Peace, Driving and Kansas

Recently we crossed the 30,000 mile mark our trip odometer. Those miles have been over mountains, bridges, major city streets, brick, gravel and dirt roads and long stretches of freeway. Many of the miles have been easy to navigate, some of them have been rough, narrow or steep.
I like being in the mountains, the views are spectacular and the wildlife is plentiful. The air does seem crisper, and rivers more clear. I said I like being up in the mountains, but I did not say that I liked driving up into them our down from them. I get anxious when there is someone behind me pushing to get past on a narrow road, I get tired of using the turn outs to let people by, and I don't enjoy the smell of brake pads on the way down. That doesn't mean that I haven't enjoyed my time in the mountains. I will certainly drive them again.
This week, however, I have enjoyed the simple pleasure of cruising along the highways of Kansas. The wind seemed to blow almost without pause, the fields of grain rippled, and the Cruiser was a ship floating on a calm river.
Becky was engrossed in a book, the kids played games in the back and I was peacefully alone at the rudder.
Some people say there isn't anything to see in Kansas, but I disagree. There is always something to see, you just have to be open to what is there.

Man Week

As we sat in the parking lot of Sea-Tac airport, next to a sign that read "No Vehicles Over 25 Feet" (I guess I didn't learn my lesson in New Port) I looked at Carter and wondered what we would do next. Becky and Abby had just boarded a plane back to Ohio for Abby's school testing leaving us with a week to ourselves.
Since day one, when it came to planning our next step, Becky and I looked over the map and plotted the course. For the first time, it was completely up to me to choose the route. It was a strange, unfamiliar, but not altogether bad sensation. I asked Carter for input on a couple of choices, but since neither of them included McDonald's or water parks, he had little reaction.
I decided that since it was Man Week, it was important for us to see powerful waves on the coast, giant peaks, and large elk herds. It was also important that we see baseball. It seemed appropriate that I grow a beard.
Unfortunately, there isn't a Hooters at any of the National Parks that we visited, I think I'll write a congress person about that, but we managed to feel manly anyway.
We watched Ken Griffey Jr. at Safeco Field, circled the Olympic Peninsula, drove up into the snow at Mount Rainier, and studied the blast zone at Mt. St. Helens. And the whole time we ran. Carter wanted to race to everything, the RV, the next building, the sign over there, the play ground, and back to the RV. I don't know how many times we squared off, but I only won once.
Before Man Week whenever he hurt himself, he raced past me to be healed by mom. During Man Week, he had no choice, and trust me he looked. I think we learned from each other, he learned that I can help him when he gets hurt and I learned that he never gets tired of running. We ate a lot of chicken nuggets, and we played a lot of board games, and we found a new friendship.