Riding Off Into the Sunset

(aka Driving off into the Sunset in a pickup truck with a U-Haul trailer)

Sooo, I just booked a one-way ticket to Houston for next weekend. It’s time to offer up an official goodbye to Houston, pack the last of the family belongings, lock the front door one last time, and drive off west with my dad. Yes, with my dad - just me and my dad.

This is going to be awk...wait for it...ward. I will not project or place expectations on the conversation but here is what might be covered before we hit the on ramp to I-45: Republican v Democrat. Old School v New School. Wal*Mart Atlas v iPhone Google Maps. Need I go on?

With that being said, I have great apprehension about this trip. I’m nervous. I’m anxious. I'm waxing nostalgic. Don't get me wrong, this won’t be my last trek to Texas but it will be my last time going “home” to my parent’s house. Houston has a special place in my life. It is where I became an adult and headed on the path to where I am today.

It’s where I
-started and then ditched the life of an oil man
-spent five years as a YMCA youth counselor and drove the short bus
-declined UT and Texas A&M so I could go to the University of Houston and experience true diversity
-was introduced to live, local music
-learned the joys of an inter-continental airport and a passport
-learned how to demo and drywall flooded homes
-learned to say Ma’am and Sir with a wink and a sincere smile
-learned that sometimes it’s worth the 35-mile drive for good food
-became a professional commuter and experienced ‘real’ traffic
-became a fan of summer rainstorms
-found great friends that got me through my 20’s
-said goodbye to my dog Sadie

It’s where I will always feel at home.

It’s like when I go back home to San Diego but different. San Diego is filled with childhood memories. Houston is where I became an adult. I can still remember my first flight into IAH with my family looking for a house. It was so flat and there were so many trees. It's funny that I found direction for my life in a place that I needed a map and compass to navigate for the first year I lived there.

I will always be grateful that my parents picked up and moved from San Diego (on my birthday) back in 1997. It forced me out of my comfort zone and started a chain of events that has made me the person that is sitting here typing this post.

Chances are this trip will be one for the record books. Spending 4 days with my dad driving across the Southwest will more than likely make it into my memoires as a full chapter. That is if we don’t kill each other by reaching the city limits. I am too afraid to hitchhike through western Texas so I won’t bail out of the truck until I know I can make it home safely (I should have never seen the Texas Chainsaw Massacre). I can’t eject myself from the truck in New Mexico for obvious reasons (skin walkers and new age healers) so I will sit tight until we at least reach rural Arizona (yeah polygimists). If the universe allows me to make it to Southern Utah and I see familiar landmarks I have no fear jumping from the truck at speeds of 35MPH (roll when you hit the ground, just like Chuck Norris says, right?). If you happen to get a phone call from me around November 18th please pick up. I’m probably at the Greyhound station avoiding Large Marge and Pee Wee Herman. I might need you to wire me money, then again I might be desperate enought to part with my iPod or MacBook in exchange for bus fare. So when that phone of yours rings please pick up, please, please pick up.

As a complete side note:

For those that have ever been to Chuy’s (down off Kirby and Westheimer) know that I will still make an annual pilgrimage back to the Lonestar state so I can order a chicken Chuychanga with creamy jalapeno ranch sauce. If I can pack in a trip to Berry Hill’s for some fish taco’s that would be icing on the cake (but that cake would really need to be a slice of chocolate from Benji’s). Oh and then there’s a side trip to Niko Niko’s for a spinach pita and then a hop over to Rice Village for some Thai. I could go for some BBQ at County Line or stale cookies from the crazy Panaderia near Hopper Road. Maybe a few tortilla’s from H.E.B. for homemade fajita’s. Don't forget there is always room for a late night trip to the House of Pies for some chocolate silk and never, ever forget that when all else fails…Kat’z nev-uh closez! Who has the Tum-tum-tum-tum-Tums?! Better yet, who wants to go?