Somewhere in Monument Valley |
Jerry and I took our first road trip together
in November of 2007. He’d been forced by emergency surgery to miss the previous
year’s AYE conference, and I went to visit him for a few days in March 2007
while he was still recovering. Though he’d been writing fiction, it was harder
for him than non-fiction, and Jerry was taking a break from it.
We spent the week as writing buddies. Jerry
was writing “Perfect Software” and I was working on a long piece about
end-to-end system integration testing. We’d write each morning in our
respective solitudes, have lunch together at the Weinberg house, then read,
review and discuss each other’s work in the afternoon. In late afternoon we’d
go to wonderful places, like the Bosque Wildlife Reserve, or the Rattlesnake
Museum. And we played with the dogs.
By then we knew each other pretty well.
We’d met at PSL in 2001 and at AYE conferences from 2003, and I’d been in the
SHAPE Forum and his Consulting Skills workshop. Jerry had mentored me through
the whitewater rapids of my work on several troubled projects, and we had an
extensive email correspondence covering a vast range of topics. He’d reviewed
article drafts for me, and I’d reviewed drafts of his first novel and some of his other fiction.
At the end of the visit, I made Jerry an
offer. I knew he had always driven to Phoenix for AYE and would be determined
to drive as usual that November. After what he’d been through, I was worried
about him doing that drive alone, and I suspected Dani would also be concerned.
We’d had an easy companionship over the course of my visit and we’d never
stopped talking. I thought Jerry and I could enjoy a road trip together, so I
offered to drive with him to the next AYE. Knowing Jerry, I put it on a
business basis: suggesting that I’d do the drive in exchange for payment of my
expenses on the way. “Humph”, said Jerry. “We’ll see”. I flew home; we emailed
as usual, and continued reviewing.
Next thing I knew, it was a done deal. Not
only were we doing the drive together, but Jerry suggested that we should make
a little vacation of it. Instead of driving the 400 miles in a day, we’d
explore some of the glories of the Southwest, taking 4 days to get to Phoenix
and 4 days back by a different route. He started planning a tour.
I hadn’t driven a car with a manual shift
in years, so I took a couple of lessons to brush up. We exchanged emails about
what music we’d listen to in the car and I pulled together a batch of CDs.
We never listened to a single one. What do
you think happens when you put two people-who-never-shut-up in a car together for
days on end? We talked endlessly. About everything.
We shared a love of road trips and of
driving, of dogs, of Baroque music and Mozart, of natural wonders and of native
ruins. We both liked back roads and country diners and trading posts. We had a
similar (okay, sometimes awful) sense of humour. Our driving styles were compatible—fast,
but not outrageously so. It was the first major outing for Jerry's new Jeep (and I got chocolate on the passenger seat). At first, Jerry wanted to do most of the driving, but he
gradually relinquished control and l drove more and more.
Sometimes we played word games or sang
silly songs neither of us really knew the words to:
Oh,
we ain't got a barrel of money
Maybe we're ragged and funny
But we’re ridin’ along, singin’ a song
Maybe we're ragged and funny
But we’re ridin’ along, singin’ a song
Side
by side
-->Off-road on the Mogollon Rim |
Evenings were for quiet time. We’d have an early dinner, then retire to our respective motel rooms for some much-needed solitude, emails and other introverted computer stuff.
Did I mention that we had a lot of fun?
It was a pattern we were to repeat, with variations, for 3 more road trips to AYE. (But I never again bothered to bring CDs.)
Jerry climbed steadily straight up that stair. I had to take a breather. |
Reading tourist info aloud at Chaco Canyon |
To be continued.
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