A stereotypical scene when one imagines the Southwest. It seemed like a good first page picture. Old Town Albuquerque. A Dianne Lima photo.
October 3
It was a beautiful morning in Fresno. The air was warm enough to remind people that Summer was still lurking around. But, an underlying chill in the air also said that Fall was just around the corner. We headed over to the airport to pick up our car. We had obtained a Dodge Stratus from Dollar Rent-a-Car for our trip. It wasn’t anything too fancy, but it had enough room for our suitcases and the other things we brought with us; like CDs, cameras, and food.
We drove back home and finished packing. Despite our good intentions to leave by 10:30 a.m., we didn’t leave until just after noon. For some reason, I felt a slight bit of apprehension as we pulled out of our driveway. I usually feel some trepidation as I leave for a trip, but I always attributed it to my fear of flying. But, this trip was strictly a road trip. Any flying that would be done would be unintentional. Yet, the slight nervousness was still there. I chalked it up to us leaving the safe confines of home during an uncertain time in the world.
Dianne did the driving for the first leg of the trip. She wanted to drive until sunset, at which point I’d take over for the night driving. We made an uneventful drive through the San Joaquin Valley. Once we got to Bakersfield, we turned onto Highway 58 for the drive to Barstow. It was a little different passing through this area. I had been on this road five years earlier with my brother on our way to Atlanta. As I drove on it again, the memories of that earlier trip flooded back.
We made it to Barstow and turned onto Highway 40 for the long drive to Flagstaff. The sun began to set as we drove through the desert. The fading red light reflected off the desert landscape, providing some spectacular vistas. Eventually, the sunlight was replaced by the man-made lights of Needles. I had been in Needles before and felt that it was the closest thing to hell on earth. Ugly, desolate, and hot were my initial impressions. My second visit didn’t change my mind much. The heat was gone, but everything else was the same. We stopped at a Carl’s Jr. for our dinner. After our quick meal, it was back in the car to Flagstaff.
It was dark when we crossed the border into Arizona. I was disappointed by this fact, because I once again missed seeing the Colorado River. I had crossed it at night on the way to Atlanta and on my way back. Thus, I was hoping to actually see it on this trip. Such wouldn’t be the case on the drive over.
The drive through Arizona was relatively boring. Eventually, we could make out that the desert landscape was slowly being replaced by pine trees and tall grass. The change in landscape told us that we were getting close to Flagstaff. It wasn’t long before we saw the lighted sign of Flagstaff’s Holiday Inn. We pulled in and checked into our room. After a nine and a half-hour drive, we were ready for some serious sleep. The sleep was needed because we had plans to do some hiking at the Grand Canyon the next day.
October 4 Home
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