Day 1, The Journey.

Editor’s Note: Okay, I am writing these entries on the fly and am a few days behind. Deal with it. {LOL}

It never fails. The Coach and I can never get on the road on time. We have good intentions, really we do, but it always takes longer to pack the car than we anticipate. This time, the biggest problem had to do with our new suitcases; they are definitely not made to fit in the trunk of a Mustang convertible. We managed, but our whole backseat is full of food – the coolers, the picnic food, etc. We could not cram another thing into the car if we wanted to!

Once we got on the road, we drove and drove and drove some more. Honestly, the worst leg of the trip came in Missouri. Damn, but it takes forever to get across that state and there’s really nothing visually interesting along our route, unless you want to talk about the numerous signs for Branson, for Merrimac Caverns, or for these lovely little “Kum & Go” gas stations which, in the words of B., “sounds like something the FDA should stamp over Paris Hilton’s mouth.”

After driving forever, reading through essays about the states (apparently Illinois is first in everything  - or at least, that’s what Dave Eggers thinks), we finally arrived in Oklahoma City. Now, originally, we were going to stop in Tulsa for dinner, but the on/off ramps there are crazy bad so we never got off the Interstate. Halfway to OK City, we realized that this very same thing happened last year! In 2007, however, we had no clue about our food choices and ended up eating at Carl’s Jr. (a horrible, horrible gastric experience). This year, we were savvier: we stopped at Ricky’s Café for good, fast Mexican food. {Sidebar: Oklahoma is on the cusp between decent Mexican food and that crappy shit they serve in the Midwest} I had the tamales, The Coach had chimis, and we both ended up with the free sopapias, soaked in honey.

Full of good food and slightly sleepy, we climbed back into the car (avoiding the crazy backpacker that was hitting up people for cash) and set out for Texas. For the record, people in Oklahoma cannot drive. Now, I hate to stereotype everyone in the state, but seriously, how many times can someone tailgate us at 80 miles per hour? Needless to say, we survived long enough to cross into Texas without dying – or worse – getting a dent in Sally’s exterior.

Now, I want to give all of my readers a lesson in Texas geography. There is nothing, and I do mean nothing, between Shamrock and Amarillo – or at least it feels that way in the dark of night. We made the mistake of not stopping in Shamrock, thinking that we could find a decent hotel along I-40 if we got too tired to continue on. What were we thinking? By the time we got to Amarillo, The Coach was sick of my armadillo jokes …

On the way home:

• Must stop at Cattlemen’s in Oklahoma City for a tasty slab of dead cow.
• Must stop at the Cadillac Ranch.
• Must keep The Coach from taking the 72 ounce steak challenge in Armadillo Amarillo.