Part Two: Vacationing in the Heartland

It was a bright and sunny moringing in Ozark, AR as we pulled into your average “stop-and-rob” convenience place. It was replete with an abundance of things to eat and drink and even had a “two-holer” restroom (even in Arkansas! How about that?!).

As I was pumping gas and slurping a Diet Pepsi, sharp-eyed Connie managed to catch a glimpse of a low-flying biplane as it swooped in for a landing at the nearby airport. She was quite certain that it was a noteworthy aircraft. We immediately pursued the matter and quickly found our way to the small airstrip less than a mile away.

On the tarmac sat a gorgeous Boeing/Stearman A75N1 (PT17) biplane. Connie nailed that one dead on. I was ready to give her a promotion for her outstanding observation abilities but was fresh out of medals and bars so I gave her a hug. That seemed to work for her. I almost broke a toe bailing out of the Toyota to get to the plane and its pilot. The G-forces on my camera must have been tremendous.

In only a moment we could tell that this was no ordinary Stearman and that the pilot was no ordinary pilot. The paint job was the first clue. Though the wings and tail feathers were decidedly WW2 military yellow, the fuselage was not. It was white with a (somewhat) modern stripe on its side. Likewise, the wheel covers were checkerboard and not plain. On the side was a clue as to why things were different. The sign on the side said: “The Stearman has flown to every U.S. state and Canadian Province in North America”. That adds up to “special” to in my book!

The pilot was Alan Lorenzo of Princeton, NJ who was flying the plane to Florida from a recent engine overhaul in Denver. He had stopped at the small out-of-the-way airport for fuel. As it turned out, they had no fuel until the next day so Mr. Lorenzo had to make other plans. Clarksville, AR is only 35 mi. east of Ozark and has an airport so I suspect he flew there. He was kind enough to give us one of his brochures about his travels. Connie related to him that her father, Ernest Freeman, and his friend flew a Stearman from Florida to California in 1962. I tried to hide the green of envy that was slowing strangling my face.

After snapping a dozen and a half pictures, we piled back into the Camry and boogied out for Memphis. It was a good day on I-40 in Arkansas.

The next big city we encountered was Little Rock. Little Rock sits approximately midway between Ft. Smith and Memphis and is the capitol of Arkansas. It must have been a nice unremarkable day in Little Rock when we passed through because I hardly noticed it. I really don’t recall even taking any pictures and don’t remember anything particular about it. How interesting. I may still have been in Vian or Tulsa.

The large bridge that spans the Mississippi River from Arkansas to Tennessee loomed before us by mid-afternoon. It was quite the deal to look down on river traffic and then over to see the 32 story stainless steel Memphis Pyramid that greets all eastbound travelers. Although it isn’t readily apparent, The Pyramid Arena is the third largest pyramid in the world and is actually taller than the Statue of Liberty.

There is a lot to see in Memphis but we were there to see Connie’s brother, Steve, and his wife, Paulette. Perhaps we can check out the rest of the real estate at some future time. This was the first time she had the opportunity to visit Steve since they moved to Memphis some 15 years or so ago. So, visiting was the more important matter, to be sure. The next day we did swing by Graceland which is near Memphis International where Steve is a FedEx pilot. Truthfully, neither of us are big Elvis fans so it was sufficient to just lay an eyeball on the place. I had already been to Beale Street a few years ago and Connie was unfamiliar with it in the first place. So, we really didn't miss all that much that I could tell.

Steve guided us to his place via the cell phone. He lives in an awesome suburb about 15 min. or so out of Memphis. It was little wonder that they like it back there. The fall coloration of the trees and such was spectacular (and you know who took a ton of pictures).

“Visiting”, as far as I’m concerned, means food as well as fellowship. Amazingly, the folks in Tennessee also think that way. We certainly had a grand time visiting but we certainly ate well too. Paulette must have picked up some pointers back there on how to stuff friends and relatives. She prepared a king’s repast for us for dinner that night and then breakfast the next day.

For lunch, Steve hauled us to a “Carlton’s Restaurant” where we quickly discovered why it’s one of his favorite eateries. There was no way I was going to the Midwest and not eat catfish; it wasn’t going to happen. Soooo….that’s what I ordered. Lo and behold if it wasn’t the best catfish I’ve ever eaten (and I’ve eaten a lot of catfish in my time!)! Had I not been making so much noise eating and flinging my fork so hard, I probably would have noticed what Connie and Steve were eating. However, I don’t recall. Anyway, I now had enough fuel stored to attempt the next leg of our (local) trek. That would be the airport, of course.

Since Steve owns a hanger at the Charles W. Baker airport at Millington, TN, we soon found ourselves waist deep in wings and wires. I wanted to see his WW2 Ryan PT-22 trainer up close and personally. It has been disassembled and is undergoing restoration or we would have taken it for a hop around the pea patch. In addition to the Ryan, Steve owns once of the sharpest Cessna 140’s I’ve seen in a long time. She's a beaut. I was sure that she was whispering in my ear urging me to lovingly stroke her struts and pat her propeller. I dunno; I could be wrong.

However, an even greater thrill was lurking over in a nearby hanger where Steve’s friend, Paul Bjornland, has a pristine glistening shiny red 1944 Howard DGA15P. Stay tuned and don’t touch that dial to hear about how Ol’ Brother Ran almost needed a new Huggie when asked if he wanted to fly that big baby.

Road Trip 2007

Where do I start?! I guess “from the beginning”, I suppose. Amazingly, the trip started and ended as planned! I really want to attribute that to prayer. How else can you explain a complete lack of mechanical issues and an abundance of un-seasonally-warm weather?

The first visit we made was to Connie’s grandson, Thatcher’s, birthday party in Torrance. The kid made out like a bandit and even had one of Connie’s home-baked specialties for a treat. The gala event was held at the kids’ favorite hangout; McDonald’s Playland. It looked like the youngin’s were having a great time climbing through the huge ducting that ran back and forth across the room. Oh, to be five again and see the world from the top tube.

The party was surprisingly short. We then loaded up and struck out for Apple Valley. That’s where Don and Shirley Gerber live. I hadn’t seen them in about a year or so. That meant that there was an entire year without getting to play Bluegrass music with them. It was great to find them prospering and in health. We had dinner at a Mimi’s there in Victorville. We have one of those in Bakersfield but I have yet to sample their victuals. After checking out Don’s new D-42 Martin and new mando (a real barker!), we bid each other adios. The Toyota was soon heading north to intersect I-40. The big adventure had begun.

I-40 is an interesting stretch of highway .You can almost go to sleep at the wheel and the road will just stay beneath your tires. It goes on and on and on until your path is interrupted by a town of any size or a full bladder. There is certainly a lot of country to see.

We had decided to hit Tulsa first so when we got to Oklahoma City, we departed I-40 and proceeded on I-44 for the two hour trip to “Tulsy Town”. We got their late so we were ready to call it a night. Then next morning we had a huge breakfast and a huger time fellowshipping with Red and Patty Polston. They’re my long time friends from CA and ID. Red is a musician, vocalist, and songwriter on top of being an anointed minister of the gospel. After a grand time we hugged necks departed to see Connie’s kin.

Connie is a native Tulsan and has had relatives there since forever. We visited with and spent the night at her Uncle Ron’s and Aunt Sue’s place. Her cousins, Lisa and Doug, were able to come over for awhile as well. Doug and Connie hadn’t seen each other in almost twenty years so it was a special time.

Ron was quick to treat us like royalty and took us to a couple of my favorite eating places there in T-Town. I had wanted to knock over “Ike’s Chili Parlor” on Admiral Ave again. I hadn’t been there since the last road trip and needed my “chili tanks” filled. I wasn’t disappointed with that place at all. He also took us to the Coney Island hot dog place for a chili dog. That was another of those local places that had been around for almost a century.

Connie wanted to see her grandparent’s home place. Come to find out, I had lived not far from there when I lived in Tulsa in 1983! The place had changed, of course, much to her chagrin.

Another place I wanted to see was the “Airman’s Acres” airstrip north and east of Tulsa. Folks live there and fly their planes off of the grass strip in front of their homes. That’s good stuff where I come from. I couldn’t thank fellow pilot and ham radio operator Ron enough for being our guide and navigator for a couple of days.

From the old buffalo wallow (Tulsa, to the uninformed) we roamed down to Moore, OK (a suburb located just south of OKC) to see Danny Phillips. Danny and his mother, Shirley, are cousins from the Minnick side of my family. I had yet to meet them so this was a super event. We had the opportunity to at least get to visit for a few hours prior to departing for Memphis. I regret not having at least a couple of days to be able to see more of the family who live in the region. The good news is that Danny and I are in e-mail contact so we can stay in touch and can keep each other apprised of genealogical updates and pictures. It was truly a pleasure to get to meet them. It’s always a treat to know that you have such “good apples” in your family tree. The Lord willing, I’ll be able to see them again before long.

After Moore we headed east on I-40. The maps clearly show that, if a driver simply stayed on that highway and didn’t stray but to an adjacent truck stop, he would run smack into Memphis, TN. Straight shots are good.

Since it was getting late, we decided to stop for the night. Now, you can call me “Mr. Cheap” if you want to but….I hate paying close to a hundred clams for a place to park my head for the night. After checking with a couple of places and deciding not to be a victim of motel high-jacking, I elected to check out the nearby burg of Vian, OK. Even at night it was easy to fall in love with this little prairie town. Aside from the gas prices signs that signaled their place in this current decade, Vian (best pronounced with a slightly southern accent or you will certainly be accused of being a “foreigner”) is as anachronistic a place as you can find. It was almost like taking a time machine back about 50 or 60 years. We actually hated to have to leave the next morning. The folks there were friendly and as accommodating as if you were kin. But, it was the motel that sold us on the place. Try 28.00 for a nice large clean room! We both felt like we had just wiped out a “Clearance” rack at Wal-Mart!

Speaking of which….we had the greatest time looking for “Super Wal-Marts” along entire route. It reminded me of the days when we were kids and looked for VW Beatles along the route. What a triumph to be able to find a “Bug” before someone else did! The “Super Wal-Marts” never had a chance. We hit a number of them and checked their clearance sale racks and found several price coups. How can you not do cartwheels when you can buy a ten or twelve dollar shirt for…get this…1.87?!! I must say that I’ve never seen a shopper and “deal finder” like Connie. She can strip mine a Wal-mart with a twenty dollar bill. Good stuff.

A short way up the road from Vian is the town of Sallisaw, OK. You may remember that Sallisaw is the hometown of the infamous Charles Arthur “Pretty Boy” Floyd. He was a notorious bank robber in the 1930’s who was finally taken down by the “G-Men” in Liverpool, OH in 1934.

In about an hour or so we were due for a pit stop so we pulled off at Ozark, AR. Check out the next edition and update of Randy’s Rant Roost for a cool story about a great Stearman biplane that swooped in while we were there.