That’s a quote from Will Rogers, celebrated son of the state of Oklahoma.
My youngest daughter last spring break, at the state line.
Right now, my mind is on nothing else. With all of the stresses life has thrown at me, it’s time I get out of dodge and escape for a while.
It’s a trip I’ve made since before I can remember. My first memories of Oklahoma involve my first time flying. We boarded a TWA flight out of the old Indianapolis International Airport, with a connecting flight where we then boarded an Eastern Airlines flight. I don’t know where the connector was, but to this day there is no direct flight to Tulsa from Indianapolis. So I drive.
Depending on factors of children or others along on the trip, it typically takes between 8 and 12 hours. I know the route by heart, the road frees my spirit. It’s a big reason why I often considered being a truck driver when I was younger.
Don’t let the contrast fool you, this woman is a bodybuilder! I know her as my aunt.
I miss my aunts and uncles. They have a southern twang in their voice and hospitality in their hearts. My oldest cousin is having a birthday, he always looked up to my dad. I try my best to keep the traditions alive.
This is my American Gothic, and I cherish it tremendously.
One of my uncles will be receiving a gift of sorts too, the driver’s seat out of the Camaro. It is in need of repair, and he’s the man for all things upholstery in the area, and the only person I trust with such items. I’ll drive back sometime later to pick it up. I’ve done the drive in 48 hours before, I can do it again.
I think a week with these folks will do my heart and my mind well. The trappings of life have really gotten to me lately. Maybe this is why dad and I made so many trips when I was younger and he was my age?
For some reason, I’m feeling all nostalgic today. Reading a post on reddit reminded me of the second car I totaled. Today I will write about my first. You never forget your first.
I have to setup the scene of how we ended up with my first car however, as that is a story in itself.
It’s summer 1995. We (my mother, stepfather and I) had just moved to Main Street in Ellettsville, IN from our home on the south side of Bloomington. Rent was $150 less a month there, the area had less questionable activities happening around us. My stepfather wanted to take a vacation to the Smoky Mountains, so we did. It was a good vacation. It was the only “family” vacation I really remember.
My mom and I.My now ex-stepfather and I. I’ve only randomly ran into him twice since he split with my mom.Me on my new bike at our campsite. I still have that bike, and it’s still in like new shape.
It was a good vacation, and we all had a good time. There are memories from that trip that I’ll hold with me the rest of my life. What happened when we arrived home however, was frightening but gave me another memory. One that I’m writing about right now.
Where we had moved to was right behind Jack’s Defeat Creek, a defining feature of the town. While we were gone there was a massive storm. The creek swelled to levels I didn’t see until I was in my mid 20’s. We lived in a duplex, our neighbors car had been flooded to the roof line. The water didn’t recede for 2 days. He had changed the fluids and done what he could to dry it out, but the insurance company totaled it out. He offered it to us, since I was getting close to the age to legally drive. The price? $383. My stepfather bought it without hesitation.
The car was to serve as a backup vehicle for him and my mother until I got my drivers license, then it would be my car. But I had to work for that car, it wasn’t handed to me. It was my job to turn this flooded out car into a running, fully operational vehicle that anyone would be proud of, and I was totally up to the task. So I got to work.
The electronics were ruined in it due to the water. All of the interior soft components were also water logged. The first step was to remove the entire interior. On good days, I would take all of the items outside to bake in the sun. This car had an electronic dash, something many newer vehicles have but at the time this car was built it was fancy and special. I was able to get it dried out and work again, but the radio was a goner. This radio was interesting however. Due to the design of the dash, it was in two pieces. There was a control section and a tuner section. After scouring the local junkyards, I was able to find one and it worked!
Next up was the mechanical. The 2.5L “Iron Duke” engine in it was very sloppy. There was oil and coolant leaks all over. Once I got those under control, I replaced almost every electronic component under the hood. I then changed the brakes, wheel bearings and shocks.
By this time, all of the soft interior components in the car had dried out. I cleaned them profusely and reinstalled them. The car was for all purposes, done. I still didn’t have a license however, bummer.
Summer turned into fall, and fall turned into winter, then winter turned into spring. My home life had changed significantly. The parents of the household were having arguments and serious conversations revolving me and my father. My stepfather at one point said “Maybe we should stop letting Lee see his dad.” That was all I needed to hear. I thought for the first time in my life, my mother had built something not based on alcohol and drugs but on a family. I was only living with my mother because my stepmother “said I couldn’t live there anymore” according to my father.
I would be leaving, the only question was how, when and where. By this time I spent a lot of time on the internet. I spoke to a lot of people, primarily in the Oklahoma City, OK area. I had been talking to a couple of girls around my age that lived in Valparaiso, IN and Round Rock, TX however.
I eventually made a plan. I was to go see and possibly live with this girl in Round Rock, TX. I had never even been to Texas before. Bye bye Indiana, you’ve left me nothing but trauma and abuse. One night, I packed a large duffel bag with clothes and things I would need. I waited until 4 or 5 in the morning, and army crawled into my mom & stepfathers bedroom and took all of her money and the keys to the car. She had just gotten paid, so it was around $400. I pushed the car out of the driveway (it’s a small car) and down the street a ways before I started it. And I was gone.
My first stop was at the Pilot truck stop in Terre Haute, IN. It was my “last chance Texaco” opportunity to turn around and be able to make it seem like nothing happened. I filled up the gas tank, and headed down I-70.
I’ve traveled to Oklahoma since I was a baby. I know the route to many places by heart. GPS wasn’t available to citizens yet, but I did have a map in the car. Due to the lack of sleep, and adrenaline pumping through my veins, memories of much of the trip were not saved in the hard drive in my head. Not until I made it to Topeka, KS. I had made a mistake, that I do remember, and I decided to just keep going.
By this time, I had been driving for a long time and needed a break, some rest. I had talked with someone in Topeka over the internet, and she gave me her number. I stopped at a mall and called her, she gave me her address and I was on my way. I was a teenager at the time, so nefarious things were obviously on my mind – but what I really needed was rest. I arrived, and didn’t know how to act or react. Their home was filled with clutter and trash, literally. There were trash bags everywhere! I gave an excuse that I had to put some transmission fluid in my car and that I’d be back, never to return.
That’s when I got my map out, and I started looking. I want to go somewhere to rest. I can’t rent a hotel room, and I can’t get comfortable enough in the car really. What do I do? Maybe I can drive to my aunt Beth’s house? She my youngest aunt, and has always been a little on the wild side. Maybe she’ll give me a place to stay for the night while I’m on my way? So I found US 75. Wow, pure heaven that road is. I need to take it again sometime. It’s like route 66. It lead me to Tulsa, which led me to my aunts apartment, in the tiny town of Westville, OK.
When I got to Westville, I stopped at a gas station and paged my best friend, with the phone number to the pay phone I was at. He never called back, so I proceeded to my aunts place.
I got there, but she wasn’t home. I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t really know where my other two aunts lived at the time. My grandfather was in the area, but I didn’t know where he lived either. So I left a note on her door and sat in the parking lot, resting. After a while, she got home. I watched her read the note I left and go inside.
After a few minutes, I decided to knock on the door. Why was I so nervous? This is my aunt, a person who loves me. But I was rattled to my core. Did I make a wrong decision? She was on the phone with my dad. Gah, she ratted me out! My plan is ruined. He wanted to get me on a Greyhound and get me back to Indiana, and worry about the car later.
So she, I and her infant son Alex spent the evening catching up and I finally got some rest that I needed so badly. That was until the police department came knocking at her door in the middle of the night. She answered the door, and they asked for me. She woke me and I went to the door. In my mind, I figured the jig was up. They were going to arrest me. What they did still makes me wonder. They just asked for the keys and left when I gave them to them. It was years later when I found out what happened afterwards.
The rest of my time in Oklahoma during that occasion is something I would do again in a heartbeat however. I won’t go into detail about it in this post though.
My mom and stepfather apparently drove out and got the car while I was there, and left me. My mom then drove out again and got me. How she knew where my grandfather was living surprised me however. This was the straw that broke the camels back with the marriage of my mom and second stepfather. Shortly after my return, he moved out.
I finally get my drivers license, and I’m finally able to legally drive! Yes, we still have this car I stole and drove cross country without a license – and it’s MINE. I’m so excited.
Three days after receiving my drivers license. My best good friend Craig and I decide to go fishing at what’s called the Snake Pit, it’s the day after Thanksgiving. Being freshly licensed teenage males, we are driving aggressively and generally doing things we shouldn’t. That’s when I made a mistake, one I’ll never forget.
The road to the Snake Pit is gravel. It leads to a cove of the largest lake in Indiana, Lake Monroe. The road forks in one spot, with the left fork going in an upward direction. The right fork goes downwards towards the lake. Memories become hazy, but I swear the throttle became stuck. I was losing control and was panicking. I did my best to steer towards the left fork in the road, but the car went in the middle and flipped. In an unlikely turn of events I was actually wearing my seat belt that day, something I didn’t do back then.
I was hanging inside the car. My seat belt wouldn’t unbuckle. I had to get my pocket knife out and cut the seat belt to get out. It broke while doing so, swinging around and cutting my hand. I still carry a pocketknife to this day, just in case something like this happens again.
If you notice, I haven’t said much to describe the car up until now. This car was and is still a very rare car. Not an expensive or exotic one, just rare. It was the cousin of the Pontiac Grand Am. A 1987 Buick Somerset GS, Grey with a Grey vinyl top. Here are the only images I have of it. Taken from the lot it was towed to.
The shadow is highly representative of how my soul felt at the time.
Not all memories fade. Price does not equate happiness. The smallest things can fill the largest part of your heart. My aunts and I still joke about this, and they know I’ll forever trust them with my heart.
This is a bit out of order, forgive as there is just so much to catch up on.
The divorce didn’t leave me with much. I got lucky on several things except for my method of transportation. I was left with the car my now ex-wife had when I met her, a 2001 Kia Rio. I referred to it as the “Clown Car.” As there was literally no leg room in it in the back seats when I sat up front.
So I did what I had to do. I didn’t make enough money to afford anything. I was trying to save my house at the time. I took ownership of it, did some maintenance on it, tinted the windows as it was the hottest vehicle I’ve ever seen in my life.
That was until I took my daughters on a shopping spree for that Christmas following the divorce.
We were on our way back from Indianapolis, when suddenly smoke started filling the car. We suddenly had no heat. I knew any repairs to this car were going to be costly. The car was only worth about $1500 as it was.
Throughout the divorce process, I had been interviewing for the job I currently have. When this car broke down, I made enough to afford that car payment and extra cost for full coverage insurance. So I started thinking, just what do I want?
That’s when I came to the sad realization that manual transmissions aren’t something you can get easily in a lot of vehicles these days. It broke my heart. I wanted a manual transmission, as I’ve had several issues with automatics.
So it came down to the final 3. It would be either a Jeep Unlimited (4 doors), a Chevrolet Colorado (4 door) or a Chrysler 200.
I ended up just buying the first Jeep I saw. A 2010 Jeep Unlimited Sport. The first thing I did was jump in the back seat – to make sure my very important passenger would have enough room. This was critical to me. Boy did it.
Even though it was used, I still had to pay out the nose for it. My credit had been ruined by the ex-wife, so I had to pay an exorbitant interest rate and my monthly payments are almost as much as my mortgage payment.
But seeing the smile on that little girl’s face, makes it all worth it. Every single penny.
Two and a half years later, I’ve put over 40k miles on it. We’ve criss crossed the country. Going as far west as Yellowstone National Park, and as far north as North Dakota in it.
We had planned a getaway for Memorial day that was a little quirky and not like us. Little did we know that a tornado would get in the way. Due to said tornado, I had closed myself emotionally. While you could say I had a “good time.” I don’t have any emotions to go along with the trip, something I typically have. My wife wrote a blog post from her point of view, I highly recommend reading to see the contrast in our points of view.
We left as soon as we could on the Friday after the tornado and drove about halfway to our destination, St. Joseph / Benton Harbor Michigan. We stayed the night in Lafayette, leaving early so we could arrive at our destination early.
As soon as we arrived, we learned about these two cities the hard way. There seems to be a strong sense of division. While St. Joseph is a nice, quaint resort community, Benton Harbor shows all of the “what used to be” looks. There are many homes that used to be mansions, but are now dilapidated; some even boarded up. It’s downtown area almost looks like a ghost town from the 1950’s. There is some new growth, but it still feels like a ghetto.
The first thing we did was check into our hotel. It was a pretty funky Courtyard by Marriott. We decided to find something to eat, explore, and just relax that evening. The views from St. Joseph are absolutely amazing. It’s a great little resort community. The whole time I was contemplating about what was happening back home and trying to calm my nerves by smoking copious amounts of tobacco.
Sunday was a mixed bag of not great weather conditions, so the beach was not an option. After having the best breakfast I’ve ever had at any hotel, we headed for St. Joseph. Our first stop was downtown. They have a charming area filled with high fashion shops, and typical small town businesses. They have animal statues on just about every corner, decorated in many different ways. Taylor loved the “Cash Cow,” a cow covered with REAL money. It was of course in front of a bank. My fave was “Vincent Van Goat,” which had a depiction of “Starry Night” on one side and “Irises” on the other.
We then went to the most interesting pizza place I’ve ever been to. Silver Beach Pizza is a pizza place located within an Amtrak train station. I had an ice cold beer and a very good barbecue chicken pizza. It was most excellent!
We then went to the Curious Kids museum. It was fun for both the girls. Taylor enjoyed encapsulating herself in a bubble. Amelia enjoyed the water table, and acting OCD with random items. They’ve ran out of space in the converted brick house they are located in, so with the price of admission you can also access their addition, which is located next to the indoor carousel. We then went there. They have stuff even the adults can appreciate. They have a climbing wall, water tables galore, space items. It was quite fascinating and good stuff. We then went and had fun with the carousel. We were a bit nervous, as Amelia had never been on one before. She was a trooper, and had a blast. It was good family fun for all!
Amelia’s nap time was approaching, so we headed back to the hotel. Which was perfect timing, as a severe storm approached. After going through the tornado, this was the first time a storm actually scared me.
That night, we played in the pool – all of us. This hotel has a very interesting pool, it has an indoor and outdoor section; you can swim to either section through an opening in a glass wall. We then found an arcade was in a mall not too far away and decided to check it out. What we discovered was a mall that was essentially dead. There were no anchor stores at all. While there were interior stores, there weren’t that many. We played for an hour or so and then went back to the hotel.
The next morning, we stopped at beautiful Silver Beach. The difference between an ocean’s beach and a large lake’s beach is pure calm. It’s an amazing place, with an amazing view. The girls had fun, I put Amelia’s feet in the cold water and she didn’t want to leave! The sand was so fine and plush that we decided to bring home a bucket full. We all have glass jars of it to help remember the experience.
As fun end to our short trip, we stopped at Fair Oak’s Farm in northern Indiana. It’s a large dairy farm that gives tours and offers many learning opportunities for children about where our dairy products come from. We took a bus tour, which takes you through some of their barns to see how the cows live and what they eat. Amelia sat with me, and I told her that these are cows, they go “moo.” She started repeating me, it was adorable. We then saw their carousel milker. It’s an amazing machine that lets them produce vast quantities of moo juice.
We then went to the birthing barn, and witnessed the births of two calves. While I had seen this many times as a child, Rachel and Taylor had not. I think it was a good experience for both of them.
Next we stopped by the kids area, where Taylor got to do something she hadn’t done in a while, jumping on trampolines while attached to bungee cords.
We then visited the store, where I sampled some cheese. We bought some souvenirs for the girls and they had some ice cream.
I had just started to heal from this life changing event, and our vacation was over. Coming home was almost like a nightmare coming true. While it was nice to get away, the mental extremes that it forced me to go through were almost too much to handle.
While on our short vacation, my mind refused me the opportunity to forget about what was going on at home. Instead it kept thinking about that phrase that was etched into my mind that night. I kept running scenarios in my head about my girls; I didn’t like to, but I had to.
I felt bad for everyone who had been affected by this storm, especially the less fortunate ones who lived in that trailer court, right next door to me. They had lost everything, and probably didn’t have insurance. There were many children living there, so many that the schools had 2 buses come for pickup and drop off. We would see them all waiting for the bus in the mornings on our way to work. I still see their faces, and imagine what they must have went through on that eventful night.
I received two phone calls that Saturday while we were in Michigan, our power had been restored! It had been out for around 3 and 1/2 days. We don’t know how many utility poles had to be replaced in total, but it was a large number.
Since I had Internet access, I was always keeping up on the news. Our township trustee had organized a volunteer day, to help with tree & debris cleanup. This made all of us happy, and was the first step in putting my heart and soul to ease. In the end there were a total of 3 volunteer days, but the news that an IU student had disappeared shifted the focus, and the volunteers.
We returned from Michigan on Memorial day, and reality set in. While I had no damage to my home, we had lost about 10 trees; including our beloved apple tree. Many of these trees formed a ‘natural’ fence along my property line. They provided large amounts of shade and oxygen, they were also wrapped in vines. Anyone that knows me, knows that I’m a “jack of all trades.” I have had experience in cutting trees since I was about 12, when I helped my then step-dad do just that for a living.
We had already lost our weeping willow tree and a maple tree due to wind and ice storms that occurred earlier in the year, we purchased a chain saw so I could clean them up; I was prepared. Little did I know how difficult the task would be when vines were involved. This was a task I couldn’t handle, this task needed a quantity of experience people.
We decided to get estimates from tree-trimming businesses. I called around 5 companies, only one showed up and gave me an estimate. It was more expensive than we wanted to pay, and under our homeowners insurance deductible. I wasn’t going to feel at ease until this was taken care of; I was literally stuck between a bunch of trees and a hard place.
I turned to our township trustee’s office. I called them and asked for assistance, but let them know that I should be placed on the bottom of their list. I let them know that it was simply downed trees that needed to be cleaned up, there was no damage to my home and that it shouldn’t be a priority. While we could have paid for the cleanup; it would have presented a financial burden that we might have not recovered from.
A few days go by and as I arrived home from class an Mennonite looking fellow was at my house. He said he was surveying what needed to be done; he was assembling a crew. The next day when I arrived home, the trees were almost cleaned up! It was a group of boys and a man. At the time I presumed they were Mennonite, since they used technology. It turns out I was wrong; it was the Worthington Amish Youth Group. I thanked each one of them personally, and asked if they needed anything at all. They requested some water, which I promptly fetched and then they went about their business.
With all the property damage and the trailer court in ruins, I was blown away that they decided to help ME. My whole family is in their debt and are working on a way to pay it forward and show them how much we appreciate what they’ve done for us.
After they finished cleaning up the trees, a larger group, including women went over to the trailer court and assisted cleanup.
The effects of this tornado will be felt and seen for many years to come. Not just from the people (like me) who live where it happened, but by the thousands of travellers that take that section of Highway 45. I went through many years of emotional issues as a child, which I thought had toughened me mentally. I learned the hard way that I was wrong.
While we are mainly healed from this event, our souls will never forget it. That storm took something from me. Even though I don’t exactly know what “it” is, I feel incomplete inside. I don’t know how to move on from this experience. Writing this has certainly helped.
It was an amazing trip. Rachel and I have both came to the conclusions that the stigmas regarding New York from the “old days” are still around, at least where we live. We felt safe at all times, and only saw a handful of homeless. I saw many people out trying to help the homeless. They seem to have people on every block asking for donations.
The first day we arrived late in the day due to plane delays, so we just walked around a little bit and ate dinner. Our hotel, the Marriott Marquis is located right in the heart of Times Square. We could see a sliver of the new years ball from our hotel room.
Enjoy the slideshow containing all of our pictures from the trip!
I am currently in NYC with my wife who has a conference with NAGAP. While she’s busy, I’m at play exploring Manhattan. I’m taking many pictures and will write a blog explaining my adventures.
While in Oklahoma visiting my aunts, I went to look at an old radio that was my grandfather’s. My aunt Laura has it in a storage trailer of hers, and said that I could have it. While we did not have space for it to bring it back with us, I will make a trip to pick it up soon.
The trailer was very high off the ground, about 6 feet to be exact. They had a pallet sitting on it’s side to climb up into it, and at the time I didn’t feel sure about climbing down it, so I jumped. BIG MISTAKE! I just found out today that I “might” have broken my right tibia. The x-ray was inconclusive to a doctor and the x-ray tech. They sent it off to a radiologist so I should find out tomorrow.
But I got these beautiful, incredible pictures of an item that is worth it’s weight in gold to me.
Many people may see those pictures and just see an old radio, I see something much different.
My grandfather was a radio & TV repairman for most of his professional career. He was the ONLY one in Adair county, Oklahoma. While in the navy during WWII, he installed radar systems on the pacific fleet. This radio represents what my grandpa was, and what he loved. He was always into “new technology” just as I am. I think I get most of my curiosity about this from him.
He was the only grandfather I really knew, and I still miss him to this day. I was given his truck when I was 19, due to my epilepsy and age it was wrecked. I spent every dime I had to try to fix it, but could not. This item will not be treated with the same reckless abandon.
Wednesday, all of us (Me, Rachel, Taylor and Dad) are embarking on a journey I have made many times in my life. We are going to a little bump in the road where my 3 aunts and 2 cousins live in Oklahoma. The trip is somewhat less exciting as it used to be, as there is no Speed Trap in Watts anymore. I might get my aunt Beth to talk on camera about how that Speed Trap became history, as she was involved in it.
The total trip is roughly 700 miles, and can be done in as little as 8 hours.
All of us have never made this trip together, so it’s going to be very, very interesting.
It used to be all about how fast I could make it there, but as I’ve aged, I’ve wanted to see things along the way.
The reason for this trip? My aunt Beth is having a “family reunion” of sorts for the 4th of July. We are going to stay at her house, which could double as a B&B.
I also have a delivery to make, as my aunt Laura sent me 13 8-tracks and 2 cassette tapes that she wanted transferred to CD. The 8-tracks were a disaster, but I hope she still loves me.
I hope that someday, they can make the trip here. It would be great to show them around for a change. I’m hoping that perhaps next summer one of my cousins can come out for a week or two. I would love it.
It’s been 2 years since we’ve made the trek, and I must say I’ve missed my aunts. Their southern hospitality is something that is not found ’round these parts.
It’s been an extremely long time since I’ve posted, and there’s a very good reason why. I haven’t had much free time at all lately.
I took on a paper route, then after getting the kinks out and finally getting it down pat I started a new job as a Handyman for Morgenstern Home Services.
Between the two, I barely had time to sleep, let alone all the other responsibilities I have.
I’m currently in Chicago, IL. Rachel has a conference tomorrow, and we used it as a reason to get away for a few days.
We’re staying at the Club Quarters Hotel located in the Mather Tower. It’s the first time I’ve ever stayed in Chicago, and I must say I am enjoying it!
This break has given me an opportunity to find a replacement for the paper route. She called me tonight asking about inserts for the Sunday paper. I no longer have to worry about that 7 day a week commitment.
Now I have time to concentrate on various projects, such as our upcoming trip to Oklahoma to see my aunts.
