanimmediaterightturnNOW to stay on I-10 (and then leftleftLEFT!) to head east on I-12 and bypass the greater New Orleans area (we'll tell you about it when you're older, son...)

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The seemingly-endless causeways over the Atchafalaya swamps Bumper to bumper over the mighty Mississippi

Now it's late in the day, and even though we'd had some occasional extravehicular fun, we all had been cooped up in the car for a while, with no break in sight. About this time, Mr. Crankypants occupying the back seat decided he'd had enough with the folks in front, and proceeded to wall himself off using a combination of Legos, sun shades, blankets, and anything else convenient. Unfortunately, we could still hear him. We got the hint and exited when we saw the bright black-red-white facade of a Steak 'n Shake restaurant in Covington; however, son decided to be a grumblypuss all through the ordering process. Wisely deciding to convert the order into a to-go, we attempted to adjust child's attitude with only mild success, until a folding cardboard convertible thoughtfully provided by the overworked wait staff suddenly turned Mr. Unhappy back into a smiling kid suitable for continued travel.

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Cranky boy in backseat fort: "Just pretend I don't exist until we get to the motel!" A bit happier now we're at Steak 'n Shake

Back in the car for a few miles farther, then an exit onto US 190 to cruise the small towns in the twilight to seek a couple beds for the night. Didn't see much until the other side of US 11 in Slidell, but eventually we happened upon the Value Travel Inn (and its modest rates) and unloaded for some rest. Then a quiet evening punctuated by only the ribbiting of frogs in the puddles outside the room and an unplanned visit from a friendly stray pit bull ("Can we keep her too?" "No..."), and a long busy day is complete.

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Value Inn in Slidell - complete with puppy!

Day 6 - Thursday, June 14th, 2012
Slidell, LA to Bonifay, FL
281 miles

We awoke to a muggy east Louisiana morning, where the eyeglasses fog up as soon as you leave the motel room and the sulfur-scented water seems to be everywhere. Duncan was delighted when a teeny green frog hopped its way into the room while we were loading out, and eventually the room was packed up and de-frogged and we were ready to go - just in time to see two other guests of the lodging establishment having a loud and violent domestic disturbance in the parking lot. Fortunately the motel manager was right on top of it, and several cars of the St. Tammany Parish Sheriff's Office showed up to provide (ahem) "remedial mediation" between the two parties as we quietly departed.

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Hello, little Louisiana motel froggy!

In 2005, the entire U.S. watched scenes of destruction as Hurricane Katrina bore down on the Gulf coast with monstrous waves and devastating winds. Now, seven years later, we decided to exit onto US 90 to again visit one of our favorite stretches of coastline. It was heartening to see that many businesses and residences had indeed rebuilt, and the brand-new bridges and causeways built after the original girders and pavement were sent to the bay floor by 20-foot waves were pleasant and impressive, offering scenic views and accommodations for strolling pedestrians. But we were saddened to see that lots of lots along the highway were still barren, save for a concrete slab or a stub of twisted metal that told of where a store, shop, or other business once stood. And some of the places we'd stopped in years gone by were gone without a trace.

So it was a happy sight indeed when we spied the brightly-painted gator-rific jaws in front of Souvenir City seemingly chomping their way toward the US 90 traffic. Within the reconstructed building, we gazed on endless rows of colored seashells, questionably-tasteful towels and T-shirts, relics of the previous tourist traps which fell to Katrina's wrath, and an extensive selection of rubber reptiles, which Duncan immediately set forth playing with while the parents cruised the aisles. One particular squeaky-voiced alligator caught Dunc's eye, was dubbed "Allidilla", paid for at the register, and so an an enduring road trip partnership was born. For the rest of the day, Duncan told Allidilla about our plans for our trip and how much fun they'd have together, and Allidilla repaid the attention with happy squeaks and occasional rubber-jawed chomps on unsuspecting appendages.

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Happy Flag Day from the Mississippi coast! Even after 7 years, still much evidence of Katrina's destructive power But tacky tourism lives again on the Gulf Coast, devouring children & wallets!
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CHOMP! Canwepleasegetahermitcrabpleasepleaseplease? Down Highway 90, an old toothy friend reappears

When we reached the reconstructed waterfront casinos of Biloxi, we looped over the ramps of I-110 and rejoined the freeway, zooming east to Pascagoula (and a quick Hardee's lunch) and on into the state of Alabama. Only a few miles later, we were along the Mobile waterfront, the sight of so many happy times during the first part of our 2008 trip. We figured we had time to revisit one of those interesting places, and so we fed the parking meter beside the Gulf Coast Exploreum and proceeded inside. Duncan still had fond memories of the "Wharf of Wonder" exhibit which taught children about the sea and its creatures, but we warned Duncan that he might be too old to be granted admission. However, the Exploreum had just changed their policy to allow kids up to seven years of age to go wow at WoW, and our boy was ecstatic that he was allowed to again swim in the blue ball pit and play with the durable polymer swordfish and eels. In fact, the two-hour parking was coming perilously close to expiration when we were finally able to persuade Dunc to rejoin our eastward journey, and we zoomed under the tunnel and over the bridge with a fresh set of happy memories and realigned attitudes.

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The Gulf Coast Exploreum in downtown Mobile - lots of educational fun for the family "I love the Wharf of Wonder!!"
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Scooping up the fish & other fun things Swimming thru the spherical sea

It wasn't all the far from Mobile when we saw the signs announcing we had reached the state of our destination (and the 4th one of the day) - Florida at last! But some quick calculations noted that we still had almost 500 miles still to go before Orlando, so we puttered around Pensacola and the north edge of Eglin Air Force Base. We did stop when we saw the distinctive peaked roof of a genuine Stuckey's by the side of the highway, and although a bit shocked at how expensive the taffy and Goo Goo Clusters had become, we did manage to find a few affordable items for snacking and play.

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Hooray for Stuckey's!

It was getting late in the day and the weather was becoming uncooperative, so Richard steered the bright red Monte onto US highway 90 to get away from the endless boring lines of trees than characterized the scenery on I-10. DeFuniak Springs had some interesting motels and shops, but we chose to continue a little while longer on the 2-lane highway. And as we bumbled into Bonifay drenched by a summer shower, the signs at the Economy Lodge caught our eye, promising we would arrive as guests but leave as friends. Turns out the folks at the Economy were exceptionally friendly, putting us up in a 3-bed room at a very modest price, and seeing to all our needs as we moved our stuff out of the rain (supervised by Allidilla the alligator, of course). Up the street, the happy porcine sign of the Piggly Wiggly grocery store welcomed us in for a re-stocking of our food supply in advance of our long Orlando stay, and the dollar store next door was fun to explore. Then a very enjoyable dinner right before closing time under the sign at Simbo's (now called Scott's), and then back to the Economy for a TV movie and some well-earned sleep.

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Piggly Wiggly - the place of yummy replenishment

Day 7 - Friday, June 15th, 2012
Bonifay, FL to Orlando, FL
391 miles

This day began with a certain 7-year-old exclaiming "there's a pool!" and dragging poor Dad out the door for a few minutes of watery fun while Mom packed up the stuff (at least, that was the cover story).

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There's nothing quite like a refreshing dip in a sparkling pool (complete with strange statuary) to start the day! And then a delightful alfresco shower!

Eventually it was time to leave our very nice 3-bed abode at the Economy Lodge, and we bade farewell to the very friendly staff, turned east on US 90, and made it about 100 feet before our progress was arrested by the aroma of freshly-cooked barbecue. On the corner at the traffic light, a group of local teen softballers and their parents had set up a smoker and tables and were selling some most delicious pulled pork, baked beans and sweet corn to fund their travel to the state championships. We contributed our bit to the Bonifay ball gals, and in turn enjoyed a most excellent lunch as we turned east on I-10 to resume our journey.

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Bonifay barbecue fundraiser for the girls' softball team - it was great! Going to State!

After some consultation with the AAA maps (yes, we have GPS & smartphone, but there's still no substitute for a badly-folded piece of colorfully-squiggled paper between the lap and the steering wheel), we veered off I-10 to take a more directly diagonal course toward central Florida. This took us through Altha and Blountstown, where a local service station yielded 87-octane fuel, 33 cent blue ice cream bars (yum), and the bad news that our Sunoco card had expired (oops).

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Do you suffer from Blue Tongue Syndrome? If so, seek additional frozen-treat-based therapy immediately.

Then onto US 98 and a few miles thru the pines, springs, and swamps, and then a right turn on US 19 and the motel-lined main street of Perry. Is it time for second lunch yet!? Yes, yes it is. We hurdled into the Huddle House, where Suzanne's order of "breakfast for lunch - why not?" turned into a long disquisition by the staff on the appropriate admixtures for the proper consumption of grits - salt or pepper, or perhaps sugar, or maybe even eggs?

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Breakfast for lunch at the Huddle House in Perry (Hey, where's Perry?)

Meanwhile, Allidilla the squeaky Biloxi alligator has been a great traveling companion, and Duncan has proclaimed him his "favorite toy" (which Lego Buddy has taken very gracefully).

And here is where Allidilla saves our vacation.

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"Hi, I'm Allidilla, your son's new favorite toy alligator, and I'm saving your vacation by reminding you that you left your camera back at the Huddle House."

After our meal, while motoring south on 4-lane US 19, we thought it would be fun to take a photo of the gator on the dashboard as we zoomed thru rural Florida. Richard reached down to the camera case, rummaged a bit, and then realized that the camera was not in its assigned location. In fact it wasn't anywhere within 15 miles of us.

A phone call back to the Huddle House revealed that the camera apparently liked the restaurant so much that it decided to stay there for a spell - well, until the very nice waitress took it into temporary foster care.

So we made a fast U-turn... right in front of a sheriff's deputy ("yes sir, you see, we left something... why thank you, and you have a nice day too") and zipped back to Perry (at legal speeds) to retrieve our camera companion.

Ok, where were we? Still about 200 miles from Orlando, and with daylight disappearing soon. Back south on US 19 yet again, then east on US 27 Alt, a stop at a BP restroom in Old Town (yes, that's the name of the town) that will be memorable for all the wrong reasons (and we'll leave it at that), more miles eastbound on 27 (hey, there's US 41 which we saw in January), and a merge onto a very busy I-75 carrying a pile of trucks & other vehicles southward toward Tampa, Miami, and other Florida places.

Maybe a teeny more time for touristy stuff. The orange-studded billboards of the Florida Citrus Center lured us off the freeway and straight into the gaping jaws of a waiting alligator. Somehow we escaped, though, and scanned the shelves littered with every imaginable type and color of seashell and citrus-flavored souvenir, escaping with only a cute little cowrie turtle to keep Duncan's gator company.

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When in Florida, do as the oranges do... ...and our car is immediately devoured by a giant alligator He's a big 'un!

"Are we there yet? How many more miles?" was the alternating plaintive cry from the back seat as we traveled southeast on Florida's Turnpike in the twilight, occasionally handing loose change to the toll-takers (hey, nice shirt). We exited into the suburban sprawl of the Orlando area, cruised south and east on the wide arterials, crossed the neon-bedecked mayhem of International Drive, snuck thru a wall of cars for the final left turn, made our search past the Quality Inn, Quality Inn and Quality Inn for our Quality Inn, bumped (literally) up the steep driveway, shut off the engine, and after 7 days and 2,200 miles called our outbound leg complete.

But wait. We have to move in. Turns out the place is bigger than we thought, and so we hunted down a bell cart, dumped out the cartop carrier (and detached the carrier itself for good measure), and humped our stuff into our two-room $58 suite for the next eleven nights.

And even though it's after 10 PM Eastern, the day isn't over yet. Richard was tasked with foraging for a suitable dinner for the gang, and he bravely made his way along the backways, vacant lots, and footpaths that separate our hotel from the entertainment and eateries of I-Drive. A brisk search turned up $3.33 pizzas at Cici's, which were then transported back to the room for immediate devouring and future food needs. Then a collapse into the beds about 1 AM, and a few hours of happy sleep to sort out our memories of the eastbound journey.

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Quality Suites Orlando - our home for the next eleven nights Snug as a bug in a rug in Orlando


Next Stage: Or-Lan-Dough


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Latest Historical Revisionism 29 July 2012 (format fixes)

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