Cross-Country Roadtrip in the Honda S2000
Originally published on S2KI on June 2016:
https://www.s2ki.com/forums/s2000-talk-1/cross-country-roadtrip-s2000-1154592
No, I'm not 100% sure why I'm doing this. Yes, it seems genuinely stupid.
Maybe because I have a good friend in Memphis, who kindly offered to show me his hometown, crash at his place, and then roadtrip together (with his lovely wife) to New Orleans for a weekend full of gluttony and sin — the allure of beignets, shrimp and grits, and bourbon and jazz bars being far too strong for any reasonable man to pass up. Or maybe I just want to explore this great country and witness firsthand life outside of the Silicon Valley bubble and simply travel more and meet new people.
A long time ago, I used to date a redhead originally from Bakersfield, and we'd drive down I-5 quite often to visit her family. In hindsight, my nickname for her was quite fitting — testarossa.
On one such trip, we ended up at Wool Growers for her Grandaddy's 95th birthday. It's a local Basque restaurant which serves large portions of rural-California Basque food (imagine huge steaks, tons of butter, iceberg salad, home cut fries, pickled cow tongue, picon punch, etc.). The family sat at a long, communal table — his children, grandchildren, spouses and kids. Unsurprisingly, I got seated next to Grandaddy and we ate together silently while watching everyone gossip and argue amongst themselves, amused by the usual family drama.
Eventually, I leaned over and whispered into his ear, "Grandaddy — you're almost 100, and I'm only 25 — do you have any advice that you would give yourself when you were my age?"
He laughed in his raspy Bakersfield accent, more Southern charm than Southern California. He's the kind of man that loves rhubarb pie, plays piano at church every Sunday without missing a beat, and has been a lifelong member of the local Kern County Kiwanis Club. Over the course of our visits, we've shared lots of stories and got along surprisingly well — stories of his youth, to how the west coast looked 50+ years ago, to how he misses his first car — a 1929 Chrysler Imperial convertible!
He sighed and whispered back, "Travel more" with a glimmer in his eye.
Nowadays, I find myself thinking more about Grandaddy and his words of wisdom than his granddaughter that I was so head-over-heels in love with at the time.
So last weekend I tuned up the little Honda as best I could — valve adjustment, oil change, transmission fluid, diff fluid, clutch fluid, brake fluid — she's sitting at 108,000 miles now! I'm praying that a blown engine, dropped valve, or spun bearing are not in my future.
Day 1: San Francisco, CA to Flagstaff, AZ (765 miles)
Many of you don't realize how big California really is — it took me 8 hours of southbound driving just to get out of the damn state to the Nevada border! Unfortunately, this meant I still had 3 more hours to go until I arrived in Flagstaff, AZ. In hindsight, don’t save your longest drive for your first day — my body and mind took quite the beating, despite the gas station pit-stops and the obligatory roadtrip In-N-Out Burger pilgrimage. Thankfully I got to recuperate with a four-course chef's tasting menu (and a lot of wine and cocktails) at Tinderbox Kitchen in Downtown Flagstaff.
Day 2: Flagstaff, AZ to Grand Canyon Village (150 miles)
If you've never been to the Grand Canyon, add it to your bucket list. I would rank it as my #2 favorite National Park, right under Zion (with Yosemite as my #3). After temporarily willing my car to my friend Brian (in case I disappeared down the Colorado River), I ended up hiking South Kaibab trail down to Cedar Ridge. The rangers will warn you that it's twice as hard to hike up as it is to hike down, which was an understatement.
Day 3: Flagstaff, AZ to Oklahoma City, OK (860 miles)
I guess I didn't learn my lesson — another 12.5 hour drive — with a plan to stop in Amarillo, TX for the #6 best BBQ joint in the entire state (Tyler's Barbecue according to Texas Monthly). My plan had one fatal flaw however, which I didn't realize until it was too late — the change from Pacific time to Central time — and I rolled into Amarillo right as the restaurant was closing. Eventually I continued on the 4 hours from Amarillo to Oklahoma City, watching thunderstorms and lightning striking seemingly hundreds of miles away on the vast open horizon, not aware of the premonition of the storm to come the following day.
Day 4: Oklahoma City, OK to Memphis, TN (475 miles)
I saved this easy drive of merely 475 miles (or about 7 hours) since I was going to meet with my friend Stephen (and his lovely wife), and hopefully get dinner and drinks in Memphis, my first foray into the South. About six hours in, I found myself driving into a storm, the likes of which I have never seen in my life on the west coast (and hope never to see again).
I was barreling down eastward on I-40, a two-lane highway, and making excellent time. Just one more hour until I am in Memphis proper. I was surrounded by semi-trucks, SUVs, and pick-up trucks when the rain started... Hard.
I decided to pull out of the fast lane and slow down to 65mph when the storm took a turn for the worse. Traffic slowed and I lowered my speed to 40mph in 6th gear, hoping to squeeze every ounce of traction out of my rear tires (Continental DW) as standing water flooded the interstate. And that's when the taillights of the trucks around me, the lane markers and paint, road signs, and all other vehicles disappeared — there was now zero visibility in this freak storm, but traffic was still moving. My adrenaline kicked in with an eery feeling of being surrounded by giant monsters that I could not see, but could sense were around me.
Fearing that I was suddenly just as invisible to the semi-trucks as they were to me, I turned on my hazard lights. I kept my foot steady on the gas, the steering straight, now barely keeping it together at 30mph in 6th gear. I couldn't see anything in front of me until I finally saw the semi-trailer in front of me reappear almost as quickly as it had disappeared — only swerving in and out of its lane, starting to fishtail as the water was simply too much for it to handle.
Every bone in my body yelled, "Don't lift!" but when you see a semi-truck in front of you about to lose it, and know there are a few more behind you, your body develops a mind of its own.
And that's when my rear tires got loose and I felt the traction slip away...
Day 5-6: Memphis
... The last time I lost traction on standing water, the rear violently snapped around (so I always have a chuckle when I see guys on here claim that snap oversteer is a myth in our cars and is only really found in old 911s). This time, however, I'm not sure if it was the good rain tire tread or the 200 lbs of water, engine oil, tools, and luggage in the trunk, but when the rear started to float, I somehow managed to keep the car pointed straight. Being completely surrounded by semi-trucks on I-40 would have led to a very, very bad ending otherwise, and I'll chalk this save up to divine intervention and not driver skill.
What can I say about Memphis? It has an amazing food and beer scene, the people are friendly, the women are beyond gorgeous, and there's a ton of culture that you just don't see on the West Coast. We briefly hit the tourist hotspot of Beale Street in Downtown Memphis, but quickly moved on to the local gems — there's so much more to see and explore once you leave the touristy stuff!
The food highlight of my Memphis visit was a group of restaurants that share the same owners (also James Beard finalists) called Hog & Hominy, Porcellino's Craft Butcher, and Andrew Michael Italian Kitchen. Gibsons Donuts are also said to be Alton Browns favorite, and super soft and flavorful. And of course, we stopped by a neighborhood hole-in-the-wall for good pulled pork and coleslaw at Central BBQ. Lastly, we grabbed beers at Wiseacre Brewing — perhaps the first brewery I've seen where the male to female ratio was a solid 50:50!
Day 7-9: New Orleans (400 miles)
After my near-crash experience, I decided to start taking the weather far more seriously than I have in the past 20+ years of my life. The tropical storm warning on TV got my attention, and we opted to drive down in Stephen's 2013 Acura TSX wagon instead of the banana, which I instantly fell in love with. Super smooth, great response and fun to drive, with a good amount of pep and torque — an hour into this drive and I'm starting to feel silly driving across the county in the s2000 — what a night and day difference in comfort.
It was an easy 6 hours from Memphis to Nola in the Acura, and we checked into the JW Marriott right as the storm hit — water up to wheel wells and flooded streets all over town.
Here's what you need to do in New Orleans:
The beignets and chicory coffee at Café Du Monde are required — go at 8am to avoid the crazy lines. Other requirements also include po'boys, oysters, shrimp and grits, and the appropriate cocktails (hurricanes, grenades, sazerac, bourbon, etc.). We also hit an upscale restaurant called Bayona, by the famous chef Susan Spicer, and got the prix fixe four-course lunch menu for under $60 (not including going overboard with our cocktails). Check out the Rodrigue Studio [Blue Dog] and the art galleries and local shops, find some jazz musicians, soak it in.
Take a nap after the inevitable food coma. Wake up at 11pm and head out to Bourbon Street for all kinds of debauchery... Now everything you've heard about Bourbon Street is probably true, so I'll leave it at that. My favorite part? Walk past the rainbow flags and the lights start to fade, the crowds disappear, and you stumble upon one of the oldest bars in the country, lit only by candlelight.
Inside there's a piano man. Order yourself a purple drank or a hurricane, sit back and relax and watch the hours unfold while people sing along and request piano covers to the likes of "Rocket Man" or "You Can't Always Get What You Want" or even "Bohemian Rhapsody.'" Stumble out at 3am and find an even crazier Bourbon Street than you left it.
Next time: make sure to get reservations at the famous Commander's Palace, and bring a damn suit and extra shoes. And get the Café du Monde beignets twice.
On our third day in New Orleans, we packed up and headed northbound back towards Memphis. We took the scenic route and followed the winding Mississippi River up the delta — windows down, sunroof open, blasting Naughty by Nature, Salt N Peppa, and other 90s hip hop classics. We drove through bayou country, big towns and small towns. We saw poor and rich, plantations and shacks and trailers and estates. Lots of different people and new faces and a chance to see a different side of America that most of us will never know.
This trip forged new friendships and memories, and strained and tested others. I'll be forever grateful to Stephen and his wife for the love in which they welcomed me both into their beautiful home and their beautiful city — thank you!
And I'm not sure when it happened — it might have been sitting in Stephen's backyard under the shade of the pecan trees, mosquitoes buzzing about, on an ordinary humid Memphis evening, when he pointed out the fireflies or lightning bugs that I had only ever read about in books as a little boy — but I think I left my California heart somewhere in The South.
Final Thoughts on the Road Home
I left Memphis just as the sun was rising, with a heavy heart. I ended up driving north, through Arkansas into Missouri. My appetite for BBQ was apparently not yet fulfilled, and I ended up at Bogart's Smokehouse in St. Louis. Now stay calm, but I'm going to say that this was the best BBQ of my trip and of my life, and I've had a handful of Midwesterners approve of this decision! I ordered burnt ends, ribs, baked beans, potato salad, and a legitimate side of food coma.
Honestly, after Memphis the days turned into nights and the nights turned into days — I had brief flings with Kansas City, Denver, and Salt Lake City, and decided I really need to return (via air) and spend more time in each city as there's far too much to see for someone as road-weary as I was; I missed my bed, and the jarring suspension was finally starting to take a toll on my body (and my butt!).
I went on this road trip hoping to meet new people, taste new food, and explore this beautiful country of ours. I went out in search of answers, but I came back with more questions about my life, career, and adulthood. Perhaps true wisdom is knowing when to ask more questions instead of expecting to find answers... I'm probably too young to know what I'm talking about, though.
On heading west from Salt Lake City, I woke up early, long before the sunrise and headed towards the Great Salt Lake and crossed Bonneville Speedway off my bucket list (and for just a second in time, I may have literally been The World's Fastest Indian).
The events of the past few weeks not only in this country, but worldwide, are troubling. Lots of innocent people dying, lots of partisan politics, lots of apathy and hatred and division. So I'll close with this singular piece of advice, e.g. what I learned in these 5,000+ miles of solitude during my search for Americana: If you haven't visited another state, National Park, or another country — drop everything, and go travel. Our cars will rust, our possessions will turn to dust, but the people we meet, the food we eat, and the culture and memories we experience through travel might be the only things worth grasping in the end. At 95 years old, Granddaddy was right when he said, "Travel more." Become vulnerable, be an outsider, take risks, and explore the world. And maybe in that process, we'll learn not only about ourselves, but about everyone else around us and finally see that we're more alike than we are different. At the end of the day, that's all that really matters — we're in it together. The world is a small place. Hundreds and thousands of miles blend into one. All it takes is a single trip, with or without a Honda roadster. Travel more.