The Rearview Mirror…

Road tripping this week left a lot of time for reflection, and little time for writing. As I spent hour after hour looking through the windshield, I started thinking about the rearview mirror and how I live my life. Of course the mirrors are useful, but most of my time is spent looking forward, eagerly anticipating what is coming. You’ll often find the words “mirror” and “reflection” used together and that has led me to this week’s musings.

I equate my reflections to memories, things in my past. In our brain, memories are stored in places with long names like hippocampus and neocortex. In today’s world, they are more easily stored in our phones, social media accounts, and even in the cloud. Rearview mirrors show us a fleeting view of what we’ve just passed. Our phones can be lost, social media can be hacked, and who knows what trouble can come to the cloud. That leaves us with the unerasable memories we’ve created and stored within ourselves.

While I am very excited about what we’re going to be seeing in our windshield in the days and years to come, I’m also glad that I’ve got a collection of memories to reflect on as we pass the time covering thousands of miles across our country. Over the next two weeks, we’re traveling back to my old stomping grounds in Kansas, and over the next couple of months, we’re heading to Park City (Utah not Kansas) for an extended stay in the mountains. Planning all this has me reflecting on a few memorable road trips from my past.

My first car was a 1973 Pontiac LeMans. We purchased it used, like it just came off the showroom floor. Back then, KP and I couldn’t leave our cars stock so modifications had to be made. New paint, landau roof, and air shocks to accommodate the bigger wheels and tires. This was my high school car, used for dragging Douglas on Friday and Saturday nights and taking to the post-game parties on Webb Road or 99th Street. I never really needed a rearview mirror because my right foot was always on the floor.

Looking back doesn’t always end well. One Saturday afternoon, KP and I passed a carload of girls on a busy Wichita street. Instead of looking ahead, I was busy checking the mirrors and rear-ended two other cars. That was the end to the LeMans, putting to rest any road trip dreams on those maroon vinyl seats.

The LeMans as she was purchased…

…and after she was modified. (Cheerleaders decorated our houses before games.)

Over the years there have been a lot of cars. The demise of the LeMans started the parade of Trans Ams that got me through college (interrupted only briefly by one Z/28).

Spring break of our sophomore year, KP and I planned a road trip to Tulsa. (The reason for choosing Tulsa is being left out to protect the innocent). My Trans Am and KP’s Firebird hauling five guys hit the road. A quick two-and-a-half-hour trip, with no definite plans, just looking ahead to a good time. We were cruising right along, without a care in the world, until we were passed by a carload of girls with a “Padre or Bust” sign in the back window.

At the first gas stop, that car full of girls was all we could talk about. It didn’t take long for our plans to change. Padre Island here we come. It didn’t matter that we had only planned for a two-day trip… or that we had only packed for March in Tulsa, not the beach… or that none of us could afford the gas for what had just turned into a 1,500 mile trip.

I will admit that the bulk of guilt for this poor decision fell on me. Somewhere between Austin and San Antonio, KP realized we may not have been thinking it through, but I convinced him to power on by proclaiming I could “smell the ocean.” To make a long trip short – we made it to the ocean, barely got our feet wet, didn’t meet any girls, and headed back home. Several more hijinks occurred along the way, but we’ll save those for another post.

The first TA…

…and the lone Z/28 (on what was apparently a very windy day).

After college, life got in the way. And while there were still a few road trips, serious windshield time didn’t happen again until Amy and I got together. Initially our trips were in the saddles of our Harleys, but we soon gravitated to the comfort of our trucks and RVs.

Our first long trip with our big rig, a 47′ toy hauler, was to the Greater Swiss Mountain Dog National Specialty Show in Loveland, Colorado. We were meeting many of our dog friends who were also traveling along the same route from the Chicago area. They had planned a one-night stop in a state park in the middle of Nebraska. Thanks to an overzealous highway patrolman in Illinois, we were running several hours late and arrived in the area around midnight.

Amy prides herself on her navigation skills but this night put her to the test. If you’ve never been there, central Nebraska has pretty much nothing. No towns, no lights, few signs, and it’s very dark at midnight. We managed to get off the highway at the right exit, but found ourselves speeding by the entrance to the park. There was no place to turn around and the roads were several miles apart and mostly dirt. At Amy’s urging, I made a left after a couple miles onto what we thought was a road, only to find ourselves in the middle of a field. Yes, a field. Thank God for the F-350 and four-wheel drive. It got us out of the field but not going to where we needed to be.

Our next attempt to get going in the right direction was through a small subdivision with cars lining both sides of the streets. Maneuvering through that obstacle course was an accomplishment to be proud of (if only it hadn’t been so dark that I could actually see what I was doing). Probably an hour after exiting the highway, we met up with our friends. I found a beer and a few hours sleep before the adventure continued the next morning.

Our camping stories could take volumes and will be shared at some point. Imagine pulling this rig all over the country.

Things could have been worse. We spotted this setup outside of Dubuque, Iowa.

Telling stories has drawn me away from this week’s point. While I love looking back, it’s what’s ahead that keeps me going. Once it’s behind you, it either becomes a memory or it just doesn’t matter. Best memories seldom happen alone. I’m blessed to have my best friend sitting beside me as we keep looking through that windshield for new memories to carry with us through the years. I’ve also been blessed to have KP, and others, along for the ride, giving me enough content to fill several books. While Lou Gehrig’s disease can be seen somewhere on the horizon, I keep it (mostly) in the rearview mirror, not as a memory, but more like a stretch of road construction that’s only slowed me down.

Thanks for hanging in there with me for yet another week. As always: Find joy wherever you can, then share it.

Have a great weekend.

God bless.

Coach