My friends Kathy and Marty have a business called, for reasons I won't go into here, Howdy-to-Your-Face--for which they make and sell garb to SCA folk. One of their most important events is Estrella War held every President's Day weekend near Phoenix, Az. Kathy asked me to come along this year because she didn't want to go alone and Marty was working. My husband Dan decided to come along since he had a lot of unused vacation time and besides, unlike me, he drives. Eventually it turned out that Marty could come anyway since he wasn't working wherever it was anymore, but by that time Dan had gotten two weeks off and didn't want to hang around home where work could find him. We also found out we were taking Chelsea, Kathy and Marty's younger daughter. (I hope you understand that because it still confuses me.)

The pattern of the Crisis of the Day set itself early on: we were scheduled to leave on a Sunday morning, but we got a call from Kathy Saturday night--her chemise maker had just called and asked when it was they'd be needing those chemises for Estrella that she hadn't finished. The result was that Kathy had to spend Sunday making chemises since they're one of the most important items she stocks. It wasn't that big a deal since we figured we were leaving about a day early anyway. (Except that most of our clothes and other stuff were already packed in the U-haul.)

On Monday morning Marty called. Chelsea had fallen out of the top bunk during the night, but she'd seemed all right at the time. This morning, though, her arm was swollen and sore so she had to be taken to the ER to see if it was broken. It wasn't--she'd dislocated one of the lower bones, but it had popped back in, such are the virtues of being 10 years old--however it took the hospital 4 hours to figure this out. Ibuprofen and an ace bandage were all that were needed.

We took off at noon and we seemed to be making good time, until Effingham, IL, about two hours out of Bloomington (the one in Indiana, not the Illinois one.) The truck made a suspicious "ping!" and all of a sudden we had only fourth gear. We got the car to a truck stop which directed us to a gas station down the road. They made the diagnosis pretty quickly--there were metal filings in the transmission fluid. The truck had lost its transmission--the third one in a year.

The quick thinking among you will realize that we had two crises that day, but it averages out later.

This left us in something of a bind. This was Howdy's first show of the season and they had to get to it so as to have the cash foundation for the next one. Dan and I might have gone home but we'd been planning this vacation for months and were reluctant to cancel it. So Kathy and Marty got on the pay phones and started calling car rental agencies. The Effingham-Mattoon, IL area has quite a few, but we needed a vehicle that would hold five passengers and a lot of bulky merchandise. Eventually they found somewhere that had a minivan which was more or less suitable. It was now about 4:30 and the rental place closed at 6:00. We were assured that the van would be driven right over to the fast food place we were phoning from. By 5:45 no one had shown up so we called the rental agency who told us they couldn't get the van tonight after all. (They had the phone number of the restaurant, BTW, they just weren't going to bother to let us know we were stuck for the night.) Luckily there was a motel right behind the fast food place.

Early in the morning Dan and Marty got picked up by the woman from the rental agency and found out the crisis of that day--the company didn't like taking cash, so on top of paying a week's rental (and a week meant that we would have to have the van back on Tuesday which would mean leaving the event early) they had us put down a couple of hundred dollars deposit (which we thought at the time included insurance). This left us really strapped for cash. At least the vehicle was a nice one, with less than 100 miles on it. (At the end of the trip we'd roll over 4000 miles on the odometer.) We spent the morning packing the van. Everything from Kathy and Marty's truck and the U-Haul had to be fitted into the back of the minivan. The plastic totes the merchandise was packed in were too bulky, so the garb was just piled in the back of the van and the totes left in the dead truck. We were on the road about eleven and made good time. (We made good time through the whole trip as long as we were moving. It was just when we had to stop we had problems.)

I had only been to Missouri once before--on the way to MidAmericon in KC in 1976. (Where I met Dan.) I hadn't remembered how lovely the state was. The only improvement I could think of was to see if someone could do something about the plethora of Jesse James Museums--or maybe signs for the Jesse James Museums, I'm not sure which. The only thing we saw more of was signs for the Walnut Bowl Outlet. A place that sells, you guessed it, walnut bowls. It seems that Kathy had a long time ambition to stop at the Walnut Bowl Outlet to buy teriyaki bowls. It's not that she lusts to serve teriyaki in attractive bowls, but that she loves to bead and someone had told her that teriyaki bowls are the perfect bowl for holding beads. (I'm only quoting her. I prefer little bottles that are constantly falling over spilling beads everywhere.)

We went through the Ozarks as it got dark, and stopped at our first piece of genuine American kitsch--the Largest McDonald's in the World! It's on I-44 east of Tulsa on the tollway. If you're from the Chicago area it stretches across the interstate like an Oasis over the Tollway. According to the signs it has more square footage than the MickeyD's in either Moscow or Beijing but it only seats 400 people as opposed to 900 in Beijing. The majority of the space is taken up by two gift shops--one regular Southwestern Tourist Junk shop, and a McGift shop, where you can buy t-shirts or most anything else your heart desires with McStuff on it, and the Will Rogers Museum. The place is quite impressive at night arching over the highway, hundreds of little lights outlining the giant arches. And the restrooms are clean.

After we made our quick pilgrimage to McFastfood land we headed toward Okla City. (That's what all the signs called it.) When we stopped to pay at the toll booth midway along the route the attendant asked if we'd seen any hitchhikers. We said we hadn't and she told us that three men had escaped from the local mental institution and should be in this area right about now. It wasn't a problem--we weren't going to be picking up any hitchikers. As it was one of us in the back had to be in a sort of "jumpseat" jury-rigged from cloaks and suitcases.

We awakened the next morning in Okla City, which was good, since that's where we'd gone to bed. The theme for the day turned out to be kitsch (as did so much of the rest of the trip.) The Crisis was dwindling funds.

Our mid-morning potty stop was at one of the Cherokee Trading Posts dotted along I-40. We broke out the camera for the first time, not to get a picture of us, but of the candy machine by the door. It was a "King Kactus" model--shaped like a three armed saguaro. (Saguaro do not naturally occur in Oklahoma.)

We made another potty stop, and lunch stop just over the Texas border in Shamrock. It was a fairly normal McD's except for the restroom sinks, which were shaped like the great state itself. We got a picture of THAT too. (How could we not?)

Next photo opportunity was the Leaning Tower of Texas, immediately followed by the Largest Cross in this Hemisphere (northern I think).

The Leaning Tower of Texas is a water tower painted red and white and leaning at about a 30 degree angle. It is just off the exit for the cross. Apparently there was once a Leaning Tower Truck Stop next to it, but all that's left of it is a rusty pole barn and a couple of signs one of which has a mini Leaning Tower on top of it. Otherwise that's it. Just this caterwumpus water tower in the middle of nowhere.

The Cross is more impressive. It is huge--we didn't ask how tall, though we should have--and for all its obvious attempt to be a big attraction we never did see any tourist information on it.

Now, you understand that my definition of "flat" as regards geography had just been seriously altered. The panhandle of Texas is flat. Flat as a pancake, flat as stale pop, flat as--as--West Texas (of which we saw a great deal more later.....). It defines itself.

So there in the middle of all this FLAT is a white corrugated steel cross, which is ca. 100' tall. You can see it from a long ways away. The catch is that the face of the cross is beveled, so one's first impression is not so much, "Wow, a cross!" so much as "Why is there a giant floating 'L' in the sky?"

We pulled up beside it--it was windy, but as Kathy (raised in Midland, TX) and Marty (born in Odessa) pointed out if there wasn't wind we wouldn't be in Texas. (Note to first time visitors to Texas: never open two car doors at once if you have anything lighter than an 50 pound anvil in your car.) At the base of the cross are a group of life-sized bronzes depicting the 12 stations of the cross. (Which I had to explain to Kathy, Marty, who were raised sort of Baptist or Pentecostal, and Chelsea who is being raised by Kathy and Marty as a sortapaganifshewantstobe. I was raised a Methodist and I have no idea where I picked up this information.) Actually it was the 7 or 8 stations of the cross, since it is still a work in progress. The "theme" is kept up throughout the whole area--the light stanchions are crosses, and there is a brick walk, with darker colored crosses picked out going up the brick walk to the bronze crucifixion scene on an (artificial) hill. There's also an information booth. (I could sort of feel sorry for the woman who was stuck out there all day in the middle of grass, wind and religion. I hope it's a vocation, not a martyrdom.) And there is also a little building with a full scale reproduction of the Shroud of Turin, supplemented by a dozen or so magazine articles refuting the various studies of the Shroud that show that it's a fake.

Our rapidly dwindling cash balance was beginning to worry us. However, at a truck stop west of Amarillo our miracle occurred. Kathy had been trying to get hold of a friend she knew would be able to wire her money. His phone had been acting weird--no answer then cutting her off after a few rings--so she'd talked to her oldest son, who was house-sitting for us, and asked him to go visit the friend. At the truck stop she dialed her son's pager and was answered by the friend; her son had left his pager with him. He wired us a badly needed $300--we had to turn around and go back to Amarillo to collect the cash, though.

Luckily this took us back past the Cadillac Ranch a second time, so Dan could get a photo of ten Caddys with their noses buried in the ground. The postcard we bought later shows that they are painted with various hotrod slogans, that look to be ca. early '60s in inspiration if not actual date. Our picture shows this odd little row of things sticking up, which could be menhirs or very skinny ostriches.

We hung around a grocery store in Amarillo, which looked remarkably like a grocery store in Indiana, waiting for the money to arrive. After the cash arrived Kathy bought various supplies and a book for me, since I'd finished my Ngaio Marsh the day before in the car--Mark Furhman's Murder in Greenwich: Who Killed Martha Moxley . (I think Teddy did it.) Marty took five bucks to play in one of the lottery machines that lets you pick your scratch off cards. Two kids, not quite school age were fiddling around at the vending machine near him. He picked his first card and was trying to decide what he wanted next when the little boy leaned over, pushed two buttons, grabbed the cards and took off at high speed. Marty followed him to his mother, who had a terrible time getting the cards back from a screaming child who admitted he'd taken them but didn't want to give them up. When Marty got back to the machine the kid's sister had calmly punched the buttons and made her picks, but at least she handed him the cards. They were all losers.

On this note we headed off into strong headwinds and got the hell out of Texas.

My pictures show it was just twilight when we stopped at the welcome center in New Mexico. I like New Mexico. It looks somewhat like a singed cat, but a scenic singed cat. Actually, it's gorgeous.

The welcome center was designed to look like a Spanish Mission. The interior kept this theme up--even to the styling of the heavy plastic grills to keep you out of the free tourist literature after hours. We managed to snag some hotel coupon books anyway--ten-year-olds have small hands. Shortly after this we tried to figure out if stainless steel toilets were a part of the atmosphere or an attempt to keep you from lingering in this bit of Old Mexico. It was a cold night. Stainless steel is not a material which remains at a comfortable temperature in the cold.

Dan had been pushing to drive through, so we'd have a chance of setting up in daylight at the event site. The headwinds were pretty bad, and Marty didn't like driving even on an Interstate in that weather. As it turned out we didn't even make Albuquerque, we spent the night at a Days Inn in Moriarty. (I've never checked to see if there's a Holmes NM.)