My stomach began to turn as we continued on that winding stretch of the interstate on that hot, sweltering summer day in Texas.
My mother and I had managed to successfully snake around a giant bulk of the interstate system, thus circling the metropolis of Dallas for ten consecutive times.
“Just take the next exit so we can look at the map,” I begged, as Momma continued to grip the steering wheel.
This was before the day of GPS systems and little voices coming from your radio to give you directions. These were the days of foldable (that never folded back correctly) maps. It was the days of chicken-scratch markings on wrinkled maps to indicate points of interest. It was the days of coffee-stained visitor guides and painful paper cuts.
“I can’t even get to an exit,” Momma bellowed, turning down the radio. “People drive like maniacs around here. We’ve been stuck in this circle for two hours.”
Slipping on the headphones to my Walkman I decided to take a nap and hope for the best.
“Take those godforsaken things out of your ear,” Momma yelled, snatching my headphones out and possibly an ear drum as well. “Help me get out of this.”
Momma and I were trying to get to Las Vegas, the Hoover Dam and the Grand Canyon that summer. I had just earned my college degree in journalism, and Momma wanted to treat me to a fun trip out West before I began life in the real world.
Being a young, recent college graduate, I looked at the trip as a learning experience. I was on the search for the American Dream amidst the neon lights of Vegas, the concrete empire of Hoover Dam and the golden walls of the Grand Canyon. But....I was stuck in traffic in Dallas, Texas. This could very well be the end of my life-changing trip.
“Just take this exit,” I replied, pointing to the sign. “We’ll find a place to park, regroup and get on the right interstate.”
Momma agreed and almost took out three vehicles while playing Leap Frog on the interstate to get to the exit.
It was not the best neighborhood to “regroup.”
“Lock your doors,” Momma said, as I looked over the map. “We’re not from here.”
At first thinking Momma was being foolish, I began to look around our surroundings. Maybe Momma was right?
“Where did you take us,” I asked, staring at a plastic bag dancing in the wind in the parking lot that held an abandoned strip mall.
“I’m going back to the interstate,” Momma said, starting to panic.
“No, we need to figure out where we are going,” I said. “Otherwise, we are just gonna keep circling Dallas or head off in the wrong direction.”
But it was too late. Momma took to that pot-hole infested street like a race car driver.
Granted, it wasn’t the best neighborhood...but Momma was gaining more attention drag racing on those streets than anything else.
“OK,” I said, tracing my hand over the map. “There should be a road up here that will take us through some neighborhoods. But it will eventually lead to the interstate.”
Momma wasn’t listening. She was too busy biting her fingernails waiting at that red light.
Then she saw a moment. A police patrol unit pulled up next to her.
“Oh thank God,” Momma breathlessly muttered. “An officer.”
Momma tried to flag him. She hollered at his closed window. She honked her horn. It was no use.
“What are you doing,” I asked. “Just go this way, and we will get where we are going. Don’t bug the cop.”
Frustrated, Momma began to mumble some Irish words like a pub fighter in a fit of rage. Looking to make sure it was safe, she just gunned it on the gas.
“You just ran the red light right in front of a cop,” I said, trying to fold back the map.
“Pull me over,” Momma yelled out the window.
This had turned into a nightmare situation. My Momma had turned into a mad woman. Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was the hours trapped on the interstate. Maybe it was the panic from driving in a suspicious area.
But...she got what she wanted. We got pulled over. The officer was very nice and helpful. He didn’t give us a ticket. In fact, he led us to the interstate where we needed to go to continue our journey.
“Well, we survived that,” Momma said, pushing up her sunglasses. “Now...Vegas!!”
I crept down in my seat and put my headphones on. I wasn’t sure what the remainder of the journey would hold for us. And I wasn’t sure if Vegas could handle a Southern mother like mine.
But I grinned to myself as I dozed off in a cat nap.
“They better get ready,” I thought as a drifted off to sleep to the hum of the road.
