Home » Uncategorized » My Car Smells Like My Dad, or Father-Son Road Trip Part II

My Car Smells Like My Dad, or Father-Son Road Trip Part II

13 February 2005

A charming detail about my father that I have become painfully aware of is that he doesn’t bathe. He doesn’t shower or brush his hair, or take his clothes off to sleep. Now my car vaguely smells like stale sweat of indeterminate age. Funky doesn’t begin to describe it.
However, I had a pretty good time on the trip, although the visit with my great-aunt Norma was brief. As it turns out, in true Archer fashion, my parents set up the visit a while ago and said the ’11th and 12th’, which was… Friday and Saturday. Friday night, my great-aunt had dinner set out on the table for us, waiting for our arrival… and of course we never came. Saturday she was prepared to make dinner for us, but called home and found my mother there, and discovered that my parents had said the wrong dates and times for our arrival. Because of the misunderstanding, Norma had scheduled all of her obligations for Sunday — today, and thus had to skip church in order to visit with us for a few hours. She had breakfast with us at Bob’s Big Boy, and did a lot of listening to me and my dad, and then talked a bit with me about a little family history. It turns out my great grandfather was in the calvary in Mexico during world war I, and she still has his horse blanket. My great-great grandfather was a ‘pugilist’, a minister, and fought in the Spanish-American war with Teddy Roosevelt. My great-great grandmother was related to Henry Ford, and loved to quilt. Oh, and my great-grandmother was a concert pianist. I’m sure there’s more details I heard, but what is most important is that I met my oldest living relative on my father’s side, and she’s totally cool, and she’s agreed to keep up a correspondence with me over email. I’ll find out all the little bits and pieces over time. And some time after Isaac is old enough to travel and it seems rational, I’ll take the family to visit her, maybe on a trip to Disneyland or something.
Also, the trip home was gorgeous. The high desert in San Bernadino is totally beautiful and alien. There were all these Joshua trees, and there was snow on the mountains and desert just below, and tons and tons of abandoned properties. I’m not sure why anyone lives out there, but it’s strangely alluring. Tons and tons of realtors, but who’s gonna buy desert property? I’m not really sure.
On the trip home I listened to ‘Against All Enemies’ again, but with my father. I think it opened his eyes a bit more to the lunacy which is the current administration. I’m now feeling totally exhausted from two days of driving, and an evening sleeping with my snoring father. I’m signing out for now, but I’ll drop you more details as the days go on.

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