Marfa Who?

LA/XC-2 DAYS TWENTY-ONE AND TWENTY-TWO:  SANTA FE, NEW MEXICO; AUSTIN, TEXAS

Day Twenty mileage:  333

Day Twenty-one mileage: 376

Total LA/XC-2 mileage: 6,214

Weather leaving Santa Fe:  75 and brilliant sunshine

Road Music: Texas favorites, in honor of Austin, “Live Music Capitol of the

World”:  Trish Murphy, Pat Green, Robyn Ludwick, Janis Joplin, ZZ Top; “All Songs” from iPod

It was Wednesday morning.  The itinerary called for me to drive to Marfa, Texas.  Marfa was 540 miles from where I was — Santa Fe — and I hadn’t even had a chance to lay eyes yet on Santa Fe (drove in after dark, duh), which I’d traveled over 400 miles the previous day to see. If I took my time and strolled around Santa Fe, what ungodly time would it be when I finally reached Marfa?  Not to mention, Marfa was a few hundred miles out of my way en route to Austin, forming a triangle path rather than a straight line.

And then it hit me.  Like a bolt out of the blue.  Divine inspiration.  Screw my itinerary! After all, who produced it?  Me! And screw Marfa!  What was the big deal about Marfa, anyway?  My friend Nancy had told me about it; she said some young people she knew who were traveling around the world mentioned Marfa as a nice, artsy place.

And Nancy was the only person who’d even heard of Marfa.  Everyone else just thought I was mispronouncing “Martha.”

With that load off my mind, with no destination and no timetable, I relaxed, and really enjoyed Santa Fe.  I’d been here once before, 15 years ago, for our 25th anniversary — Carol, correct me if I’m right.  (That’s an inside joke.  Matt’s friend Eli used to say “Correct me if I’m right” when they were both on the Jaguars in Westport Little League.)  It’s one of those cities that’s beautiful any direction you look.  Ricky and I parked in front of the El Dorado (for

old times’ sake; that’s where Carol and I stayed last time around), and then strolled up San Francisco to the central plaza, with Ricky drawing “Aw, he’s so cute!(s)” and making friends the whole way.  Eventually he took a nap in his crate in the Acura (yes, doors locked, windows cracked), and I had a delicious, leisurely chicken quesadilla lunch on the back patio of the very adorable Burro Alley Cafe.

Ricky and I finally hit the road at 3 PM.  With Marfa off the table, we’d drive as far as we could drive, stop before dark — finally! — and then make it to Austin (one of my real destinations) easily the following day.  We arrived in Roswell, New Mexico, well before dark, and made a pit stop.  Ricky tugged me around the parking lots of Walmart, Sam’s Club, and Chili’s, sniffing for UFO’s.  We got gas and saddled up again; my idea was to stop at the next town down the road.  The trouble was, the next town down the road was Tatum, New Mexico, 47 miles away, and it had no motel.  Nor did the town after that, Plains, Texas.  By then the bright, late-afternoon of Roswell had become the pitch-black of Middle-of-Nowhere.  I can’t say I was experiencing that same carefree, gee-whiz-isn’t-this-all-great traveler’s high I felt earlier that day in Santa Fe.  My at-home travel agent — Carol — was finally able to locate a room for me in a motor inn in Seminole, Texas.  Seminole, Texas, was 130 miles from where I was at that moment.  When Ricky and I arrived, it was 10:30 PM Central Time.  (On top of everything else, we lost an hour simply by crossing the state line from New Mexico to Texas.)  Seminole smelled like the New Jersey Turnpike up around Elizabeth.  The motor inn looked like the Nightmare on Elm Street.  (I won’t mention the

name; I’m sure the proprietor is hard-working and doing the best he can in a very depressed part of the state.  But if you really want to figure it out, there aren’t a whole lot of motor inns in Seminole, Texas.)  When I gave Carol a description the next day, she reminded me that last year on LA/XC-1 I also stayed at a horror show motel — and it was also in Texas:  Amarillo.  Hmmm. . .

A word about the roads I traveled on Wednesday, between Santa Fe and Seminole, and Thursday, between Seminole and Austin.  These were exactly the kind of roads you picture when you think of a cross-country road trip.  Straight as an arrow, flat as a pancake, and with nothing to see but sky.  I drove through four counties in New Mexico — four counties! — without laying eyes on another human being.  I did see the most beautiful rainbow ever in Vaughn, though.

Oh, and I want to tell you about my new Road Music plan for the next few days.  Having heard most of the albums and playlists I’d been wanting to hear when I set out, I’ve now starting listening to “All Songs” on my iPod.  That’s 4,132 tunes.  That way I get to hear some old faves I’ve totally forgotten about and haven’t heard in some time.  Should keep me busy for awhile.  (11.2 days, to be exact.)   🙂

Austin is great.  Had been here only once before, for less than 24 hours, when Robby was looking at U.T.  Loved it then, love it now.  Actually arrived in daylight, proving to myself it can be done.  Ricky and I walked all over town yesterday:  the State Capitol, Congress Street, the 6th Street music joints.  And then across the bridge over Lady Bird Lake to South Congress, where I was able to grab dinner at Guero’s Taco Bar while Ricky slept.  We stayed overnight at a La Quinta Inn at the corner of San Jacinto and 11th, in a suite that rivaled the splendor of our recent rooms in Best Western Plus, my reigning favorite chain.  Of course, it probably seemed especially luxurious after our lodgings in Seminole the night before.

And now, another dilemma:  There’s still a lot I want to see here in Austin, and the next stop on my itinerary is New Orleans, 508 miles away.  I love The Big Easy, but I’ve been there twice before for long stays; if I go there today, I’ll barely have time for a beignet and an Abita Amber.  And it’s not on a direct line to Atlanta, where I want to be on Saturday.  So what’ll I do?  You guessed it.  Screw New Orleans! We’ll take our time in Austin, point the Acura to Atlanta, and wind up tonight where we wind up.  I just hope it’s not Seminole.

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