Road Trip

I just got back from Texas and, boy, are my arms tired!

I rented a Chevy HHR. Although I am impressed with the gas mileage, I will never buy one for myself. The driver's seat was not made for someone of my height. My choice was either have the back at a comfortable angle and my head at an uncomfortable angle, or vice versa. (I think I need to get a massage to have my neck and shoulders worked back into their proper positions.) Nor could I get the seat low enough. They had an odd pump-action lever (in this model) that raised or lowered the seat like a barber's chair. Well, it raised it, at any rate. I could drive my head even further into the ceiling by raising the seat, but it was already bottomed out, so my eyes were never below the top of the windshield.

That's another reason I won't buy this vehicle: visibility is restricted. 1) Rear window is very small. 2) Very small rear window is obscured by rear passenger head rests. 3) Front and side visibility is restricted by very wide frame supports. 4) Windshield is too low for me to see out of (I had to duck to see traffic signals), and rear view mirror blocks my forward view (although I have these two problems with every car I've ever driven, so don't take off too many points for that).

I've implied this before, but I'll say it straight out now: don't trust online maps. The incomplete directions and poorly detailed map caused me to miss a turnoff and take the wrong highway. (I knew I should have made that left turn at Albuquerque.) Thankfully, it headed the same direction (just a little farther south), and I got to see parts of New Mexico and Texas I hadn't seen before. Who knew the middle of nowhere could be pretty? Unfortunately, the map didn't account for the dead end of the highway at an adult bookstore. (Excuse me, could you direct me to Brownfield? Oh, and while I'm here, I might as well pick up a cat-o-nine tails, a carton of aerosol whipped cream, that leather mask/ball gag set, and the personal massager that looks like a rubber duck in leather.)

The town of Levelland, TX itself was small (pop. 12,800) but comfortable. (It's a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there.) The employee driving me around was friendly (if we'd have had more time, I would have learned why he got divorced and just how old his daughter in Houston and his grandchild are), but even he had the small town blues. He kept asking me how to qualify for management jobs and what training the company offers, so he could move to a bigger (presumably better) place.

Speaking of friendly, the restaurant where I ate lunch was crowded, so I shared a large table with two men. Not only was it amusing to listen to them talk about their "kinfolk" and to share the ketchup bottle, the waitress came over after they left and told me they had paid my bill!

On the return trip, I located the correct highway and got to drive through Robomarkov's hometown and see how pretty this part of middle-of-nowhere was, too.

I was almost home free. I estimated about an hour left to drive, and then I was stopped by a roadblock for a missile test. Not only "Argh!", but it would have helped if there were notification on the road before getting there. Rather than standing around for 45 minutes in the blazing sun (yes, with sunblock and hat) trying to eat a half-melted protein bar, I could have eaten a proper lunch in an air-conditioned Alamogordo restaurant.

All in all, it wasn't a bad trip -- but if I have to do it again, I'm going to borrow one of my mom's road atlases, rather than trust an online source.