September 30, 2010

Count Down to the End ~ Day Two


Casper, Wyoming was nothing to write home about – just a roadside stop for truckers and those making the trek across the big open west. The landscape in Wyoming is barren, minus the brushy fields and the herds of wild antelope. Truly one of the nations “great frontiers,” and now I understand the meaning to the “home on the range” song. It took us the better part of the morning to get out of the massive state.

We maneuver down sloping roads, which run between rock walled canyons, and into Salt Lake City. Just outside of the city, we stop in a “town” called Delle. One of the many fuel stops today, and this one brings us to a station in the middle of the great salt flats. This place is teetering on the boundary between life and death – it’s nearly October and the second I get out of the car I can feel the dry heat slap me in the face like a death wish. In a way, the white landscape reminds me of our drive into White Sands. The only difference is that White Sands is better.

We enter Nevada, and I can’t help but discuss the fact that we have truly come full circle. The drive through the desert landscape takes all afternoon, and when dusk hits we are still some one hundred and fifty miles outside of Reno – our destination goal for the day. The sun sets behind the high desert wasteland, and as the sky turns shades of pinks and purples, distant stars appear in the distance. I’m feeling sentimental about the trip drawing to an end. I close my eyes (Jarvis is driving) and take a deep breath – thankful to the world around me for blessing me with this life. Then, like clockwork, the early evening bugs come out of the woodworks, and within minutes the windshield is covered with insect carcasses.

We pull into Reno around nine o’clock. We have been in the car for thirteen hours, and are ready for something to eat other than road snacks, and drinks. We decided to have one last night of celebration together, being that we are technically on the last day of our honeymoon. We get a suite at the Peppermill, and head downstairs for dinner. Unfortunately, everything except the twenty-four hour diner is already closed and our waitress there is a total tweaker. We eat some grub, and then grab some drinks at one of the casino bars. We reminisce on what an amazing summer we have both had. I’m utterly grateful that I have met a person whom I can spend three strait months with, and never run out of things to talk about. I’m not even close to being sick of spending time with my amazing Jarvis, and I would keep the journey going if I could. I keep reminding myself that our journey has only begun.

This morning we lay in bed and you can tell there is a sense of sadness in the air. In one respect, we are so ready to get back to San Francisco, and in another, we really just want to get in the car and drive back the other way. Only four hours to San Francisco now.

Count Down to the End ~ Day Two

Casper, Wyoming was nothing to write home about – just a roadside stop for truckers and those making the trek across the big open west. The landscape in Wyoming is barren, minus the brushy fields and the herds of wild antelope. Truly one of the nations “great frontiers,” and now I understand the meaning to the “home on the range” song. It took us the better part of the morning to get out of the massive state.

We maneuver down sloping roads, which run between rock walled canyons, and into Salt Lake City. Just outside of the city, we stop in a “town” called Delle. One of the many fuel stops today, and this one brings us to a station in the middle of the great salt flats. This place is teetering on the boundary between life and death – it’s nearly October and the second I get out of the car I can feel the dry heat slap me in the face like a death wish. In a way, the white landscape reminds me of our drive into White Sands. The only difference is that White Sands is better.

We enter Nevada, and I can’t help but discuss the fact that we have truly come full circle. The drive through the desert landscape takes all afternoon, and when dusk hits we are still some one hundred and fifty miles outside of Reno – our destination goal for the day. The sun sets behind the high desert wasteland, and as the sky turns shades of pinks and purples, distant stars appear in the distance. I’m feeling sentimental about the trip drawing to an end. I close my eyes (Jarvis is driving) and take a deep breath – thankful to the world around me for blessing me with this life. Then, like clockwork, the early evening bugs come out of the woodworks, and within minutes the windshield is covered with insect carcasses.

We pull into Reno around nine o’clock. We have been in the car for thirteen hours, and are ready for something to eat other than road snacks, and drinks. We decided to have one last night of celebration together, being that we are technically on the last day of our honeymoon. We get a suite at the Peppermill, and head downstairs for dinner. Unfortunately, everything except the twenty-four hour diner is already closed and our waitress there is a total tweaker. We eat some grub, and then grab some drinks at one of the casino bars. We reminisce on what an amazing summer we have both had. I’m utterly grateful that I have met a person whom I can spend three strait months with, and never run out of things to talk about. I’m not even close to being sick of spending time with my amazing Jarvis, and I would keep the journey going if I could. I keep reminding myself that our journey has only begun.

This morning we lay in bed and you can tell there is a sense of sadness in the air. In one respect, we are so ready to get back to San Francisco, and in another, we really just want to get in the car and drive back the other way. Only four hours to San Francisco now.

September 28, 2010

Count Down to the End ~ Day One


This morning when we woke up we were approximately thirty hours driving time from San Francisco. We gave our love to my in-laws, stopped off at Casey’s for some gas and donuts, and hit the road heading back West. The sun was just rising as we drove out of the prairie land of Southwest Minnesota. Everything was tucked into a balmy layer of pinks, and the glow on the horizon kissed the earth with a kindhearted smooch. I blew back kisses as we left the Land of Ten Thousand Lakes.

It wasn’t long before we drove through Brookings, South Dakota. A supersized Red Bull and some authentic Buffalo Ridge jerky sticks later, we flew through Rapid City on the West side of the state. Lost in our excitement to get back to California, we almost forgot that we were on a quest to review all things that make this land “America”. Luckily, we remembered just in time to take a small detour to Mt. Rushmore. I mean, a tour de USA could not be complete without visiting an oversized monument of our Freemason Forefathers. Although I can appreciate the effort that must have gone into such a massive project, my general opinion is that the whole tourist attraction is really nothing special. We did get some good photos, however, and now we can say that we’ve “been there, and done that.” (Actually, we had both visited the park when we were younger, but thought we would reevaluate with our “grown-up eyes”.) The stop did allow us to walk off our lunch, catch some fresh summer air, and look down on the badass Badlands of South Dakota…so, I guess all-in-all the destination was a bit of both sweet and sour. Glad we stopped, and the drive was beautiful. We saw a mountain goat that looked like a polar bear from a distance.

We made it as far as Casper, Wyoming today, before the setting sun glaring through the windshield became just about unbearable. We are eighteen hours and fourteen minutes from home, give or take a few. We will make our way through Wyoming, Utah, and Nevada tomorrow, as we count down to the end of our voyage. My feelings are mixed.

September 22, 2010

The Land of Jarvis' Origin


It’s hard to believe that Jarvis and the boyz back home came from such a teeny town deep in the heart of corn country. As you drive into Southwest Minnesota, maize and soybean fields stretch across the countryside as far as the eye can see. Tractors operated by flannel wearing farmers cruise along side the road through the grassy ditches where they can inspect their neighbor’s crop. There are farming devices which appear as foreign as space ships and robots in these city eyes, and when you haven’t grown up in farmland, things like pastures filled with rolled spools of hay, or old outhouses, seem strangely remarkable. The region is studded with pocket-sized towns, some with single digit population numbers, other hubs boasting nearly two thousand residents. Canby has around eighteen hundred.

I have never spent time in a place like Canby, and the first few times I visited I was in complete culture shock – even now, from time to time, I’m taken aback by the traditional conservative ways of the regions inhabitants. I’m reminded each time we pass an anti-abortion sign in one of the fields on the side of the county road. It took me a while to get past the whole “everybody knows everybody” business here, but once I got to know everybody a bit too, I start to feel more comfortable when we visit – less of a dark skinned outsider, and more like “Josh’s wife”. Actually, there are still times when I walk into Parrot Bay or the VFW and feel as though the juke box stops and all the men at the bar turn to look at me at once. It’s quite comical actually. Gets funnier the more I drink.

The small village that is Canby is quiet, and because there aren’t many options for recreational opportunities (the theater is only open on the weekends, and one never knows when the bowling alley might decide to open) we spend the majority of our time out of the house “road-tripping” around the countryside. Its autumn here and the colors are turning from green to creepy Halloween. There is still a fair amount of corn in the fields, and from what I’ve grasped from the local disappointment, “…that corn is ready to come down, but all this gosh darn rain…” I’m starting to pick up on more and more of the local lingo, but I still refuse to call lunch dinner and dinner supper. Sticking to my guns on that one.

We went to the dirt track races in Madison last weekend, and I almost got decapitated by the axel of a flipping car. A slight exaggeration of course, but I think it really was a close call. Super gnarly wreck. I think Jarvis is more and more impressed with my knowledge of the races each time we go, and I can see a twinkle in his Bush Light filled eyes when I floss some of my newfound facts. The track was at the fair grounds, so once again this summer we visited a county fair and I ate yet another corn dog. I also had my first go at an order of cheese curds and fell strait into fried cheese heaven – got me thinking, maybe there is a God after all. Yup, we had some good times in Madison, and got our picture taken with then famous lutefisk to prove it.

Added highlights of my Canby escapade are the thrift stores here, believe it or not. I have visited Prairie Five twice, and today made a handful of new purchases at Delightful Treasures, the newest second hand store in town. I pretty much had to buy a whole new wardrobe because all my brilliant ass decided to pack for the summer was daisy dukes and swimsuits. There are some real scores hidden in those thrift store racks, and these are real thrift store prices (three dollar dresses etc.) not no San Francisco prices in there. Speaking of price perks, there is nothing like going to one of the small dives in town and being able to order a cheeseburger and a beer for six bucks. I keep telling Jarvis that I can’t believe you can actually get a bar BLT for three seventy-five. I just got a dinner sized order of spaghetti and meatballs from the local pizza joint for five bucks. At this rate, I would totally be a fat ass if I lived here for any lengthy amount of time.

It’s really nice to be here in Minnesooooota with the Meads. Dad and Bernie are always so hospitable, and being part of the family is quite the privilege. Actually, being a part of all the crew’s families here is a privilege. We have been so lucky to have dinner with the Rhymers and the Engesmoes and I feel like I have parents all over this bitch. It’s pretty awesome to see all the crew folks, but it really makes me hungry for the crew kids back home.

We are headed to Worthington, Minnesota this weekend for the nuptials of some good friends, and it will be the first wedding I’ve ever stood in, aside from my own a few months ago, of course (our three month anniversary is approaching this weekend, actually!!) After the marriage celebration we will head back to cozy Canby to grab our buckets of shit and regroup before our pilgrimage back West. When we settle down into a place for this amount of time, it almost feels like we’re not on a road trip anymore …. I’m ready to get back into our mobile house and tack some more miles on the silver bullet.

September 16, 2010

..Twin Cities..

As we pull into the Minneapolis metropolis Jarvis and I are both stoked to be back in the land of traffic, restaurants, clubs, and city noise. We spent the prior week in the small town that is Canby (which I will post an article on before long), so being back in a city is a breath of fresh air for both of us. Minneapolis is an outstanding city, and if the winter months weren’t so brutally cold, I think we would consider spending some real time here.

Our first night in the metropolitan area was spent in the outer reaches of the Twin Cities with a few of Jarvis’ cousins and his oober cute God Son. That evening, we had a bbq supper in the park. I enjoy our time sitting around the picnic table swapping stories. Jarvis got to run-a-muck with the lil’ one for a bit before we ate, and it makes me extremely happy to know that he is building memories with his favorite kiddo. We might have stayed there visiting all night, but as the sun set in the distance the mosquitoes began to congregate and irritate.

We make our way out of the fringes of the cities in the morning and head into NW Minneapolis to meet an old friend from San Francisco. Every time we stop through Minneapolis, we make it a point to drop in on our good friend Rich – he’s consistently cordial, and his extensive knowledge of the cities best dives, eateries, and watering holes is extraordinary. Upon our arrival he took us to Manny’s Steakhouse for one of the best lunches that I’ve consumed on this entire vacation. I had the surf n’ turf sliders with a crock of French onion soup and Jarvis can’t help but exclaim over the fact that there are bits of applewood smoked bacon in his potato salad. I’m delighted to be somewhere where I can order Prosecco with my lunch. Fantastic. That night we hop around some of the dives in the neighborhood and meet some other good friends for beers and dinner. It is absolutely superb to be with some good peeps that I love – swop stories and get to know the new additions. A few of us catch some live hippy music at the 331 Club and then saunter down the street to one of the seediest strip clubs that I have ever visited. Good times. Good times.

In the morning, we visited The Mall of America. I figured it was a must see attraction on the all American expedition; after all, consuming is the all American way. This place is absolutely ridiculous, and you have to reference the store guide and map to find anything. There’s a Nickelodeon themed amusement park in the center and the rides are like something out of the future. The highlight of the venture was that we met up with Jarvis’ momma, and she and I got to spend the afternoon browsing the endless amount of clothing racks for various odds and ends. We had dinner with Jarv’s aunt, uncle, and their two beautiful girls later that day. Our lasagna was served with a side of laughter, and I’m thankful to have expanded my family circuit to include so many new and fantastic faces.

Today I came down with a sore throat and a bit of a cold, but I’m glad that at least we are around the mom for some genuine love and care. I thank the stars that I was blessed with such a marvelous mother-in-law – being at her home is cozy and comforting. Jarvis and her are in the kitchen making some homemade vegetable soup right now – the perfect cure for the probing cold.

September 10, 2010

Niagara Falls


We stayed the night in Niagara Falls, New York at the Best Western after we left the Neuburger Lake House. The motel building hadn’t been updated since the seventies, and the retro carpets and wall paper were proof. The town is run down, desolate, and appears to be hanging on by a thread. The only parking lots that seem to host guests belong to the military base, Walmart and Chilies – everything else appears on the brink of dilapidation. We catch some much needed z’s and head out to the falls in the morning. Before we depart the inn, we stop off for continental breakfast in the lobby. For the first time in weeks we are surrounded by an assortment of various racial groups, and I tell Jarvis that it’s kind of nice to be back in a diverse environment…even if they are all tourists. Then, I look over to a family that has brought their own jar of mayonnaise to breakfast and is slathering up some hard boiled eggs, and I’m ready to be unaccompanied again.

We drive to the falls, which are just a couple miles down the road, and as we maneuver parallel to the Niagara River we can see the shores of Canada lying on the other side, and I tell Jarvis that it’s “the closest that I’ve ever been to the great white north.” I try my hardest at a Canadian accent but fail miserably. We steer down Niagara Street and find some relatively cheep parking. The lot is littered with garbage, the souvenir shop towers several stories overhead, and the air is pungent with Indian food. Nothing like the smell of curry in the morning to jump start your day. We walk past the Canadian border and Rainbow Bridge, which leads to our northerly neighbor, but opt to stay on our free and brave soils. We actually have so much shit in the car that we figured if we attempted to cross into Canada we would probably sit at customs for the better part of the day – I mean, come on people, we all know that we don’t appear to be the most pure of citizens and after the hard boiled eggs and Indian food, the last thing I want is to be profiled all morning. Besides, this is an examination of America’s sweet and sour, so we stick to the procedure.

As we approach the falls, the roar of the powerful waters grows stronger, and the mist rising from the abyss thickens to create rainbow droplets in the flickering sunlight. The American Falls drop in front of us and the Canadian Horseshoe Falls disappear in the distance. The view is sincerely mesmerizing, and the sheer magnitude of the energy carried in the gush is compelling. The two of us stand in silence for a fair amount of time – each lost in our thoughts found swimming amongst the current through the oscillating waves. We ask an older man to take our photo, and as our minds reconvene we both express how thankful we are that we came here. Totally Sweet.

We get back in the car and hit the road with purpose. Our goal is to get to Canby, Minnesota within the next thirty-five hours and we have a lot of ground to cover. The drive is boring, at best, as we transverse Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Indiana; we don’t see much that impresses us. Each state has a “Thruway” which is a clever way of collecting tolls from those of us that just wish to haul ass through their lame state as fast as possible. I guess they have to make money somehow, and since we’re sure as hell not bunking here, I guess they will get their nine dollar tolls for using their highways. Bunch of crap if you ask me. We reach the outskirts of Chicago just before dusk, and make a joint decision to power through and get to the other side of the sprawl before we stop – we figured that it would be better than attempting in the morning during the commute hours; however, we totally forgot that it’s Labor Day and everybody was on their way home from the weekend festivities. Traffic was still a bitch, and after getting lost in the super ghetto on the south side of Chicago we are both spent and on the verge of a breakdown. We haven’t eaten in hours and we both have to take a piss which isn’t sugar coating the situation. After a good hour of trying to reach the Chicago Skyway, we finally get back on the right path. I guess it’s the times like these that are supposed to make our relationship stronger. We make peace when we finally find a resting spot on the other side of Chicago. Although the situation was stress city, in the morning we are both glad that we made the maneuver.

We drove through the southwest corner of Wisconsin and into Minnesota. Jarvis’ face lights up with excitement as we pass the state line looming below us somewhere in the middle of the Mississippi. He starts conversing stories and facts about his home state, and I’m glad to see my man so happy to be back in his native lands. It’s amusing to watch his level of enthusiasm increase as we make way through the homestead, and as we pull into Canby, we both take a deep relieving breath of country air.

September 04, 2010

Lake House!!

The drive from Vermont to The Lake House was remarkable; but then again, most everything I have laid my eyes on in the last several days has been pure eye candy. Upstate New York’s backdrop is an assemblage of green rolling hills, old-fashioned farm homes with roadside produce stands, and towns that will charm the socks off you. Nothing here seems bizarre or strange – everything seems calm, cool, and collective – a picturesque slice of unrefined countryside which beats to an antique rhythm. The trees are beginning to show their fall colors, and just being here gives me a hankering for a slice of American apple pie and a glass of lemonade. We make our way West across Highway 20 towards Erieville, New York, and the anticipation to see our friends is causing me to twitch with excitement.

First-class friends can often seem to exist few and far between, and the lines of separation between them seem to increase as the roads that disconnect us grow farther apart. Those possessing the qualities which comprise a high-quality companion are hard to come by on the road less traveled, and as the days pass Jarvis and I pine for our people back home. San Francisco seems to exert a magnetic pull on marvelous individuals – they seem to arrive on the scene daily with unconscious goals of enlightening one another’s minds and expanding the limits of what each of us thought humanly possible in this life. Over the last several years, we have been awfully fortunate to have stumbled upon one of the greatest webs of human beings, and a handful of my darlings will be spending the next week with us at the Neuburger Lake House on Lake Tuscarora.

We arrived on Beebe Road Saturday afternoon and were greeted by the family on the front porch. The lake – jumping with boats, kayakers, jet skis, and geese – rested in the background. The warm summer sun glittered on the lake’s surface and skipped across the small breaks in the waves. Fresh cut lawns roll downward and kiss the water’s edge as the smell of the fresh green clippings hang in the air above our sweet teas and gin tonics. The Neuburgers are a high spirited family who invite us into their home with smiles. Their generosity and kindheartedness is wowing. Every evening they indulge us with a gourmet dinner spread, and I am thrilled to sit around a table and eat as a family. I cherish the fact that I’m in the presence of a mom and dad that adore their children and live for the moments like these when they get to spend quality time as one – it makes me miss Pops and Mamma T.


For the next five days we strait chilled out at the Lake House. Michael, Samantha, Mikk, Gwen, Jarvis, and I (sometimes with an influx of a cousin/neighbor) had a fun filled week. Late morning sun baths were taken out on the lawn. Swim sessions were frequent and usually involved floats, water balloons, and squirt guns. Ladder golf games were had with Jarvis and Mikk undefeated for the majority of the week. Wakeboarding, skiing, and dance parties transpired on the boat and girls wakeboarding day was a success. Jarvis and I rode bikes around the lake one morning and my legs felt like Jello afterwards. Food, cold beers, bonfires, and starry-filled skies filled the evenings with laughter, stories and good times. Gwen thinks its epic.

Thursday afternoon we packed up shop and Mikey drove us to Syracuse for a night out on the town. First stop was Dinosaur Bar-B-Q which we’ve been hearing about for several years. A bucket of PBR tall cans, rib racks, pulled pork sandwiches, and endless amounts of sides later, we all agree that it’s some of the best that we have had. We wet-nap our hands and drag our fat asses out to the car so we can head to the New York State Fair. It was a bit hot out, and my slight beer buzz is intensifying the warmth radiating from the thousands of bodies walking around the grounds. From one reference point during the day all I could see around me were food carts advertising their greasy, sugary creations – all the things that we all look oh-so-forward to eating each year when the carnies come to town. Michael and his brother conquered the Ejection Seat, and just watching them go sky-high gets me a bit motion sick. After watching several launches we are ready for THE MAIN EVENT. The primary reason we’re here is to see the RUSH concert with the crew and a bunch of the Neuburgers (who are coincidently one of the biggest Rush families I have ever met). The whole night was a frigin’ blast and there are too many good times and memories to exactly be summed up here. Good times, Rock n’ Roll.

It’s Saturday afternoon and we have officially been here getting our lazy on for an entire week. Hurricane Earl blew a storm in last night and the air outside is crisp. It feels nice to wear a sweater and gander out the window at the sleepy sky resting overhead. The family is gone at the Sister’s wedding for the day and the lake house has become a sleepy, snacky, game and couch potato kind of day. The campfire got a bit late last night followed by energized flower girls parading around the kitchen early this morning. Needless to say, we are all a bit on the mellow tip. Spaghetti, meatballs, Italian sausage, and salads are on the menu for supper this evening. The SF Crew will part ways tomorrow but we will meet again in the City.

Our time here has been as sweet as maple syrup – delectable and wondrous like a husk cherry. We will be in Minnesota with Jarvis’ family by midweek, and he is super stoked to see his people. I’m a bit sad to leave the friends and lake behind, but I’m stoked to visit my new family too. The heartland is on the horizon.