Thursday, September 2, 2010

The Perils of Kansas

The only thing that stands between me and the beauty of Colorado is Kansas. It's a long slog across that state. And boring, unless you entertain yourself. And thereby hangs a tale.

I've recently returned from a week-long trip to Boulder. In a rented mini-van. The word "mini" is a misnomer. This was a Chrysler Town and Country that made my Honda Insight feel like a scooter. I eventually got used to the size. What threw me, however, was the radio. I'm from the old school of radio operation. Two knobs. All you do is twist them. One to make the sound louder or softer; one to change stations. What more do you need? I've adjusted to buttons that scan. But touch screens? In a car? Does Ralph Nader know about this? I guess I've been living in the proverbial cave but I must've missed the segue when radios became computers. This radio featured a screen, surrounded by buttons. I could only guess at what functions the buttons were responsible for. "Media." "Aux" "Sound" "Radio" "My Files." And 3 or 4 more I have forgotten. And one knob. A tiny knob for volume. Why am I spending all this time on the radio? Because the radio is the villain of this piece.

Whenever I pushed Media or Radio or one of the others, the screen changed, giving me choices on the touch screen which I found bewildering. As the screens changed, I thought I was watching a PowerPoint presentation on combat operations on the Eastern Front. And I was losing. The options overwhelmed me. Do you know the difference between "scan," "search," and "seek"? Me neither. All I know is I would touch one of the arrows, the station would change, and before I could decide if I liked it or not, it had moved on. "The moving finger writes, and the scan continues to scan."

So, I'm driving through Kansas, heading home, trying to find some music either on FM or on my iPod (which was controlled by "Aux.") My wife is reading and my two Golden Retrievers are sleeping. I'm about 30 miles east of Hays, an unattractive town that pulls in unsuspecting motorists like flies to fly paper. It's a dreary stretch of motels and chain restaurants that offer respite from the flat Kansas landscape. A virtual oasis, if your expectations are low or your needs urgent. I'm fiddling with the radio, trying to find something besides religion or country. My eyes shift between the screen and the road, trying to make sure I don't rear-end someone. I should have added speedometer to my eye-balling.

I'm behind a woman in a blue Toyota Prius in the passing lane. For some unknown reason she has slowed up. "C'mon, lady," I say aloud. "If you're gonna go slow, at least pull over." She doesn't. I hit the accelerator (the T&C is a 6 cylinder job, unlike my little Honda), and fly past her on the right, giving her a dirty look. Got to move, can't slow down, got to get out of Kansas before sunset. Yee-haw! That's about when a car pulls in behind me and I see bright red and blue lights flashing below his windshield. Not on top of the car, where you can spot them a distance away. Yep, it's the highway patrol. He's nailed me.

As I pull onto the shoulder, the blue Prius drifts by. I don't have the stomach to look at her. I know what she's thinking. The state trooper comes over, I give him my most pathetic look, trying to look old and frail. He tells me how fast I was going. I tell him I was trying to get to a Rest Area so we could feed our beautiful, hungry dogs. The trooper shows no emotion. A hard man, I think. Too many years with a badge. Anyway, to end this tale, I'll just tell you I got a ticket, but it was for 80 mph, which is not a moving violation, as the very polite trooper explains. So it won't affect my insurance. Believe it or not, I thank him for his kindness. He then tells me that the radar detector I have stuck to my windshield - which didn't utter a sound through all of this - is a dead giveaway that I like to speed. Cops look for that, he says. He also tells me I can mail in the fine, or appear in court in Hays in October. Easy answer. His parting words are, "Now you can feed your dogs."

I pull back onto the highway, turn off the radio, unplug my radar detector and shove it into the glove compartment, slap the ticket into the visor without looking at the fine, and head for a motel in Salinas. We won't get out of Kansas by nightfall.








15 comments:

  1. Nothing worse than driving across Kansas. Oh yes, there is, those flashing lights in the rear view mirror. The dogs?! Come on Ad Man, you could have come up with a dozen zingers: the dogs were farting and needed to GO. "Smell the interior of this rental van, officer. That's not a radar detector, it's a carbon monoxide detector."
    I completely understand the radio thing. Even two knobs is too many for this techno challenged writer. Gerry, you have such a way with words.

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  2. Gerry,

    Yup...old and frail...that's you all right! Glad you made it across Kansas and safely home.

    Janet

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  3. The only thing worse than driving through Kansas is Basic Training at Ft Riley

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  4. Does Oprah know about this touch-screen radio thing? Shouldn't she be asking everyone to sign an agreement not to "touch" while driving? Texting and touching are pretty much the same thing, aren't they?

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  5. You may recall that Kansas is my home state. If it is viewed as an obstacle between the mountains and the Missouri River, then its 411 mile length grows to include 150 miles of Eastern Colorado and a 100 miles of Missouri. My recommendations include getting off of the Interstate to fly along the two-lanes – especially in the western half of the state, those can be just about as fast. Kansas is a panorama of Great Plains sky. In addition to lots of open flatland, there are the Smoky Hills west of Salina and the Flint Hills in Eastern Kansas. According to William Least Heat Moon, the Flint Hills are the remnants of the Nemaha Mountains, a range once as high and rugged as the Himalayas. I have a friend who takes in motorcycle to Strong City, just west of Emporia, to ride the back roads in the majestic Flint Hills ranch country. You mention Hayes. Last I checked, the Golden Ox Cafe was still open 24 hours. It used to be an oasis for lunch or pie in my youth when I was driving a truck pulling a combine between McPherson, Kans. and Holdredge, Neb. The last time I was pulled over in Kansas (this past Christmas) I received the gift of a Warning ticket – a courteous surprise I was not expecting. – Dwight B

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  6. Linda, I should have called you as soon as I saw the lights. Love your "farting dog" excuses. I guess this means you've read "Walter, the Farting Dog" books. To your grandchildren, no doubt, probably on your Labor Day Weekend outing. On second thought, I wouldn't have used the farting thing. Neither one of my dogs is prone to that, and I wouldn't want to embarrass them, especially in front of a state trooper.

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  7. Take your pick, Janet. "Old" or "frail." You can't have both. I was going to try "weepy," but that seemed pushing it too far.

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  8. Ft. Riley, Mike. Vas you dere? I was. In fact, as we drove by exit 301 from I-70, the one that takes you to Riley, I said to my wife, "I spent 6 weeks there, in July, 1952, lying in the dust, firing M-1 rifles, hiking the hills and flatlands, getting up with the sun for calisthenics. And that's where a rifle went off next to me and damaged my ear drum. Now 60 years later, my ear is still ringing. Thanks for reminding me.

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  9. My good friend Jim Coyne pointed out that 1952 was too early for me to be at Ft. Riley. He's right. That should read 1956, after my junior year of college.

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  10. I should have talked to you before I left, Dwight. You make Kansas sound interesting, at least more interesting than I assumed it could be. I read Blue Highways by Moon, and loved it. Actually I think eastern Kansas is quite beautiful, lots of treats for the eyes. It's the western portion, plus the eastern slope of Colorado, that deadens my mind. You'll be happy to know the Golden Ox is still open. I didn't stop there. If I knew they had good pie, I would have.

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  11. You're right, Mary. Oprah needs to know about this. Here's one solution to the problem: every driver should be required to wear padded gloves. Same category as seat belts. A safety issue. I heard a rumor that when you touch "scan" on a Toyota radio, the car speeds up to 90 mph. Just a rumor.

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  12. In theatre, it's tough to act a bored character without boring your audience. You did not bore me -- you never have and probably never will. However, I have another question: how is speeding at 80 mph NOT a moving violation?

    Jim Coyne

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  13. I wish I knew, but I wasn't about to question the trooper. I was actually going 83, but he said he was writing it up at 80 so it wouldn't go against my record and insurance thing. It didn't fall into the category of moving violation. Which was my big worry. It reminds me of the lawyer who was so good he got a sodomy charge reduced to "following too close."

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  14. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. One just has to look. I realize many feel this is a stretch when referring to Kansas, but it's true. There is something beautiful in the stark geography that comprises the plains, but if you look intently, you see those who endured the hardships of such an area while building this country.
    OK...even I can't stand the BS I'm espousing here. It's a miserable ride across Kansas.

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  15. You had me, Rick. Maybe not the enduring hardships segment, but the geography part. In fact, while talking to some friends who had recently completed a drive across Kansas, they said pretty much the same thing - about the landscape, colors, geometry and patterns. One is a photographer who said he would love to shoot lots of pictures of Kansas. I, for one, would never buy that book. Since you're a photographer, you probably know what he's talking about. And the publisher of the Webster-Kirkwood Times waxes eloquent about the state. KC to Topeka is enough for me. A thought: post your photo with this, the one from your website. It'll give credibility to your views.

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