What can I say…I have a phobia about Texas. Living in Louisiana for 5 years and a couple George Bushs will do that to ya. Were it not for Lance Armstrong and Austin I’d probably refuse to even drive through that god forsaken state. I’ve always intensely disliked everything about Houston, hated the Dallas Cowboys…on and on.
Alright…with that off my chest. I departed the familiar environs of Baton Rouge and began the long trek east through the industrial refuse of the oil refinery corridor on the 10 Freeway towards Houston.
My goal was to make 2 overnight stops in Texas with the first stop only being relevant in that it offers some basic civility and that it places me within striking distance of Marfa for my second night in Texas. Marfa, high on the list of my good friends Tony’s places to visit in the US (design junky), was always one of my key destinations for the road trip.
More on Marfa in tomorrow’s leg.
I stopped at the first rest area in Texas as I was treated to a “low oil” warning light on my dash. Lovely to discover that in reality…this stop was fairly scenic and no one threatened to kill me or anything. I checked the first box on my “Survive the Texas Leg” of my trip diary which refers to not spontaneously combusting within the first 50 miles inside the Texas Border.
Seriously....i'm gonna show you all the "Blue Star Memorial Highway" signs scattered across the entire US without discrimination. It's very odd...but I think that perhaps every road in the US that goes on for more than 20 miles qualifies as a Blue Star Memorial Highway.
Never thought I’d be so excited to see a sign pointing to San Antonio. Really...never.
Yes...i'm still alive. I've been horribly negligent in posting and for those of you who were following along I hope you happen back upon Automobilification. At the very least I've had some real fun on wheels since my last post...not the least of which was the following event a few weeks ago:
For those of you who have expressed concern I can summarize my
departure from Automobilification updates via the following events
which have sucked me dry since the last post:
1. quit my job
2. started a new better job
3. dug into new job with gusto
4. got a family puppy
5. wrecked on my bike and nearly invoked "The Contract*" with the
wife
6. I have to cover Texas next
in any event...i do applogize for the delay in my return. I will hope
to continue to expound upon the merits of the cross country road
trip as a force in changing your life as there is still quite a lot of this
(and new) adventures to share.
All of that being said...I take to the next section of this trip with a
certain amount of trepidation which only makes sense 'cause we're
heading into Texas. Those who have driven across Texas know
what I'm talking about. The section between Baton Rouge and
Houston is just flat out nasty:
I will elaborate but this photo should offer some evidence.
So...without any further ado...i'm heading back into
Automobilification.
I appreciate your patience.
*The Contract:
In the event either party breaks both hands during the period
oftime defined by this union, the spousal duty will include all
normalduties in addition to attending to and maintenance of
regions of the body normally reserved for personal hygeine and
As I'm sure you've noticed by the length of time between posts that I made it back to LA and that I'm a little behind in updating the road trip! There's lot's to reveal and I've been combing through my notes and media and assembling forthcoming posts which will be here soon.
For those of you that have contacted me about whether or not I'll be continuing with postings post-road trip the short answer is yes! In fact...we are heading out the door right now for a family road trip which will undoubtedly create fodder for new postings. As you may imagine...the family road trip is a completely different animal from the road trip I've just completed with my Precious.
Occasionally I get a premonition of fun to be had...here's what came to me this morning:
Anyway...more to come when we get back! thanks for checking in and don't forget to check back a week from today (assuming we make it of course) for the next Automobilification post!
It should come as no surprise that visiting with dear friends from life’s key transformative years after a 20 year interruption AND visting them within the same formative environment where it all happened would trigger a wide range of emotions and recollections.
(my Baton Rouge lair in 1988 after a particularly fun party)
When I planned this trip…the Baton Rouge experience was to be the cherry on top of the 3000 miles of adventuring that lead up to being here. There’s still 2000 miles to go…so perhaps it’s a little premature to call this the apex…but this will undoubtedly be the pinnacle experience from the human perspective of the trip.
There’s such a sensory overload occurring here that it blinds any present understanding of the net spiritual effect of this event. When contemplating how quickly it seems these 20 years have passed…it’s no wonder I am a bit bewildered, contemplating mortality and feeling a not-quite-defined yet distinct sense of sadness and loss. I felt this feeling in Baton Rouge when I lived here...and perhaps it has something to do with the symbols connecting life and death being so prevalent in Baton Rouge.
Intellectually I understand there was no way to live both lives open to me when I hit that proverbial fork in the road after graduation…but I wish I could go down to the liquor store and pick up a bottle of “Jeff Suhy Baton Rouge Life - 1993” and take a swing or two.
I'll have to settle for more of the 1942 instead.
Hey…while I’m plying these waters…thought I’d spend a little time visiting a unique Louisiana locale….one of the many "Cities of the Dead"….places occupied by rows of deceased citizens in above-ground tombs.
The experience of spending a little time in one of these places will bring you to the present….especially when you are all fucked up thinking about the insanity of life. To this day most who have died in southern Louisiana are buried above ground due to the reality that storms here can literally raise the dead.
One of my most unfortunate experiences from the years I lived here took place in this particular "city." It certainly did not help that it occurred while under the influence of a hallucinogenic substance and in the company of a particularly insensitive anarchist tripping companion. I watched while he lit a torch and placed it into one of these many decomposed tombs in order to reveal the remains of a decomposed citizen to this horrified soul…a memory that still haunts me to this day.
I considered there was a good chance I’d get the heebeegeebees coming back here...and I thought that perhaps I’d just drive by and keep on rolling...but the beauty and power of this place is hard to resist. I had stopped to take a little walk to observe this haunting place from a more respectful perspective this time. It's a lot more relevant nowadays too...I'm closer to being one of these spirits than I was last time through.
The tombs are so tightly packed it’s hard to walk through. This being a city of low-income deceased-citizens and all. The rich are a little higher off the ground and their tombs are a little less ovenlike. None of those wealthy persons are resting in this place.
There really is no way to navigate around the city without climbing on top of and over tombs (bodies) to get deeper into the older part of the city. I’m sure it’s bad form…but I did it. There was no other way to get in. Any offense also pales in comparison to my last transgression here.
Nature is reclaiming these tombs and it feels organic and proper. The faces of the deceased are even emerging in the the tree gnarls. I'm telling you....there's magic/voodoo in Louisiana. It's a place unlike Los Angeles in that it wears decay proudly.
Death, spiritual icons, ancient oaks, bayou vistas, long lost familiar places and friends that knew me before I knew myself. This is the palate cleansing I came for...and just what I needed to appreciate the good fortune in my life and to be reminded how tenuous and fragile it is.
I woke up the next morning and had breakfast at one of my old favorite diners on the LSU campus. The characters in this town never cease to amaze me.
Upon departure from Baton Rouge I was to enter the isolation phase of the trip.
The next 4 days as I make my way back to LA will not involve any direct human interaction other than an occasional “I’d like to check in please.”
The impending 2000 miles could not be more anticipated at this point. I can think of no better way to digest the last 48 hours.
I’ve been wondering about fun lately…and I can say with some confidence that "fun" is being trumped on this trip by "satiated" and I could not be more pleased.
I am witness once again to the fact that the great American Road Trip is alive and well...and will pay dividends to those willing to take it on in the proper spirit.
It may be an obvious statement but suffice to say this trip is not only about sitting in Precious and driving 5000 miles. I believe I’m just the latest in a long line of persons who seek enlightenment through to process of driving into the unknown. Clearly…there is something innate in the American Psyche that associates road trips with transformative moments in life. I am compelled by this promise as well as by having experienced a number of road trips over the years which have been exceptionally memorable.
1962 300SE Cabriolet Road Trip in 2005
(Photos by the wife...Leslie Suhy)
Why is the road trip such a powerful event in one’s life?
A proper road trip is about the resultant desolation and/or enlightenment experienced by the road tripper as a direct result of placing one’s self in situations which naturally occur as a byproduct of the adventure. Almost invariably a road trip serves a higher purpose if it’s long enough and if you choose the right route. If you only travel on the freeway, only stay in predictable chain hotels and never talk to anyone it’s highly unlikely you will encounter the chaotic ingredients necessary to cook up an experience that leaves you satisfied.
This particular road trip for me comes at crossroads in my life. I would imagine you would not take on a road trip of this magnitude without a craving of some sort. I imagine I’ll get into some of the variables that constitute this craving but suffice to say for the moment that it’s not easy to build a creative life while steeped in a daily life of utility and duty. This road trip signifies an effort to gain momentum towards a new phase of life. This road trip is taken in the hope it will assist in the deconstruction of my reality and enable me to rebuild upon the good elements. I expect to move onward and upward from wherever I am now…In my experience that only happens after a slight detour outward and downward.
Today’s driving route retraces a significant route from an earlier time in my life where I suppose I would have been going through a similar search for a deeper meaning. I’m hoping that following a path which holds so many memories and experiences will trigger revelations, shocks and electricity that will strike a miraculous chord. Perhaps I’ll study decisions I’ve made in my life from a new perspective? Will I find comfort or distress looking at my life from this rare outside perspective?
I first drove this route while attending LSU in 1983. Having pretty much no idea what I wanted to do with my life I figured that I’d go to the warmest place that would have me and figure things out when I got there. I remember coming to Baton Rouge on my recruiting trip and being immediately struck by how ALIVE it is in Louisiana. Every nook and cranny filled with some kind of life or another.
The humid air is filled with a distinct potpourri of unregulated oil refinery toxins, boiled crawfish, small town sorority girl perfume and moldy things growing everywhere. It was also a bonus that Louisiana was the last state with a drinking age of 18...an age that mattered greatly to an 18year old making such a decision. It all came together for me and I felt this was the place to figure it all out. Given Baton Rouge’s toxicity level and rich dietary proclivities it’s also the most likely place in the USA to hatch mutated life forms outside of Tokyo.
Speaking of mutations...I think I started this as a blog about my obsession with cars?
The first thing that strikes me on this leg of the journey is how much nicer the terrain becomes the further south one travels. Today’s drive is over 600 miles…and in spite of increasingly hazardous road conditions on this particular day…it was becoming more visually stimulating, more driver friendly (less traffic) and more green the further south I went.
At one point a bit outside of Memphis the conditions became quite a concern:
(hailing in Arkansas at a particularly degradated and yet very beautiful location)
With the temperature hovering just below freezing and ice falling from the sky and clinging to the trees. I considered stopping for the night and waiting it out. Before I could get too deep into taking any action along these lines the ice turned into a soft rain and I officially escaped the brutish north and entered the sweet south.
Upon entering Tennessee I was free and clear. My focus moved towards the purpose for visting Baton Rouge. I was excited at the prospect of seeing people I’ve not seen in 20 years.
I wanted to revisit places I’ve not been to in 20 years.
(oak trees on LSU Campus)
Remember things I’ve not thought about in 20 years
I’m storming southward towards a confrontation with the spectre of that guy...I barely remember him even though he still inhabits this skin?
In the red corner it’s super dad:
He’s 43 years old and married with 2 youngsters along with a mortgage and all the “things” he ever wanted.
In the blue corner he’s a 22 year old KLSU music director and carefree senior at LSU:
He makes $50 a week at the aforementioned “job” and really likes psychedelics and any experience that will push the limit. He could give a shit what you think ‘cause he’s moving to Hollywood when he graduates. He also has a new girlfriend.
Today's drive was a bit more eventful than I expected…but just like anything memorable...that’s what made it worth doing. I saw other people careening and crashing...
...but my Precious pulled me through safe and sound.
I pulled into Jeana’s driveway and said goodnight to Precious.
(Precious in front of my 1986-1988 Baton Rouge apartment)
The road for the next day or so is one I want to traverse as slowly as possible and is thusly not resonant with the services offered by my highly strung Precious. It’s time to soak it all up, connect with a missed community of friends and reflect.
There’s simply not a hell of a lot to tell that would interest you regarding day 7 & 8 so I thought I’d take a step back, tell a story relating to the a noteworthy occurrence from day 8 and thank all of you for your warm response to Automobilification.It’s great sharing my experiences out on the road with you.As you might imagine if you’ve never done something like this before….a long road trip offers an opportunity to do a lot of two things….drive and think.Day 7 & 8 of this trip offer a little respite from the standard road trip fare and have been dedicated to spending time with Matt, Schu and Tommy P….partners in crime over the years.
One thing these gentlemen like to do is drink adult beverages…an activity that does not mix well with the aforementioned core road trip functions.On rare occasion they do mix…as was the case on Day 8.Before I get to that….I’d like to answer some questions posed by several readers with regards to the logistics of the trip.
James: “How do you pack for 2 weeks in that car and what’s the story with your weird luggage dude?”
The luggage is specially designed for the R8.Without it….you are simply unable to get anything in this car…or you have to use garbage bags for your clothes.
I don't think I'm too much of a snob…but pulling up to a hotel in this car and walking in carrying all your clothes in a couple garbage bags…well…I’ve done it but it’s not necessary now that I’ve procured the right luggage.I must also offer that it helps to have a cool wife that packs you a bunch of snacks in a nice leather briefcase so you can look real cool while lugging around oreos, jelly bellys, blow pops and other food one only eats during a road trip
.
Chris: “How fast are you driving on average?”
As you can see….I’m not always abiding by the posted speed limits.I actually signed up for “pre-paid legal” service before this trip (supposedly they will help erase your speeding tickets if your transgression is not too severe) and I mounted a Valentine radar detector permanently into my R8.I consider myself fairly well armed with these protections….so I would have to say I average about 85MPH on the freeway.I have calculated/rationalized that 10 MPH over the speed limit is what a non-testosterone enhanced cop expects you to do.15MPH over the speed limit can get you a ticket but it’s minor enough that it can be cleared by pre-paid legal.Over 100MPH is reserved for when there is no one on the road, conditions are optimal and you can see for miles ahead...conditions found on this road from another leg of the trip which compelled me to exceed the posted speed limit by a large margin.
In this car…about 190 MPH is possible in a controlled situation...in other words not a situation which you'd find on a public roadway. As you might imagine I find myself speeding more when there’s nothing to see and I just want to escape the place I’m driving through.I’m conforming more towards the 10MPH over rule when it’s a stimulating drive and I want to experience the place I’m driving through.
Justin: “Are you having fun?This would be torture for me.”
That is a great question and a timely one my friend.I think I’ll answer that with a story about being asked that question at a very transitional/formative time in my life.
For a variety of reasons it was not until I was a freshman in college before I had my first alcoholic beverage.It was not long after that glorious moment that I found myself drunk and in the ultimate of unfortunate scenarios.
Back in 1984 I was home from LSU for my last summer in Schaumburg before I moved to Louisiana full-time.It was during this time that I was experimenting with all the things the propaganda films in high school told me were bad.One morning in a post-experimental state I found myself sprawled out on a carpet in a pool of vomit at my friend Bill’s parent’s house. I came around at the moment his family began making a cheerful racket while decending the stairs for breakfast.
Having only been intoxicated once in my life at this point…I was uncertain what was happening other than I was about to get yelled at or perhaps even killed by Bill’s mean dad.A dad whose liquor we’d been drinking without his permission until the wee hours of the morning.It was an odd sensation ‘cause I could not see my hand in front of my face…nor could I stand up without grasping about with puked-up hands trying to haul myself off the floor. I think I utilized all Bill’s dad’s cream-colored furniture…anything really within my stumbling range was used to get me up and out the door before I got caught.I left a wake of destruction behind as I made a dash for the door and stumbled into my car.My car at this time was a new 1984 Ford Bronco II which my dad bought for me as a reward for getting a scholarship to LSU and for being such a responsible kid.
Somehow I slogged 4 miles across Schaumburg to my dad’s house without killing myself or anyone else…but as I was pulling into the driveway I did manage to drive my new Bronco over the lawnmower which my dad had placed in the driveway for use on this lovely Saturday morning.Still inexplicably blind and trying desperately to attain anything even remotely resembling composure I stumbled out of my Bronco and into the house.I'm sure I was trying to be quiet as I navigated my way to my bedroom…shhhh...stripping off my puke infused clothes en route to my bed leaving them strewn about the house.When I finally arrived at my bedroom I grabbed a garbage can, pulled it to the edge, crashed into my bed, leaned over the edge and continued expelling, sweating, freezing, moaning…you know…you’ve been there.
Anyway….one of the great moments in my life occurred at this point.My dad, who heard the cacophony of my arrival graciously allowed me to get to my bed unimpeded, offered a towel, leaned over to see my face and posed the greatest question he could have possibly asked me at this moment in my life,
“Are you having fun yet?”
This question has been a mantra for me ever since.I recite these words often when I’m doing something of my own choice that’s not at least rewarding in some way. Justin’s question brought my dad’s words to mind….as did this incident with the Missouri Highway Patrol after an afternoon with Schu at this most excellent place of ill repute in St Louis:
As I was explaining myself to Officer King I was certain the "single beer" Schu made me drink a couple hours before was going to come back to haunt me.Was there a way to get him in trouble instead of me?
Was I having fun yet?
This was about as far away from fun as I could imagine.I summoned all of my remaining brain power to negotiate myself out of a ticket and to indulge the officer as she asked questions about my car and what I was doing out there. I was completely drained as I navigated from the crime scene to Matt’s house to crash for the evening.As I was driving away I wondered…
Is it “fun” to do a road trip like this?
In a nutshell….it’s not really “fun” at this point of the trip….it’s more about seeing if I can do it without going to jail or losing my license/mind/car etc.The experience gained by surviving will manifest itself in all kinds of ways I can only speculate upon right now.Just as the experience of the day our lawnmower was killed shaped me today.All I know today is that I can’t wait to get to Baton Rouge where they (used to) have drive through frozen margarita bars for students, the weather is warm and where I’ll get to see some friends from college I’ve not seen in 20 years.
As a footnote to the story…
It turned out that I'd left my glasses in the mess on Bill’s folk’s carpet (I would later wonder how I drove home without glasses when that would not be possible even while sober?) which his parents confiscated until Bill was forced to fess up who it was that destroyed their house. Bill, apparently, told them "a homeless man must have broken in" which never ended up pointing back to me. Bill later went into his dad's drawer and retrieved my glasses.
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