by Lil Cromer
I was not wild about this Globus tour company; they’re not as efficient as others I’ve used. The tour director, a tall Brit, had a wicked sense of humor. He loved to embellish history when giving commentary. However, he didn’t care to learn any of the travelers’ names, preferring to call us sir or madam.
This next section doesn’t really pertain to England in spite of the name; I just included it so my readers could maybe learn a little bit more about me. I read an ad in my local Florida newspaper looking for people to come to Madrid for three weeks to speak only English to businessmen. Since Spain was on my bucket list and since all my expenses would be paid for except my air fair over and back, I filled out an application. Unfortunately they had such a huge response, I wasn’t chosen. Too bad, it would have been fun.
Englishtown
I was born in the northern part of the USA, the oldest of five children, but migrated south to Florida when I met my husband. The prospect of traveling with him was infinitely more enticing than staying in college, so I dropped out of an accounting program after two years. Before his death in 1998, we traveled all over the US, Mexico and Canada. For most of my life I’ve been interested in life long learning, whether it’s golf, the piano or bridge. Several years ago I took a creative writing class and now spend most of my time, when not traveling, writing, both fiction and nonfiction. I also volunteer in a mentoring program — requesting young boys who seem to be on waiting lists longer than girls. One thing I’ve learned is that we are, each one of us, the master of our own destiny. Friends have identified my best qualities as efficiency, flexibility, loyalty, generosity, and a wonderful sense of humor. Rather than just coast through life, I prefer to make things happen. At this stage of my life, I’ve learned to accept that certain things cannot be changed, but I work like a beaver to change the things that I can. I’m planning a trip to Australia and New Zealand in the not too distant future. I recently traveled through the Panama Canal (solo) and to Alaska. To sum up, my greatest passion is traveling.
The fact that I’ll be able to experience the Spanish culture with very little expense as well as take part in a program that will help other people is what intrigues me about Pueblo Inglés. My ability to talk nonstop on a variety of subjects (my husband used to call me motor-mouth) plus the fact that I’m genuinely interested in people, exuberant and helpful makes me an ideal candidate for your program.
Conversation could be geared toward sharing family experiences, travel adventures, computer problems, problems with job interviews, unrest in the world and interesting pub visits. Group activities could center around playing trivia games, writing practice resumes, or telling humorous stories. I own a great little book called “The Book of Questions” by Gregory Stock, Ph.D. containing 200 thought-provoking questions that I intend to bring along. A few samples: If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one ability or quality, what would it be? Which of the following restrictions could you best tolerate: leaving your country permanently, or never leaving the country in which you now live? You are invited to a party that will be attended by many fascinating people you’ve never met. Would you want to go if you had to go by yourself?
Since I’m retired, my dates are not set in concrete. However, I intend to kill two birds with one stone and visit friends in the southern UK before I come to Madrid. Thus, the sooner I know what dates you have available, if I qualify, the easier making my plans will be. Thank you for your consideration.
Lil Cromer
Chapter 16
Road Trips
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Freedom is guided by your mood, not a map.
There were years of road trips without journaling, so the following incidents are from my memory. Throwing snowballs in June at Pike’s Peak, a little over 14,000 feet. Driving through Bryce Canyon and the Grand Tetons and being awestruck. We were at the bottom of Hoover dam the year George Wallace was shot. We stopped in the Amana colonies in Iowa enjoying the homemade food and checking out the finely crafted furniture.
In Leadville, CO we stopped in for a beer one afternoon around 2:00. Sitting at the bar we struck up a conversation with three miners, two males and one female. Turns out they were enjoying a few beers before heading down into the mine for their eight hour shift. The description of the mine, the elevator shaft, the depth and other facts I can’t remember mesmerized us. These three offered to take us down for a tour of the mine. We declined as we had a reservation at Colorado Springs and were meeting friends.
For several summers we spent a month near Washington, DC in Alexandria, VA housesitting for some of Hal’s friends. Their homeowners insurance became null and void if their huge two-story home sat unoccupied. What a great time we had visiting the Smithsonian, Arlington Cemetery, the monuments and various other places. We played golf near the Tidal Basin where Wilbur Mills, Senator from Arkansas, saw his career disintegrate right before his eyes. His stripper girlfriend jumped out of his car and dove into the Tidal Basin. This day of golf was memorable because my golf score bested both Hal and his friend, all of us playing from the white tees. I’d just bought a new three wood with a jade insert hitting it straight and a mile off the tee. We went back to his friend’s home in Bethesda for dinner and drinks. While sitting around the pool a man walked into the yard who was the spitting image of G. Gordon Liddy. These friends regaled us with many inside-the-Beltway stories. Hal had too much to drink, so he gave me the keys — guess he’d rather I get the DUI. Washington, like many other cities, was not built on a grid but a host of circular streets. The time was midnight and I was hopelessly lost. Eventually, we made it back to Alexandria without incident.
One summer we invited my cousins from Chicago to come up for the 4th of July weekend. We planned to take the subway to the Capitol and watch the fireworks. But after a day of touring in the July heat, we elected to stay in and watch the celebration on TV. But the reason for this anecdote is what my cousin admitted after a few beers. Earlier we had been at the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool and the temperature was hovering around 100 degrees. I suggested we take our shorts off and jump in. My cousin politely refused. Turns out he didn’t pack any briefs to wear with his short shorts, boxers would stick out so he went au natural.
We paid a visit to my Uncle Sig in Alexandria, the same place my family spent our one and only vacation when I was a child. Amazing how small my uncle’s house looked when I returned as an adult. Hal rode bikes with my uncle in Rock Creek Park one day and when he returned said, “Lil, your uncle is a daredevil! I’m lucky to be alive.” Unfortunately, Uncle Sig died a few years later. His bike hit a rock and he fell hitting his head.
Hal had a nasty habit of seeing how close to empty he could get the gas gauge before filling up. We were on our way to Fort Huachuca, AZ, an Army Intelligence Base near the Mexican border to play golf. I suggested filling up as this was rugged, rather desolate country. Did Hal listen? Hell no! Well when the car began to sputter, I loudly proclaimed I was not walking to the gas station. Fortunately, the last mile or so into town was downhill so we were able to coast in.
The year we drove through New England, I remember two incidents. The first was in Kennebunkport, ME, the summer home of the Bushes. Our robin egg blue Plymouth died forcing us to spend the night while repairs were made. We had a delightful visit with the locals. It’s amazing how compact the entire New England of six states is. I learned the reason there are so many good Italian restaurants and good pizza places, the fisherman were Portuguese.
The second incident happened in Rockport, MA. Our Florida neighbors, Morris and Annette, owned a cozy summer home right on the Atlantic Ocean. Sitting outside, not more than a half a block from the ocean, we ate Maine lobster on newspapers, butter dripping down our chins. What a treat!
One year we found ourselves in Pigeon Forge, TN. What a quaint little town. I visited a Chinese hairdresser who had two huge dogs in her yard; I was afraid to get out of the car. Right outside our hotel a babbling brook lulled us to sleep, it was so serene
. I’ve since been back to Pigeon Forge and the extensive development made me long for the peaceful days.
*
Since I’d never owned a brand new car, I decided to treat myself to one. My choices were whittled down to four: a Toyota, a Nissan, a Honda or a Hyundai. After much research, I settle on a Hyundai Sonata. Then I decided a long road trip was in order.
On a hazy sultry morning in the summer of 2011, with the 6:30 a.m. temperature already at eighty-five degrees, I set out on an adventure that would last about six weeks and cover nearly 5000 miles. The euphoria over the awesome sense of freedom was indescribable.
As I left the rush hour scene around Tampa behind and headed north on I-75 I began to read the numerous array of billboards. Between the “Cafe Risqué, we bare all” were those from the pro-lifers like, “If you’re pregnant, the baby’s heart is already beating.” A real source of anxiety; young folks were not only texting they were doing it in the passing lane!
It didn’t take long to get into a cooler climate, the temperature when I crossed the NC border was seventy-five degrees, almost felt fall-like and it was the middle of June. No wonder I’ve had a long love affair with NC. The state is clean and loaded with trees. I’ve entered the world of “Yes or No Ma’am.” The two rest stops were immaculate, so much so I was prompted to compliment a male attendant. He smiled and bid me a safe journey.
My new Hyundai Sonata handled so well on the road I decided to give it a name: Silver Bullet. I started out getting 35 mpg, a far cry from what my old Lincoln gave me. But by the end of the trip, she was getting 45 mpg.
Burlington, NC, a city of 50 K, is an old railroad and textile city. The tour of the Village at Brookwood, a retirement community, was both interesting and informative. I toyed with the idea of renting a place next summer for a month or two; however there are no furnished rentals available. The folks in NC are a friendly lot and very helpful. Spent a couple days in Murphy, NC in the western mountains. I visited with friends Carolyn and Richie Story, a fun-loving couple. Views of Lake Chatuge from their deck are breathtaking.
On my way to Mt. Airy, I stopped at a Taco Bel. At a table next to me sat two young boys who took their ball caps off before eating. On my way out I went up to them and said, “Whoever taught you boys manners deserves a big pat on the back.” They responded, “Thank you ma’am.” Sat at the counter at the Snappy Diner in Mt. Airy and talked to the locals while enjoying the blue plate special followed by a piece of homemade blueberry pie. Some are upset that their little town is a tourist destination honoring Mayberry, others are happy that their town has a thriving economy. While wandering down Main St. I spotted shop after shop of Mayberry memorabilia. I found a picture of Barney Fife and the Mt. Pilot girls and bought it for a friend. To this day when she greets me she says, “Hello Doll,” in the same nasal drawl used by the Mt. Pilot girls.
I got lost in Winston Salem, due to to road construction. A nice young hostess at a restaurant set me on the right path and apologized for the poor signage the DOT put up.
Woody, my chiropractor, told me that his sister, Leslie, practiced in Yadkinville, NC. It wasn’t too far out of the way, but then again I didn’t really have a designated route. When I located her office in this sleepy little town, she came out to greet me with a baby on her hip and two toddlers by her side. There were two more kids I didn’t meet. She was amazed that somebody from Florida would look her up. Wish I had known then that Yadkinville is home to many vineyards.
Lexington, a city of 300K, is famous for raising horses. The Queen has visited here on numerous occasions. Margaret Mitchell, back in the 30s, stayed in one of the horse farm mansions while her husband went to the U of K. It’s said she got the idea for GWTW at that mansion. Belle Brezing, the town madam, also played a part in her novel, being the model for Belle Watling.
A four hour tour of Keeneland Racing Park and several horse farms was outstanding. There are over 400 horse farms in the Lexington area, many with interesting histories. William Shatner of Star Trek and Boston Legal fame owns a home and horse farm near Lexington where he and his 4th wife raise American Saddlebreds. The reason for Kentucky’s success of breeding world class winners is two fold: the grass growing on limestone rock provides healthy nutrients for the horses and the rolling hills are good for leg strengthening. Horses are buried in a unique way, only the head, heart and hooves are put in the grave, the rest is cremated. If the winters were a bit milder in Lexington, I’d consider living there.
There’s a legend around Lexington that I found pretty interesting — the Legend of the Blue Horse. The grass takes on a bluish tint, especially in the early spring, hence the nickname Bluegrass Region. The legend goes that a horse called “Big Lex” turned blue by grazing in the nourishing bluegrass pastures his whole life.
While in Lexington, I tried to set up a date with my Florida neighbor Woody, but he had a run in with a weed wacker.
I deviated to NW Indiana, place of my birth, to see a dying cousin — I made it by three hours. While waiting for the family to make funeral plans I visited old haunts, friends and relatives. Silver Bullet needed a bath so I pulled into a place advertising “Car Wash $3.00.” What an efficient operation! A young man takes your cash, sticks it in a machine, you then pull into line then drive through the wash. Afterwards you’re handed a small cork air freshener, coupons for McDonald’s and another car wash, and a throw-away towel for drying. Unlimited vacuuming is provided after the wash. But it gets better! I decided to use the McDonald’s coupon, buy one sandwich get one free. While eating I noticed several older men setting up instruments in the corner of the restaurant. One knocked me in the head as he walked by with his guitar strapped to his back. Turns out they play music every Tuesday afternoon at this location and from the crowd gathered it must be a popular event. Drove by a huge turbine farm in the country on my way here.
Brandon making himself at home in my hotel room in Indiana
My 4th of July weekend in Illinois was a lot of fun. I took my last remaining Uncle for drives in the country visiting a military cemetery that resembled a miniature Arlington, a shrine called the “Passions of Christ,” the graves of his brother and sister and stopped into a pub or two. On the holiday his daughter hosted a mini family reunion, with game playing and plenty of home cooked food.
Michigan bills itself as Pure Michigan, whatever the heck that means. However, for some unexplainable reason Michiganders don’t expend any time or energy keeping their cars clean. I saw more extremely filthy cars on Michigan roads than in any other state.
My friends in Hillsdale, MI own fifty-five acres of property with a huge log home in the middle of it. They insisted I come to the bowling alley with them as it was their league night. Their league took up half of the sixteen alleys and for a second I thought I was out in Montana. Nobody wore bowling shirts, some sported wife-beater shirts, most had on tshirts and jeans. The beer flowed and all seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves. On my friend’s team was a fun-loving girl who couldn’t break 100 and a retired guy who regularly bowls over 200. He missed a perfect game that night by only one frame.
While visiting other friends, Jim and Joan, on a small lake in Quincy, MI, their neighbor asked me where I was headed next. When I answered Milwaukee, he asked if I’d ever been to the Upper Peninsula (UP); he insisted I drive up there then come around the northern side of Lake Michigan to get to Milwaukee. And boy am I ever glad I did. The UP turned out to be one of the highlights of this road trip.
Driving from southern Michigan to the Upper Peninsula I passed through Gaylord, MI which is half way between the equator and the North Pole. The view of Lake Michigan on my left and Lake Huron on my right as I crossed the Mackinac Bridge was a sight to behold. It was so gorgeous I turned around and drove over it again, paying another toll.
I stopped in St. Ignace at the Quality Inn where they upgraded me to a huge room with a king bed and a Jacuzzi that overlooked Lake Huron. Normally, I don’t care to use Jacuzzis, but after
climbing a lookout with 159 steps my first day there, I needed a long soak, a glass of wine and a little Ben-Gay. I’ve never tried harder to fill out a comment card — they seemed to be nonexistent at this hotel.
The second day I took the fifteen minute ferry ride over to Mackinac Island where I spent the better part of the day. Horse poo assaulted my nostrils when I disembarked the ferry. Known for fur, fudge and fish, the Island was where John Jacob Astor began his fur trading business. It’s interesting to note that motorized vehicles, except police, fire, and ambulances, are banned from the island. I took a $23.00 carriage ride all around the island which was discovered by a Jesuit named Father Marquette. The French were responsible for building it up. The focal point on the island is the Grand Hotel built in just ninety-four days. I paid $10.00 just to walk through this magnificent place. More lilac bushes can be found in the UP than anywhere else in the country. For lunch I tried a local specialty, a whitefish Reuben sandwich, what a treat. I had my share of pasties which can be found everywhere in the UP.
When the water freezes between the island and the mainland an ice bridge is formed and can last anywhere from three weeks to three months depending on the weather. Locals use their stockpiled Christmas trees to mark the bridge. The locals love it because it’s the only time of the year when they are not dependent on a set schedule and it’s free. I’d like to own a snowmobile dealership up there.
Driving westward along Rt. 2 on the topside of Lake Michigan I was awarded brief glimpses of the lake between miles and miles of pine trees. A large deer ran across the road in front of two motorcyclists ahead of me, a close call. Saw several dead deer on that highway.
