I watched the races last weekend. Will they have them again this week? I
don't know about races at the Texas Motor Speedway but it seems to me that folks
who have to live over there in the Metroplex get in auto races every single day of
their lives. Whenever I go over there, may I say that when I HAVE to go over there,
I get psyched up for days in advance. First off I drag out the maps and study them
for unfamiliar routes, thus unfamiliar roads. I map out my trails, my turns, my
back flops, my ends. Then I decide when I will have to leave the house in order to
get to the scheduled place with only seconds to spare. Blissfully ignorant I hope to
find a parking place on the street and go into extreme withdrawal when it looks like
I will be forced to enter a parking garage and head up to the eighth floor.
My acrophobia starts acting up when I get on the second floor!
Last Monday Tom and I felt like we really and truly had to make a trip to
Dallas. We started out early. That was a good thing. All the way over to Interstate
30 I kept thinking about the race we had watched on television on Saturday and
Sunday. Shucks, folks over here just get ready for a race everyday, I thought.
When I lapped onto I-20, it was like the signal, "gentlemen, start your engines".
Although I had been driving the speed limit all the way from Granbury, once I
found my place on the freeway and headed out for Dallas, I found out that 70 miles
an hour is far too slow. I was hooking my Mercury on down the road at the limit
and all the time a fellow taking bites out of a ice cream cone, was stuck on my back
bumper in a red pickup truck.
I got it on up to 75 and finally shook the guy off but immediately a bearded
dude in a vintage Chevy took his place. I slid over into the next lane and let him
blow past but by then we had turned onto 35W and it was every man for himself. I
got over in the chicken lane and watched those dudes pass me by. Suddenly it was a
right turn onto I -30 and I was outa there.
But only for a few feet. Almost immediately we were in the worst of all
situations, auto gridlock. Big trucks in front of me. Big trucks behind me. Big
trucks to the right of me. All movement stopped, on the right side of the road, that
is. On the left, cars and trucks just whizzed along on their way from Dallas to Ft.
Worth. On our side, we just sat there with engines idling. Then we moved, just a
fraction of an inch, you understand, but we did move forward. Any movement at all
in a traffic jam is encouraging. So you take your foot off the brake and move
forward to the voice of Merle Haggard.
We inch forward mile after mile. Who told me to take I-30? I should have
gone down I- 20 to Dallas and cut across town to Hall. Too late now, just take the
ride and try not to get a headache.
Here we are at last, Roberts Building, Baylor Medical Center. Where can we
park? Luck for me, there's an empty space with a meter. Pull in. Park. Feed the
meter. Cross the street (extreme danger here). Escalator ride. Elevator ride. Walk,
walk, walk, down circular halls. Pass through two doors. There she is! She's seated
in a chair in front of a tray of food. Like feeding a child, I say, "open mouthy".
Her mouth opens and I spoon up macaroni and cheese, a piece of pork chop, some
stewed potatoes. "Drink your iced tea", I tell her. She sips from the straw. I scoop
up a spoon of pudding. "Eat this, it's good", I tell her. She looks me in the eye.
"Eat it yourself". Her words speak volumes.
And so together we play the game, each knowing how the end will be. She is
frail and unable to take care of herself any longer. Today they will move her to a
nursing facility across the street. She'll stay at this next stop until time runs out.
But just for today, we'll visit and pretend that there is no race going on out there,
yet in her eyes I see the real race, the one against time.
