Road Tripping!

INGRID THOFT

In a few weeks, I'm packing up the car and going on a road trip.  Despite seeming like the quintessential American activity, the first recorded road trip was by Bertha Benz, wife of Karl Benz (yes, that Benz) in Germany in 1888.  The vastness of the U.S., however, lends itself to road trips, and I've had the pleasure of embarking on many during my life.

 The upcoming trip is with one of my favorite travel companions, my mom, and we're doing a quick four-night loop from Seattle to the Oregon coast and Portland and than back to Seattle.  She's not seen the stunning vistas of Cannon Beach and Haystack Rock, nor have either of us spent much time in Portland.

When booking the Portland hotel the primary requirement was proximity to Powell's bookstore.  What more do you need?  Doughnuts, according to my friend, who says I can't miss Voodoo Doughnuts, conveniently located close to Powell's.  The Dirty Old Bastard doughnut, which features chocolate frosting, Oreo cookies, and peanut butter does look enticing!

My mom and my family were my travel companions on a most memorable Thoft family road trip.  When we were young, my parents found the energy (I don't know how) to take us to the national parks during summer vacations, and one year, we were driving through Yosemite National Park when the engine emitted a deep rumble.  We pulled over, and the seven of us (my grandmother, Nanny, was with us) piled out of the car.

My parents checked out the situation under the hood, but the car wasn't going anywhere.  Luckily, a couple of hippies pulled over in their VW bus (this was the 70's) and offered us a ride.  We climbed into the bus, with it's distinctively grinding engine sound, and they deposited us at the park entrance.  This was before the days of roadside service; no one was coming with a replacement car.

Fish Camp: Okay, I'm exaggerating, but not much!

We couldn't find transportation back to our hotel, which was a few hours away.  My parents sought alternative accommodations, but it was high season, and the pickings were slim.  They finally found two rooms at Fish Camp, and yes, that's what it was.  Two rooms and single bar of soap were shared among the seven of us as we prepped for dinner at a local haunt.  Midway through the meal, my father left to accompany the tow truck driver to the garage to deposit our rental car.  The trip would have been uneventful, but the driver was drunk and took my father on quite a ride.  Apparently, the drive was like Mr. Toad's Wild Ride, and my dad held on for dear life as they sped along and weaved through the twisty roads near Yosemite.

After a fitful night at Fish Camp, we put our pants back on—getting ready for bed had entailed a wash with the bar of soap and the removal of our pants—and claimed the repaired car.  Like most road trip crises, Fish Camp made for a good story and lives on in Thoft family lore.  I hope that my trip to Oregon is less eventful, but that's part of the fun of a road trip:  You never know what might happen!

Have you taken a memorable road trip?  Is there a road trip on your bucket list?

Rhys has a little Rant!

RHYS BOWEN: Okay sorry but this is going to be a minor rant.

I’ve just returned from a few book events around the country and something annoying happened to me on a regular basis: an agent at the airport or rental car center or hotel would look at me, then the man standing ahead or behind me and ask, “Are you together?”  When I go into an upscale restaurant I’ve been asked, “Are you waiting for someone?”  As if shocked that a woman of a certain age should dare to eat alone.

I bet.a man standing in line has NEVER been asked “are you together” indicating a lady standing behind him. I was once standing in line for a rental car. Although an agent appeared to be free I was not called forward. Eventually I asked if the agent wasn't free. "Oh, I thought you'd be with that gentleman," he replied. It never crossed his mind that I was alone, and was going to have the audacity to take a car out, by myself.

(And in case you think I look like a little old lady when I travel, here are some recent pix. With me in the fur coat is Robin Burcell)

As I’ve been watching the election and the Olympics and being bombarded with sexual stereotyping (Hilary raises her voice and she’s screeching. A male raises his voice and he’s being assertive). Female athletes have their appearance commented on all the time.. Do you ever hear the commentator say of a male volleyball player,  “He’s looking hunky today?” And what about the one athlete whose headline read “Wife of Chicago Bulls Player wins gold.” Never mentioning her name or her sport.

Well, I’ve decided not to take it any more. Each time I was asked if I was with someone I’ve replied, “ Is it now against the law for a woman over fifty to travel alone?”

And when they ask in that restaurant if I’m waiting for someone I reply, “Only if I get lucky” 

And I’ve found a way to make sure I get good service after that. I never take the first table I am offered, especially if it’s near the rear or the kitchen. I say “I prefer to sit over here, thank you” and walk over to the nicest table. And as soon as I sit I say “I’m on business and I don’t have long. Please send over the somelier with your wine list” and I order something unpronounceable (or at least something that I can pronounce and most people can’t). Then the word goes out that I might be difficult and the service is excellent!

So let’s take a stand, dear Reds of a certain age. Let them know that just because we are older women we do not sit at home crocheting, or go out playing bingo. And we don’t need a man to travel with!

Do share your stories! Have you experienced the same kind of put downs?

At least we writers have one secret weapon. When someone particularly annoys me I take a good look at them and think, "Careful or you'll wind up dead in my next book!"