Note to other Dad's. This is how you start a road trip. Did you know that ice cream is actually low on the glycemic index chart? That's right, no sugar spike and crash. Just lots of fat. But if you're
FOUR who cares?
And he chose the sorbet anyway. As you can see, he takes it very seriously.
This ice cream parlor was the first stop on the road trip a few weeks ago to Cali to see some family, some friends, and do some fantasy football drafting. Just me and Kahlil.
Why would I stop after barely an hour of driving for ice cream? Besides the fact that I'm one of those cool dads who indulges children's vices?
Well...
because some dude at the Rice Valley exit opened up his own little fair. I'm driving along, and I see these rides, and I'm like, there must have been a county fair. I see there's ice cream involved also, so I pull over. Inside the ice cream parlor, I learn from the guy who is scooping me the ice cream that this is his solo shot at a business. Just a single dude who bought all these rides, erected all of them himself, sells you the tickets, puts you in your seat, runs the ride, and is the self-same dude who scoops your ice cream. Seriously. One guy. He'd be like: I'll help with your ice cream in a moment sir, I need to let some people on to the Rocket.
We didn't go on the ferris wheel, but we want on two other rides -- one of the big spinning swing rides and a smaller caged wheel ride (Kahlil only).
And we went into the haunted house, built single-handedly by the Dude. All the rides looked new, so whether the Dude erected them by himself or by a team of roadies you'd never know. The haunted house on the other hand ... it was apparent there was no professional help. Strangely, it never occurred to me that it might not be appropriate for a three-year old. I thought it would be like the Disneyland haunted house, but it turned out to be more Texas-Chainsaw-Massacre-ish.
Kahlil bravely told me he wouldn't be afraid, but you walk into the thing and it's instantly dark enough that you can't see anything and this super-loud buzzer goes 'RRRGGGGG!!!!!!'. The highlight was part of a leg, from the shin down with bone and some blood sticking out the top, and hovering over it is this bloody machete that is rigged to a motor to constantly chop up and down. It's quite fake looking, but it is obviously a severed leg with a machete going chop-chop-chop. You can't make up any other story about it to the wide-eyed kid looking at it. By this time, I was trying to high-tail it out of there, but it's so black in places and that you literally can't see your hands in front of your face, and it's really confined like a single-file gangway.
The next hour in the car was something like this:
Daddy, why was the knife chopping on the foot?
Daddy, where was the person who should be on top of the leg?
Daddy, where was the hand that makes the knife go up and down?
So, fathers, I highly recommend the new haunted house at the Rice Valley exit!
Onward!
The next stop was a museum in Umpqua. It was hot, and we had an orange soda. This museum is small but pretty cool and pretty cheap. There is a little exhibit where there is a bunch of sand with fossils buried in it. There are field hats, brushes, and magnifying glasses for kids to use as they conduct some archeology.
There were also live snakes and a whole bunch of stuffed animals. Not like on-your-bed stuffed animals, but taxidermy.
Like this bear that Kahlil is Eskimo kissing. Lots and lots of stuffed animals, including several animals that Kahlil had seen alive just days ago at the High Desert Museum near Bend. Lots of questions about these animals, but I was happy to move past the foot. To be complete, I should also mention that this museum has some cool steam powered antiques. Large things like saws and tractors. And the lady working there was very nice.
We're still in the middle of Oregon, so we pressed on. On a lark, I cut over to the coast from Roseburg to Bandon. As Melville says: "Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bring up the rear of every funeral I meet...then I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can."
It was a pretty drive, and Bandon is a pretty place. I had brought Kahlil's bike, and he did some nice riding along the little boardwalk there. (Unfortunately, his bike tire had sprung a slow leak before we left home; so finding a pump was one of the recurring themes of the trip. Pretty sure he's riding on a flat here.)
The weather was great. I took deep, healing breaths and asked Kahlil if he liked the sea air. "No. It's stinky." Okay, it was fishy. Like Newport. In fact, we went down the little fishing pier and hung out briefly with the crabbers. I also had a very nice dinner at the Wheelhouse restaurant.
In growing darkness, we sojourned on down the coast road, the great stones in the frothy ocean gradually vanishing as we approached the California border. We stopped and slept in Brookings, the last town in Oregon.
The next day we entered surreal land of the redwoods. Like going to a different world, and it always reminds of me when I was a kid, because when I was in sixth grade my public school would send you to a weeklong camp called 'science camp'. The camp was somewhere in the forests near Santa Cruz, so it had the same mysterious and misty forerstland as the northern redwoods. That camp was my first real penetrating connection to nature. I didn't want to leave. So I always get nostalgic around redwood forests.
Kahlil and I threaded our way around Yurok Loop trail, which goes along the sea and back into the redwoods. The trail starts through this living tunnel -- how awesome is that?
But the best part was I made a connection to science camp on this little hike: we found a banana slug! A bright yellow one, too, like we found at science camp. The camp counselors encouraged us to put a banana slug in our mouth, and I'll never forget the girl who did it. She kept it in her mouth and started doing muscle flexing poses.
I wonder what she's doing now? I bet she's hot.
After this hike, it was already starting to get late, so we pushed on the Bay Area. It was a long drive, and the only eventful thing was a phone call from my niece Yvette. She called for some advice, the first time ever she'd done that. The advice was regarding a complex work-related thing, and we spoke for a long time. However, when she called I was starting to get sick. By the time my phone cut out on her on a mountain pass I was sweating profusely, doing that weird gaspy breathing you do when you're trying not to hurl, and sitting at the edge of my seat with my face as close as I get to the a/c vent and still see the traffic.
At the same time, I was using my iPhone to navigate. I learned, however, that the maps apparently don't update if you're talking on the phone. So I was ill, and also stressing that I was going to miss the freeway interchange I needed. Then her call cut out and I admit it: I didn't answer when she called back. I got the maps to load and just kept trying not to hurl. As it turned out, Yvette's dilemma worked out in her favor, no thanks to me. Kahlil was quietly watching the movie WALL-E this whole time.
I made it to Jess and Jessica's safely. They have high def TV and NFL ticket. And they had food and drink. And a bed. I could stay here.
They also have a kid. Kahlil and Eli hit it off immediately, and are seen here playing one of the many impromptu and indecipherable games they made up. Kahlil may have inspired Eli to do some bad things, or maybe just slovenly things. Jessica runs a tight ship. All in all, it was fantastic.
We took the kids to the Oakland zoo, so Kahlil could experience living animals again (as opposed to stuffed ones). We did some bike riding around the 'hood (inflated Kahlil's tire thanks to a neighbor), and Eli learned how to do some serious pedaling.
The next day was the Draft, but that's a blog for a different day (and for a different audience). All I will say is that through penetrating insight and Morgan Freeman-like wisdom, I drafted the best team. From Kahlil's perspective, it was a lot of running around the backyard where a bounce house thing was set up. He also got to meet another Cal Poly clan kid, Baxter Horne.
The draft completed, it was time to go back to the old hometown, Stockton. Here it needs to be said that Kahlil, out of the blue a couple months previous, started asking me (in an accusatory tone): "Daddy, when will I get to ride in a REAL boat?" So, I had arranged with my old friend Jeff, who has a ski boat, to take Kahlil for a ride out on the delta. And it was a ride!
Kahlil is riding in the front center of this gigantic tube. You'll have to believe me that he's smiling as he clings for dear life.
As you can see, he lived. His hair barely survived the experience. Not long after this, he fell stone cold asleep in the boat.
Many thanks to buddy Jeff and his woman Zoey for this outing, and for letting us crash at his place. Great fun.
That night, however, there was a little drama. Kahlil suddenly got homesick, which Larkin covered in an earlier post,
Will it be like this forever?
Not even super-fun stuff can make you forget Mommy.
And, finally, we make it to my own personal mommy. After all these years, she's still giving me the same look. What did I do
?
I was very happy to see how much Kahlil enjoyed hanging out with grandma. And it was okay the other way 'round, too.
Part of the purpose of my trip was to visit my sister, who is recovering from a car accident. So one day while I went to see her with my brother, and left Kahlil for some solo time with grandma.
My mom is just great with little kids. Now I know why I was such a sweet little boy. It was too bad we didn't have more time to spend with her, but we're hoping she can come up for Halloween. I think she should dress up as Zurg instead of me.
jh
This was too precious not to share right away. It is Kahlil's letter to Santa he dictated to me tonight. You know it's from him because he signed the page... you can just make out the letters of his name starting at the bottom and going up.
Word of advice: don't take your geeky teen son to your job as a computer mainframe operator in a hospital. I know your social security number and your medical history.
