Though I hinted this might be the case in an earlier post, now it’s fact: Our youngest son is heading west to USC in August to start his college career, and my wife and I couldn’t be happier: We’ve often said where the third kid goes to school should be all about where the parents want to visit.
Though he’s the first Herman to venture off the beaten track of East Coast schools, he’s shown zero trepidation — except for one major concern: He expects to miss his dog something fierce. But resourceful, persistent kid that he is (See Feb. 2 post, “Dad, Can I Have a Dog?”), he’s already worn me down, and extracted a pretty major concession: I promised to drive cross-country with Ricky, and then stay with him in L.A. for awhile, to ease Robby’s withdrawal pains.
Now while I might moan and groan about being coerced into this undertaking, the truth is — I’m kind of intrigued. A cross-country jaunt, with a snoring little ball of fur riding shotgun? Echoes of On the Road . . . Route 66 . . . Travels with Charley . . . The romance of the open road! The ultimate buddy story! A book! A movie! A mini-series! Or at the very least, a lot of stuff for daily blog entries — from outposts like St. Clair MO, San Fidel NM, and Winslow AZ.
And if you’re wondering how’s a dog gonna handle all that time on the road, I can tell you that my Ricky — while he may have his tiny flaws — is the best car dog in the entire U.S. of A.! Put him in the front passenger seat and he’ll look around for oh, maybe 14 seconds; then he’ll curl up into a perfect circle, tail in face, and snooze away. If I were able to drive from Boonton NJ to Sierra Madre CA nonstop, that’s how long Ricky would serenade me with his rhythmic heavy breathing.
There’s an awful lot to like about the prospects of this adventure: My dog’s peaceful company. Music — all 3,629 tunes on my iPod — with nobody to complain about the choice, or the volume. (Ricky likes the same music I do.) Pit stops in cool places. Snuggling up with my cozy little pup in motel beds across the country. And the look on Robby’s, and Ricky’s, face — not to mention the lickfest that will ensue — when we arrive at the Southern Cal campus.
Dog-friendly motels spaced out strategically across the country? I’m guessing I’m not the first person to attempt this passage, so the whole deal is undoubtedly already mapped out for me somewhere on the internet. Comments from any reader who’s ventured cross-country with a dog would certainly be very much appreciated, as well.
One thing I’m all set with is my final stop. I’m already looking forward to plunking myself down at my favorite hotel right on the beach which, as I mentioned in an earlier post (“Milo, Haley, and the Dogs of Santa Monica”; March 8), will happily accept Ricky as a guest — for a small fee, of course.
Leave a Reply