"It's just too damn big..."

I remember my first cross-country trip with the family in tow. I knew setting out from one end of the country (California) and trying to drive all the way to the other end (Alabama) would, in the fewest words possible, try my patience. Not the least of my worries (in addition to the usual questions: "Will my car make it?", "What if we break down in the middle of nowhere?", and "What if I need to go the bathroom in the middle of nowhere and there isn't a rest area for another 50 miles!?") was knowing that I was going to attempt to do so as quickly as possible, and with two (at the time) very young children in the backseat. If memory serves, it wound up taking around 3 days -- Fontana, CA. to Phoenix, AZ. on Day 1, Phoenix to San Antonio, TX. on Day 2, and San Antonio to Dothan, AL. on Day 3 -- a trip of roughly 2,200 miles. I often look back in wonderment that we made it, to be frank; I felt like a zombie much of the time. And it didn't help matters that Stephanie was sitting in the back seat the entire trip (to tend to the boys). There was no-one in the front seat to poke or prod me should I fall asleep.

Whenever I travel, like a lot of others I'm sure, I tend to view trips (especially long ones in a car) in sections. In our case: Fontana to Phoenix, Phoenix to San Antonio, and San Antonio to Dothan. And of course, for the most part, those segments can be further broken into mini-segments, if you will; there is always plenty to see. While it doesn't really make the trip any shorter of course, it fools the mind into thinking it is so. And for the most part, it works like a charm. That is, of course, until you come to a place called Texas.

When it comes to Texas, I've never seen anything like it. I remember the nice long 4 hour drive it took to get from California to Arizona. Piece of cake. I remember the moderate 6-7 hour drive to get from Arizona to New Mexico. Doable. I remember the short and sweet 3 hour drive from New Mexico to Texas. Vunderbar! The 6 hour drive from Louisiana to Mississippi. The 3 hour drive from Mississippi to Alabama. You get the idea. Nothing, and I mean nothing, could have prepared me for Texas. The closest analogy I can think of is that this must have been what it felt like to be the Israelites, once they left Egypt, wandering the desert for 40 years. I believe they must actually have been in Texas, to be frank. Not even the desert around Mt. Sinai could possibly have been so bad. My time in Texas can be summed up in the two sentences that almost assuredly exit my mouth anytime I speak of my trip (and now trips) through this grand state:

• "I never did think I was going to get out of that place..."
• "It's just too damn big!"

And lest you think I jest, I present this evidence to you; when one enters the state of Texas on Interstate 10 from a westerly direction, you will hit three major cities in the state; El Paso, San Antonio and Houston. Nothing more, and nothing less. Here's the breakdown:

• El Paso to San Antonio: ~550 miles and 8.5 hours of driving
• San Antonio to Houston: ~200 miles and 3.5 hours of driving

And while we're at it, toss in for good measure these two:

• New Mexico Stateline to El Paso: ~a half hour
• Houston to Louisian Stateline: ~another 120 miles and 2 hours

So let's total this up; from the time you hit Texas from New Mexico it is roughly 900 miles and 14.5 hours of driving to make it from state to the next. See? Maybe I'm not so crazed. You literally go from saying "It's only another hour until we get to Arizona, New Mexico, etc." to saying "It's only another x-number of hours until we get OUT of Texas..." And lest you think it can't be that bad of a trip, I challenge you to look up Interstate 10 on Google Maps (here, I'll even include the link for you!). There's simply nothing out there for HUGE stretches of time. And what is there may remind you strongly of films you might have seen involving chainsaw-wielding maniacs. Anyone at all whom I may have regaled with the tale of my cross-country travels would undoubtedly be able to corroborate that I said pretty much everything I've said here, and maybe more.

I was reading an article about Nick Saban this morning (what else these days?) and came across a quote that got me thinking about this trip. He said, "The journey itself is important, not just the destination." And it really does sum me up pretty good. While it may be a lot of fun to crack wise about Texas (and how scared I am to go through there, how big it is, how it is its own country, etc.) that's really not what I remember most about the trips there, or any of my trips for that matter. (The irony that Alabama just defeated Texas for a title and that I'm quoting Nick Saban in an article heavily reliant on my time spent in Texas is not lost on me one iota). I'm an observer. My wife will tell you that I remember things that most people just pass off, and that the minutiae of things really are what matter to me. I like to soak it all in when I'm traveling. I tend to remember things like what restaurants were in what town, and where they were, so we can go again the next time we go through. What hotels are best, and so forth. You get the idea. Heck, we even remember some of the "wonderful" filling (gas) stations we stopped at deep in the heart of Texas. And by wonderful, I mean scary as hell (but wonderful now that we're nowhere near them).

So while my talk about my cross-country excursions will inevitably turn to Texas when I'm talking to others, when I remember the trip with my wife, it's completely different. I'll talk of the night we spent in Phoenix where Michael rolled off the bed at 3 in the morning and started screaming (we can all laugh about it now). I'll talk about that pigeon we crushed with our car while screaming down the Interstate in New Mexico (and how it was still sticking to the grille when we pulled up to the gas station on our way into Texas (a gas station we almost didn't make it to because I had miscalculated my gas mileage, but we don't talk about that)). We'll talk about "Goat-Cheese, New Mexico", an imaginary place loosely based Cochise, New Mexico, and how we need to get the wife's ears checked out.

And yes, we'll even talk about Texas. We'll talk about seeing those cows "doin' it" on the side of the road, and laugh until we're blue in the face. We'll talk about the humongous steak houses peppered across the landscape (many out in the middle of nowhere) with their very own slaughterhouses standing right beside them ("Come on, come all! Choose the cow YOU want on your plate!"). But we'll also talk about all those lightning blasts and thunder rolling over the mountains (God's creation) while we're out in the middle of nowhere, just trying to get to our next stop, and how gorgeous it is (and sounds!). And we always talk about our brief stop in Kerrville, Texas a few nights before Christmas, and how beautiful it looked, like something out of Norman Rockwell painting, and how (although we never will) nice it might be one day to return there, maybe for good (even though we know nothing about the place -- it's just one of those moments frozen in time). We don't, however, talk about Houston.

Sometimes I look in the mirror and wish that I wasn't so anal and obsessive about some things. But it's times like this when I'm reminded of what an integral part of my make-up that it is, and that it's out of that same vein that I'm able to "get more" out of my journeys than some people are (at least, that's what I'd like to believe). While I might be the first to piss and moan about how long the journey is taking, and how boring and arduous parts of it are, when it's all said and done, I'll tell you (and those who know me best will, as well) that contrary to how it may seem, I was in fact able to enjoy the journey. The "big" is made up of all sorts of "little" things that make it all worthwhile.

Sometimes, just sometimes, "It's just too damn big..." can be a really good thing.