The Revelation

LA/XC DAYS THREE AND FOUR:  NASHVILLE / TULSA / AMARILLO

Road Music Saturday:  Country from my iPod ( stretch of I-40 between Nashville and Memphis is known as “Music Highway”); College football on XM Radio; Sunday: NFL Radio — Sunday Drive

Two-day state tally:  4 (Tennessee, Arkansas, Oklahoma, Texas)

New states for Beagle Man:  2 (Arkansas, Oklahoma)

Driving along the Muskogee Turnpike to visit Bob and Dee (Matt’s girlfriend Lindsey’s parents) in Tulsa on Saturday night, I was a mental wreck.  I had set out way too late (again!) from Nashville, would be reaching Tulsa well after dark, and was exhausted.

Worse, my iPod had crapped out, which for me, qualifies as a disaster.  But the biggest problem was that Ricky had driven me over the edge with his frenzied forays into the back of the car.  He truly had become Feral Dog.  Each pit stop, which should have lasted five minutes, had turned into a half-hour wrestling match between me and my dog.  I couldn’t even run to the men’s room without coming back and finding him wedged between crates and assorted canvas bags, trying manically to gnaw his way through the industrial-strength plastic of his food container.

Of all people, it was Cousin Brucie to the rescue.  Without a functioning iPod, I was forced to rely on XM radio way more than usual:  CNN, ESPN; Country Prime; New Country; Alt Nation; E Street Radio.  Finally, I gave “’60s Pop Hits with Cousin Brucie” a shot.  Lots of you may remember him as one of the all-time great disk jockies from the 60’s and 70’s, but my connection to Cousin Brucie goes deeper than that:  My senior year at Teaneck High School, we got THS principal Miss Hill elected Principal of the Year — and Cousin Brucie came and did a show at the Teaneck High School football field!  I couldn’t believe I was hearing him again after all these years, and was thinking:  What a great idea for XM Radio to bring back his old shows.  It wasn’t until I heard him mention Facebook that I realized this wasn’t an old show; this was Cousin Brucie live! I would have bet money that he was d-e-a-d dead; he’s got to be at least 150 years old!  Well, anyway, he sounded great — a lot like a pop music Dick Vitale.

Ricky and I finally arrived at the Mongrain house at 9:50, about two hours behind schedule, but we got a rousing Oklahoma

welcome from Bob and Dee, and also from the dachshund triumvirate of Chloe, Zoe, and Tucker:  They buzzed and yapped around my stunned beagle like crazed wind-up toys.  We had a delish BBQ dinner, and I was feeling a lot better about LA/XC.

But the real revelation came on Sunday morning, in the shower.  Dee had researched those car pet barriers for me, and had located a Tulsa store that sold them and would be open on Sunday.  I was wondering, though, how I could possibly set it up in the utter disaster area the Acura way-back had become.  There was so much crap back there I never should have brought: two humongous cannisters of water some nervous-nelly website told me I should never be without on a cross-country drive; tons of running gear I’d never have time to use; tons of books I’d never have time to read, and Ricky’s crate, which was just eating up space.  I’d already cut my hand on the damn thing when I was searching for a fresh T-shirt and boxers.

Wait a minute.  I had Ricky’s crate in the car, and I was looking to buy and set up a dog barrier? I had Ricky’s crate, and I was

using it to store his squeaky toys and blankets in?  Hey, here’s an idea:  Instead of madly

chasing my beagle all over the car, from the steering wheel to the rear hatch, how ’bout I use Ricky’s crate to put Ricky in???!!!  Wow.  Dee said later, “I wondered if you’d brought along a crate, but I assumed if you had, you’d be using it.”  Ya think?  In fairness, I’d brought the crate to use for our full week in L.A., and had kind of put it out of my mind.  But still . . .

Anyway, problem solved.  I emptied the entire contents of the car on the Mongrain driveway, re-packed it with every item in its proper place — and headed west toward Amarillo.  And then another miracle:  My iPod started working again.  Guess it just needed a rest.  Along the way, at Bob and Dee’s suggestion, I got off the interstate for a very cool stretch of classic Route 66:  Funky, old-timey burger-and-beer joints;

more Hell’s Angels per capita than I’ve ever seen in my life, and Pop’s — a “soda ranch”/restaurant featuring more than 500 flavors of soda, from Freaky Dog Watermelon to Squamscot Grape to Captain Eli’s Lemon Lime Pop.

Ricky and I reached our Amarillo motel in time to watch the J-E-T-S whup the Cowboys.  I ordered Pizza Hut.  Ricky ate the box.

Strangest roadside sign spotted today: Oklahoma — the shopping cart was invented in our great state.

Tomorrow:  a long haul across the Texas panhandle, New Mexico, and Arizona — and on to the Grand Canyon.  I expect Ricky might be logging some crate time on this one . . .