The Albuquerque Trail-Day 1

Some would argue that a trip to Albuquerque takes 11-15 hours by car. Well when you go by way of V&RJ, a trip across west Texas can takes days. We believe MPH means “must peer here” or “many presents hollering”. If we didn’t stop at everything that called out to us we could never forgive ourselves for missing that lost special something. After all, as with every shopping adventure, we are only making ourselves available to the treasures that are desperately searching for us.


The trip starts out as an escape to the mountains of Jemez Springs, NM. We had been planning the trip for months and now it was finally here. Late September, early October is a beautiful time of year in the New Mexico Mountains. We scored a beautiful chalet overlooking a plunging bluff and could not wait to get there. Packed and ready to go, I load up Lucy, my 1988 red convertible BMW. I could just see us cruising , top down, the wind blowing through our hair; scarf’s trailing behind, as we sail across the west Texas plains-a total Thelma and Louise moment, without the drive over the cliffs edge ending of course.


However, we learn our chalet is a mile up a mountain with hair pin turns, steep grades and a strongly suggested tip of four wheel drive vehicle accessibility. So, as my bubble bursts, I pick up Ruby J and sadly we swapped out Lucy for the 4-wheel drive Chevy Avalanche. We make the transition of luggage, totes, goody and survival foods, and of course Tina Turner CD’s along with an array of other great artist to entertain us. Our excitement overtakes us as we make the transition, talking at the same time, doing the vacation tee tee dance, kissing loved ones goodbye and head for the open road.


Ruby J and I have a trip pledge. We can talk about family and work until we get out of the county, then it’s all about us. So as you can imagine we are talking 90 to nothing as we approach the county line. We can always pick up the same conversation, and we do, when we cross back over. For now, it’s splendid girl talk bliss. We talk about old friends, old times, and the here and now, and as always, the adventures our imagination takes us.

We stop in Wichita Falls, I can’t recall the attraction, but it’s still a good time to gas up. I’m fumbling with the massive cargo, enough for a year’s travel, nestled in the back seat when I notice something missing. At first I’m in disbelief, it’s here somewhere, has to be, must be, please tell me it’s here, where is it? Ruby J notices the commotion and attempts to soothe my fears by pulling everything out of the back seat. “Venus, it’s got to be here,” she reassures me. Once, twice, three times we go through the bags and luggage but it’s not here. Oh my God, my mind flashes forward, our Swiss chalet, girl week of pampering, wine drinking, massages, salt baths and desserts, and I left my luggage in the back of the convertible. Noooooo!

Because Ruby J is who she is, she holds back the obvious, “you’re a dumb ass,” but instead blames it on any and everything but me. Surely it must have been the force, fate, Feng Shui, karma, the gods, stars and even the luggage itself. “Damn luggage, you just can’t trust good luggage anymore.” Then as if finding the key to world peace, Ruby J quickly blurts out, “Venus you can wear anything I brought….oh look there’s Wal-Mart…anything except my underwear that is.” Still stunned, I gaze towards my future wardrobe and see fading visions of perfectly chosen outfits quickly replaced. I know this is how Goldie Hawn must have felt in the movie Overboard when she slides into an oversized housedress. Even though Kirk Russell tells her it’s her favorite she knows deep in her heart it’s just wrong.

Forever,
Venus