Road Trip

So what do you do with a pick up truck full of clothes, bikes, Little Debbie snacks, guns and ammunition? You head north. At least that is what I decided to do for a week long vacation away from the whoas of work and unpacking. There are approximately 1200 miles of road between Dallas, Texas and Detroit, Michigan, none of which are particularly exciting to see either. East Texas, Arkansas, Tennessee, Kentucky and Ohio are the states that roll under the wheels of the Ford as I steered north to cooler temps. Why am I driving instead of kick’n back in the confined seat of an aircraft? Well, I’m traveling fully loaded with gear that, after the airlines finished charging me for all the additional overweight and oversized fees, would cost much more than dishing out the dough for a round trip ticket. Besides, the folks at the airport look at you kind of funny when you check in a box full of guns.

So what’s in Michigan? Although my parents live in Texas, most of my family and friends live in the Great Lakes. I try to make a pilgrimage there at least once a year for a visit and it just so happens that this trip will coincide with the annual gathering of “Canyon Men” which is the moniker for the group of friends I grew up with. We use to spend a lot of time together as teenagers but we sort of went our separate ways after high school. With the onset of jobs, responsibilities, families and old age, we decided that we needed to get together at least once a year to do something “manly” like climb a mountain or wrestle a crocodile.

The Canyon Man weekend was mainly about getting together and doing the things that we enjoyed as kids. Events included riding our bikes down a ski slope (in summer), jet skiing on a cold lake, consuming vast quantities of pizza bread and cooking dangerous canned food products (there is a story about chicken and dumplings in here that will make your skin crawl). We decided that we couldn’t just relish in youthful recreational activities without looking like a bunch of washed up 30-somethings trying to hold onto their youth. Instead we decided to up the ante by competing in a race or even to challenge ourselves (or kill ourselves in the process).

The first gathering was a few years back when we decided to do a triathlon together. Let me caveat this by saying that you would not have confused any of us as the typical high school jock of our respective high schools; I ran a little track, Ken wrestled, Brian read books and I think Ryan golfed. For the most part, we were not specimens of the athletically fit, so when we decided to go for the Lake Hubbard sprint triathlon, it was a pretty monumental task. That first year most of us trained for it and some of us even completed it (less the swim), but we vowed to reunite again in the following years. With the exception of my short stint in Iraq last year, we have followed through on our promise.

I’m only in Ohio now, taking a well needed stop over at a friend’s house near Cincinnati. Assuming that the evil Ohio Highway patrol doesn’t impede me, I’ll travel north to Dayton tomorrow to visit Alissa’s family and then move onto Michigan. I’ll gather up some folks and drive up to the lake where we’ll ride jet skis, shoot guns, and maybe even build a bonfire that can be seen from space. After that, we’ll head west to the West Coast (Lake Michigan) to watch some of our members race in the Steelhead Half Iron Man. The smarter ones in our numbers will only be spectators for the race.

Did I mention that I was smart? An arguably false statement but I still won’t be doing a triathlon until I overcome my handicap of swimming like a cinder block.