A hot car + pool cue + nothing better to do = Road Trip! A driving adventure on twisty beach and mountain roads. A pool-shooting journey of discovery. The car: new 2006 Corvette convertible. The driver: Mike McCafferty ("Fast Mikie") The roads: From San Diego to Canada, along legendary coastal Highway 1, and then taking the long way home with a pool-shooting tour of 11 western states. What could go wrong, right?
Day 51: Santa Fe, NM
If ever I needed a change of scenery, it is now.
Denver is a great pool town, but it's getting old.
I forget how long I've been here;
the days have all blended together into one too-long blur.
I crammed the Corvette with all my stuff,
which by now seems to be a lot more than I started with,
and slipped it into gear, only to realize that
I had no idea where I was going next!
So I entered a few places into the navigation system,
just to see how far away they were,
and if I could make it in a reasonable drive-time.
I wanted to go to Durango, CO but it was too far (8 hours).
Santa Fe, New Mexico was the better choice because it
showed up as only 5+ hours, and better yet,
it was a whole new state!
I need a new state.
It was a great ride, especially getting to
the far south end of Colorado,
and climbing up into the mountains into New Mexico,
then into some magnificent wide open spaces.
For the entire drive, the horizon was filled with
huge thunderstorms, punctuated with flashes of lightning,
fingers of fire from an angry god.
Intermittent rain, some light, some very heavy,
but always brief and unexpected.
In one instance, I could see in the roadway,
just about a hundred yards ahead,
an extremely heavy rainshower, but it was only
about 10 yards in size, and on all sides of it
there was clear road!
I have always been fascinated with weather, in all forms.
New Mexico is truly the Land of Enchantment.
The geography is spectacular, with huge mesas
and rock formations and mountains, all separated
by such vast expanses of nothing at all.
I found myself driving for more than an hour
and the horizon had not changed a bit,
as if I were on some slow-motion treadmill.
I had never been to Santa Fe before,
but from what I have heard of it,
I always wanted to check it out.
My first impression of the place was
unfavorably tainted by frustration in finding
the hotel because my navigation system
insisted in having me drive the wrong way
down a one-way street and no matter how
I tried to come at the place from a different
angle, there was just no reasoning with the computer.
The solution was to push the OnStar button,
and an assitant pinpointed my location immediately
and gave me turn-by-turn realtime instructions
to come at the destination from the
other end of the city. Success!
First impressions of the place were that the place
is filled to capacity with tourists who seem
to have bags full of money and little imagination
on how to spend it...
Santa Fe is a town of small shops selling all sort
of native jewelry, art, pottery, clothing,
and just plain stuff; all greatly overpriced.
The singular attraction which draws the tourists
is that Santa Fe happens to be high in the mountains
and therefore much cooler than any place for
hundreds of miles in any direction.
And in August in the southwest, that is Huge!
The bellman who assisted with my luggage
noticed my cue case and identified himself as
a pool player, saying he shoots with a Meucci
and a Pechauer, but he had never heard of Samsara,
the maker of my playing cue.
He told me about the only place in town
with decent tables, and I went to check it out
but it was completely dead at 10pm,
although the tables were in good condition
and recently recovered in what looked like
the new IPT cloth.
I was just too exhausted to practice,
so I left with the intention to return the next day,
went back to the hotel, and crashed,
drifting off to sleep with thoughts of
the intriguingly cute Amanda, the front desk clerk,
who reminded me of the line from an old song:
"You don't have such a beautiful face, but ba-by,
you got what it takes for me!"
In the morning, as I delivered my laundry to the
front desk, half expecting to see Amanda again,
I was floored by a spectacular, tall redheaded beauty,
to whom, when she asked if she could help me,
I could only stammer a few unintelligible words
as I handed over my bag of used knickers and t-shirts.
This is a signal that I have been on the road way too long.
My condition is now elevated to "Critically Vulnerable".
When random hotel clerks can get me acting silly
and thinking thoughts which can only lead to
a complete and utter destruction of life as I know it,
well, it is time to seek the safe harbor of Mikie's Fun House.
Hermits should not be allowed away from their caves
for extended periods.
I need to be reminded that for every completely
amazingly beautiful spectacular and magnetically
attractive female in existence, there is most likely
some guy who is totally at wits end having to put
up with her, or who has just booted her out.
This is the great Circle of Life, a viscious circle
if ever there was one, and one which is addictive.
It is only by great focus and will that one can
break free of it, but like alcoholics and gamblers,
no person is ever cured, we just live one day at a time.
While I have never had alcoholism or gambling
addictions, I have suffered greatly with my fascination
for extraordinarily attractive females, the cure for which,
as I have found, is the complete withdrawl from public
places where such potential disasters seem to lurk.
Sex is a Madness, to which we give ourselves willingly,
and delude ourselves with the rationalization that it is Love,
the kind of Romantic Love which is the stuff of poets and Madison Avenue.
We have been brainwashed since birth with this delusion
which must be followed, lemming-like, by the masses,
if only to guarantee the survival of our species.
I can not expect you, dear reader, to understand this,
but I can only assure you that since I have adjusted my life
to conform to these principles I have found a peace
and harmony in my life as I have never previously known.
I have come to describe it as the Sweet Serenity of Solitude.
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