I was driving home from work tonight, and I saw a semi with a bike attached to it. This made me wonder, does the semi driver like to get out and ride his bike for fun at truck stops? Did he pick up a bike-riding hitchhiker?
Then for no real reason, I started missing my road trips with my father.
From the year 2000 until we moved away in 2007, my father and I both lived in Los Angeles. It wasn't intentional; I moved there to be with Marvin, and he moved there for a job. It was exciting, though, because we hadn't lived in the same city since 1978 or so, after he and my mother got divorced.
Well. He and I did live in Atlanta together for about six weeks when I was 22, but it turns out? The two of us as roommates? Not such a stellar idea.
But what we are good at is going on road trips. And when we lived in LA we went on them all the time. I think I might have told you before how we went to the Mike the Headless Chicken festival in Colorado.
In the 1940s, I think it was, a farmer cut off a chicken's head, and the chicken lived. Go look it up. I am not kidding you. His brain stem remained attached or something. So they named the poor thing Mike and hit the road with this creature. Every year in Fruita, Colorado they have a festival for the chicken (he lived for two years) that includes a Peep-eating contest, a football game with a raw chicken (okay, so did not participate in that), a chicken dance marathon (so did participate), headless chicken cookies, and oh! So much more.
And do you think I can find a single ding dang ding photograph of that trip? Whose idea was it to put all my pictures in these stupid photo boxes? Anyway, here's a picture of dad and me a few years before that trip.
I do not know why they cut my hair and dressed me like a male. Clearly their attempts to make me masculine did not remotely work, so thanks for the whole free-to-be lack of stereotype thing, folks. Where's the pink?
On some other road trip, my father made a CD of all cowboy songs from the '30s and '40s. There was one song that was just all about dust, and we became obsessed with it and kept playing it over and over.
Another time all we listened to was The Beastie Boys. We just flipped the tape over. That was back when you still flipped tapes over.
Something ridiculous happens on all of our road trips. Once we were at a bar, a karaoke bar, in a trailer park. On Salisbury Steak Lane. No, I am not making that up. Anyway, there was a guy at the bar who bought drinks for the house. We thanked him, and he said, "Well, hey, it's Saturday night."
You guys. It was like Wednesday night. Which was kind of why buying drinks for the house was easy. There were about four of us at the karaoke bar in the trailer park that night. But I am just telling you. You go on road trips with my father, you end up finding places like that.
So I was thinking I should call him and make him come to Greensboro and go on a road trip with me, but he has a girlfriend now and they just met, so you know it'd be hard to convince him to visit at this juncture.
He told me I could tell you all about his new girlfriend, by the way. "Hey, why don't you talk about my new girlfriend on your blog?" he asked.
"Well, I hardly mention you at all on my blog. Why would I suddenly discuss your love life? Plus, in a million years I never thought you'd want me to tell it on my blog."
"No, go ahead," he said. "People will be interested."
Okay, this is not his new girlfriend. It is me when I'm 15. Let's pause and enjoy dad's 'fro. Yes. I know I look like him. I'd look more like him if I didn't Nair.
So, my father has a girlfriend, and she is AGE APPROPRIATE! Everyone is kind of excited about it. Also, she is artsy and stuff, which is good because dad likes that kind of a thing. Also too, she has a dog, which right there she must be okay, if you ask me.
But I'm just saying. I have a hankerin' to get back on that road. Find me a headless something to celebrate, you know? Sing about dust.
For these things, sometimes a girl needs her daddy.