Our road twists and bends, but it never ends
Q would be impressed: I have configured Driving With Daddymom (DWDM) to receive posts from my Treo. In fact, thanks to the wicked-cool TypePad service hosting this blog, I can submit posts via email too. These options make posting sooo much easier on the road. Now all I need is a Bond Girl… Come to think of it, I already have three!
Before hopping in the Expedition for a 1600+ mile jaunt, I thought it prudent to conduct a little test run. Getting John’s scout troop camp trailer to El Rancho Cima just west of San Marcos seemed a perfect fit. So, I signed up for duty–me and the girls and a couple scouts.
We arrived at 8:30 a.m. for a 9:00 a.m. departure. Anyone who’s been to scout camp knows well that time is a relative thing. And it really should say 9-ish. It’s not a bad thing. Scouts are boy-led affairs. If boys were born with planning and coordinating skills, there’d be no need for 
scouting. So, we loaded. And, we loaded. And loaded. Then, loaded some more. I started getting nervous about pulling that trailer across
Texas.
Mickey’s big hand was swinging past 6 and the doors were still open, rides being assigned, and parents still saying their goodbyes. And this beta test delivered its first lesson: start on time, stay on time. There’s a traveling rule of thumb that every five minutes standing still is 15 minutes on the road. I had planned the day around getting there by Noon. A good time for deep breathing. Relax. Go with the flow; beta test 
lesson two.
At long last, it was time to saddle up and ride. This was one of those “close your eyes and jump” moments for me; a car load of kids pulling a trailer load of stuff on the open road. It may seem no big deal to most people. For me, it was a stretch. The last trailer I pulled had a chair in it going across town. And before that, it was behind a yellow Ryder truck pulling the old GTI to Houston in
1985. Somehow, with my babies on board, this seemed a bigger deal.
One of the joys in traveling is experiencing local life. So, it was we simply HAD to stop at the DQ. Sure, there were other burger joints. But, this was DQ. In many ways, stepping into a Dairy Queen is stepping back in time. It took me back to Grandma’s Kitchen, my family’s restaurant. That oh-so-familiar scent of fryer grease, grill sizzle and foodservice wax wrappings. It was a meal of memories.
The big slice of the drive was getting to the DQ in San Marcos. It was also the end of major roads. From there on, it was in-town driving and–gasp–hills! My poor Expedition thought a hill was what it climbed
to get on the freeway. The roads in San Marcos were more like the real thing. Through town, taking a tricky turn (tricky because it has only one sign and is easy to miss),
and out into the country we trekked. What a pleasant surprise to discover how much pull that Expedition has under the hood: some ninny was limping up a hill. Without giving it much thought, my right foot pressed down and those horses took flight pulling me, the kids and trailer up and around–all without breaking a sweat. At the next stop, one of the dads asked, “what do you have under the hood of that thing?” Shrugging my shoulders, I said, “pretty sure it’s an engine.” Honestly, I don’t know. Still don’t. And, I’m okay with that.
What a lovely sight: the Expedition free of the trailer. Hey, don’t get me wrong: it was a fun pull and the kids loved every mile of movies, snacks and changing views outside the windows. I just didn’t particularly enjoy the view on the dash showing 12.3 miles per gallon. I had started calculating how many gallons of gas it would take at that clip to get to Utah, Seattle, and home to Houston. Owwie. Fortunately, once the trailer was dropped, the Expedition returned to her normal 15.8 miles per gallon–practically a hybrid.
Our mission complete, it was time to drop our own scout and head east for another adventure. (Note the
trunk between truck and trailer; all he needed for a week and a science experiment in the making for our nanny.) The most rewarding feeling I get is seeing the kids really connecting. My little circle of five, a family complete. It doesn’t show everyday, but gives me a divine shoulder pat when it does–like in this picture. This is the last time they’d all be together till we meet up in Utah–a point not lost on them. Even though getting there was only half of the test, I judged it a success and can’t wait to head west on the 11th!
Dropping the trailer and John marked the beginning of OUR part of the road trip. The girls and I were out to make a daytrip of discovery on our trip back.
Who knew our road would lead us past Purgatory. I knew it existed and all… And, since Texas is so close to heaven I guess is makes perfect sense to find it here. Just so you know, it appears to be a single-lane road which just goes to prove that narrow gates of heaven stuff. There’s a great story about the road here.
I spotted a directional sign to Dripping Springs on our way to El Rancho Cima and told the girls, “that’s where the wizard lives.” Intrigued, they agreed to make that our first stop. On a hilltop south of Austin, Roy Williams’ Wizard Academy has altered the path of thinking for marketers of every size. He’s certainly had a big impact on my firm. Since I spend two to three weeks a year at the place, I thought the girls would enjoy seeing it. They’re pictured here in front of Chapel Dulcinea–a free wedding chapel that’s booked for weeks and months in advance and has been the site of weddings from around the world; one couple met there to exchange vows having come from New York and China.
One of the cool things about taking Texas back roads is the beautiful discoveries hidden along the way. The road between Cima and Austin had several places where it dipped so low to the riverbeds the water scarcely missed washing over the road. I snapped this one from the side of one such dip. Scenes like this prove the point: God blessed Texas.
The road took us from Cima up through Dripping Springs, to Austin and down to La Grange. Somewhere along the way, Zuzu lost some cookies. It was a scene from Parenthood. I picked her up and she said, “Daddy, I don’t feel well…” She convulsed and pure parent instinct kicked in as I reflexively spun her away 
and watched her paint a driveway. Kate, seeing the whole thing said, “you’re gooood, Dad.” No one was more amazed than I.
Points to Stella for spotting our 
next stop. Latte on the Square: A heaven-scent oasis in La Grange. Who knew you could get a killer Latte on a Sunday afternoon in this sleepy little town.
Actually, sleepy may be an understatement. Comatose is more appropriate since this was the ONLY place in town to get something to eat. Travel Lesson: pack food, don’t count on roadside support. (Note that Zuzu regained color AND appetite…)
Our next stop was really a destination I had in mind all along. In the 
almost hidden village of Hostyn, there stands Czechoslovakian-founded Holy Rosary Catholic Church. The church itself is pretty unremarkable. What makes it worth the stop is 
what surrounds it: a massive grotto and Stations of The Cross etched of marble and mounted on stone monuments which dot the grounds’ perimeter.
The parish is so small it has only three Masses a week. Even so, it has a majestic presence and is a must-see stop if you share my fascination for sacred spaces. Because it truly deserves little description, I’ll let the photos tell their own stories.
The Grotto
The Stations
Taking a step in starting something can be like stepping on a mound of fire ants barefoot. It’s as if the universe senses your motion and says, “We like it as things are now–don’t you go messing with the order of things.” Getting in motion creates inertia and doing so means you’re overcoming the vice grip of the status quo.
The day after we began planning this summer’s driving adventure, I got a call from John, “Dad, we’ve been in an accident on the Katy Freeway and we can’t move the truck.”
Every Houstonian understands my first thought was, “thank goodness it happened on the Katy freeway… If it had happened on the feeder, they might have been moving faster.”
Sure enough, it didn’t look so bad when I got there. And, fixing it only cost about a month and a half of what I pay the nanny… (Did I tell you about our NEW nanny?) What a cool feeling it is to make the second payment on a vehicle while it’s in the body shop.
Our trusty Expedition is back after a two-and-a-half week stay at the truck spa and she’s good as new. We’ve gained something from this challenge. The delay pulled backward against a cosmic rubber band. When the body shop released the truck, we flew forward faster and further because our commitment to our adventure proved stronger than the grip of staying put.
The difference between a decision and choice is in how you make them. A decision is the product of distinctions learned from past experiences. A choice happens when you’re in the moment, being fully present to your act of creation.
We’ve discovered that planning this trip is more difficult than we could have predicted because decisions aren’t possible. We have no past to bring forward: haven’t ever taken a road trip, haven’t ever planned this kind of vacation, have no knowledge of the routes we’re taking. It’s a journey into the unknown.
And I like it that way.
This is creation in its highest form: moving forward with intention, inventing new possibilities in every step. The aliveness coming out of planning our adventures sprouts from our joint creation of all we’ll see and do. This is the circle of five–a family complete, working together to map where we’re going. And, that work isn’t just about the trip.