Take Off Your Hobo Shoes Redux

For the last several months, my car and I have been living separately.  An early return to Tennessee for the Christmas holiday generated continuous work in the following months.  Three plays and one home renovation later, I finally returned to San Francisco.  To retrieve my car.

In 2006, I drove from Nashville to San Diego in a 4-day, 3-night adventure across I-40 and Route 66.  The return, with a day's drive south to catch the easterly road, will be one day longer.  And this time, I'm doing things differently.

In 2006, I simply drove.  When I was tired, I stopped.  Whether that meant 12 hours on the road or 8, I stopped where I needed to stop.  Or, at least, that was the plan.  But on two of those three nights on the road, I had to drive beyond my stopping point as I found hotel rooms were booked.  In Oklahoma City, firefighters from nearby states filled the beds as they fought wildfires and in Phoenix there was some speedway event I still haven't identified but which sent me out of my way to Gila Bend.  So this time, I booked ahead.

This means a more structured route and a timetable, which has its ups and downs.  I won't be driving extra hours to find a hotel room, but I can't stop earlier if I'm not up to a 9-hour drive on any day, and my dilly-dallying between hotels will have to be minimal.

On the first leg of the journey -- San Francisco to Lake Havasu City -- this was no problem.  But one forgets when one opts for 9-hours on the road how a 9-hour drive turns to 10 or 11 hours with stops for food and fuel.  The drive across the Mojave Desert was long and hot (topping at 115 degrees) with little to see.  Driving east, the best views were often in my rear view as the sun set over the mountains, but the desert roads offer little in the way of friendly areas to pull off the highway for a photo op.  I imagine I'll make up for the lack of photos on the first leg of the journey very early today.

Last night I found Lake Havasu City before sundown and enjoyed a lovely view of it before finding the Black Bear Diner for dinner.  I ordered what should have been a delicious dinner: a Tri-Tip platter that came with veggies and mash, but some aggressive spice in both the meat seasoning and its gravy prevents my praising the dish.  After dinner, I checked in to the Hampton Inn on London Bridge Road, which is indicative of my first stop this morning, after I go down to scrounge up some hotel breakfast.   According to my Guest Services booklet, the London Bridge was "dismantled stone by stone and transported from England to America at a cost of 7.5 million dollars" in 1971. And the quaint menu at the diner last night also suggests there's an English village below the bridge.  The internet verifies that a "mock English village, modeled after the famous Shambles of York, surrounds London Bridge."

Frank Sinatrat has joined me on this trip, as he did on the drive west several years ago.  There are sure to be photo ops at the bridge -- and tonight, when I stop in Las Cruces, New Mexico, I'll remember to bring in a cord to upload them!