ROAD TRIP: Cross Country Adventure Part 1

We all have some story, some adventure in our background that ended up being more than we bargained for. Something that at the time was a real challenge but we look back and and nod our heads acknowledging we'd never do THAT again. Or at least do it the same way.

Mine occurred in late August, 1983. When I was twenty-two and just ready to start my Junior year in college my Dad agreed to sell me his aging but still very cool 1976 Triumph TR-7. Since I was at home for the Summer it would simply be a matter of driving back to Los Angeles from the outskirts of Washington, DC. I had money in my pocket from my twin summer jobs at Toys R Us and Jack-in-the-Box, so was all ready to hit the road and explore the country for the first time all on my own.

It was an exhilarating feeling knowing that I would be out on the open road, seeing things I wanted to see and doing what *I* wanted to do versus it being a group decision. (In all honesty, my family was pretty democratic about such things, so it's an exaggeration to suggest I hadn't had the chance to see what I wanted to on numerous occasions.)

I left Vienna, Virginia a bit later in the morning than expected. I had an infection from an extracted wisdom tooth (not a good omen for this trip) and had to see the dentist before heading out. My father had taken the care to have the car carefully inspected, but in some sort of prescient aforethought had given me a credit card to ensure that if something happened to the temperamental TR-7 that I had the means to confront the emergency. Little did we know.

Something I have learned about myself in the subsequent years is that I love to drive. And on this trip I had carefully planned out my expected stops and intended visits. I had decided upon a Southern route to take me through New Orleans, Houston and across to San Diego where I would visit with a friend for a few days before class began in LA. Several visits with other friends and family were scheduled along the way.

My first day was a marathon, and that may have led to the events to come. Originally I had planned to stop in Bristol, Virginia, along the border with Tennessee. The late start should have made that a natural, but for some reason I pressed on south through Knoxville and Chattanooga, eventually stopping for dinner at a roadside stand in Georgia. My direction was to take various interstate highways down to Birmingham where I would pick up I-20 for a long leg on my journey west. 

As I was passing through Birmingham I noted that the lights on the dashboard were a little dimmer than usual, so I pulled off the highway at 10pm in a neighborhood I probably shouldn't have, and tried to see if it was a trick of the eye, or if there might really be a problem. It seemed okay, so I pressed on.

But a half hour down the road, sleep crept up on me and I pulled off onto the muddy parking lot of a truck stop, and pulled over to one side and tried to catch some sleep. About an hour later I decided that a TR-7 wasn't exactly the most comfortable bed. It was then I made the bad decision to press on. Had I stayed at the truck stop I would have had the resources to handle what was about to happen with a great deal less of a problem. But being a somewhat naive college junior I started the car -- for some reason it took several attempts (again, a clue?), but finally kicked to life and away I went, getting a few miles beyond Tuscaloosa when the lights were obviously failing and my nerves getting really jangled. I sighted an offramp up ahead and pulled off. As I reached the crest the engine gave out, and the TR-7's frog like headlamps dropped lazily into the hood as if the car simply was going to sleep.

As hit happened a 24 hour gas station was across the freeway and -- fortunately -- downhill. I threw the car into neutral and coasted, a black hulk in the night, down across the bridge and rolling up into the gas station.

Union, Alabama. A gas station and restaurant were all I saw. Beyond that I knew nothing beyond I was in the deep south.

And I was a 21 year old kid from the big city driving an apparently dead British Triumph TR-7 with California plates. 

continued tomorrow