No Robby? No Problem!

Was talking last Friday to one of my Hartford writing students — a hardcore dog lover who also happens to be a big-time fan of this blog.  She knows pretty much all there is to know about the LA/XC series, my annual cross-country road trips from Westport to Los Angeles to bring Ricky (originally) and Kemba (more recently) out to visit our son Robby at school at USC.  One trip for each of his four years there.

I started to tell her about early plans for my fifth cross-country trek to L.A., scheduled for this September.  “But Robby’s not in Los Angeles anymore,” she interrupted.  “Didn’t he graduate over a year ago?”

Busted!

Yes, that’s correct, Robby’s not out there anymore.  Yes, he graduated in May 2015.  Yes, he’s been living and working in NYC for the better part of a year now.  And no, the truth is, I really don’t have an excuse to drive clear across the country with my dog anymore.

But I’m going anyway.

Here’s how I see it.  Carol and I, after four years of visiting our son in sunny SoCal, have developed a strong taste for the Santa Monica life, and decided, as empty nesters, to spend some weeks in October out there.  But was I going to leave my constant companion Kemba behind in CT?

I think not!

And since Kemba’s not exactly airline carry-on material, that means I’m right back to my old interstate routine.  With, I should add, a major difference this time around.

Carol’s joining me on the road!

No, no, not for the whole thing — please!  She’s flying to Denver (we have tickets for Dierks Bentley at Red Rocks, long at the top of my bucket list of concert venues), then staying on for the Denver-to-L.A. leg.  Not the entire country, but not chump mileage, either.  She’s heard me raving for years about the Grand Canyon and Utah’s rock formations and the amazing kick of seeing this whole crazy country up close and personal . . . and she’s decided to give it a go.

How do I think it’s gonna work out??

Well . . . let’s put it this way.  Over the 32,391 miles I covered on my previous four

trips, Carol has chosen to join me for exactly one measly 250-mile stretch — the max she’s willing to travel by car in one day.  Nashville to Atlanta that was, back in 2013.  And it wasn’t pretty.  She moaned and groaned pretty much every inch of it.

She complained of being carsick.  She told me I was playing my music too loud.  She critiqued my navigation skills, my driving speed, you name it.  And she wasn’t the only unhappy camper:  Ricky the Beagle was none too thrilled about having to surrender his shotgun seat.

And that, as I said, was only for 250 miles.

This time around, we’re talking upwards of 1,200 miles.  With her strict 250-miles-a-day ceiling, that’ll work out to five days on the road.  To cover a distance I’d normally do in two, maybe three days tops.

Something tells me you’ll be reading about those five days this fall . . .

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