Brandon's Road Trip (now with more Indio!)

I always had my doubts about that car he and his father chose...an Audi, maybe what, eight years old? It's rather cool-looking, no doubt (and Brandon has always been much cooler than the rest of us). Black, sleek, shiny, and menacing (something Brandon is definitely not.)When he told me of his plans to drive it from Los Angeles to Austin (in July! Through deserts! And in a car that has a recent history of overheating!), I was naturally concerned. However, the plan was to get it into the shop prior to the trip, get it up to par, and get on the road, pronto. No more fighting with his sister over HER car. And, much as I love him, with his illustrious driving record, he wasn't getting his hands on our three-months-new Honda, either.




I watch his plane take off, just a tiny bit enviously. Don't I wish that the person PAYING for the tickets would get the AAdvantage Miles?? Nope, it's the person that flies, no matter whose dime pays for the ticket. Both Brandon and Rebecca are accumulating a decent frequent flier miles balance. I'll admit that I'm jealous. Between my commutes and the kids flying back and forth from California continually...you'd think I'd be offered a free membership in the Admiral's Club, at least. And when do *I* get to go anywhere FUN!? (Breathe, Mom. Your turn is coming.)




Several days later, (and those days I'm sure included much partying with the former roomates/frat bros) Brandon calls me in the late afternoon to notify me that the car's repaired, and he's taking off for Texas. Right now. Which means he should get to Las Cruces, New Mexico at...1:00am?? The usual motherly nagging/warnings/concerns emit from me, and Brandon reassures me that all will be JUST FINE, MOM.


"Can you drive?" "Are you SOBER?" "Are you SURE?"


He actually sounds just fine, and HAS sounded fine the whole time he's been there, so why am I worrying about this right now? I hang up, say a quick prayer for his safety, and go back to preparing dinner. I don't have a good feeling about this.



A few hours later, another phone call. Brandon has broken down just past Indio, CA. I'm grateful, at least, that it didn't happen later in the night, out in the middle of literally nowhere. He decides to pass the time waiting for Triple A by checking out the stars and seeing how many constellations he remembers. I envision convicted escaped felons patrolling the desert, looking for the vulnerable and broken-down traveller. I just know they are armed and dangerous. I can see them in my mind - complete with missing teeth and oh yes, menacing tattoos. I pray some more. I text Brandon a few warnings and then text something mundane about how Triple A will take the car to a Triple A approved shop and then get him to a safe hotel. He texts me back:


"I was going to take the car to a chop shop run by meth heads and then sleep outside in the Salton Sea, but your idea sounds pretty good instead, Mom."



I can't stop snickering at the depiction...and realize I'm going overboard with the text warnings. I leave the phone (and Brandon) alone for a while. He updates me with a text an hour or so later telling me he's at an hotel that has something to do with an Indian casino. I text him "Don't gamble it all away" and receive from him:

"I'll only gamble enough to pay for the heroin and hookers."

How can you not love this kid's sense of humor? Knowing he's kidding (I think?), my mind is slightly more at ease. It's Friday night, and the car will be looked at in the morning. Hopefully he can be back on the road tomorrow afternoon, and make it to Las Cruces at a semi-decent hour (for a night person).



Famous last words! The car needs a special part that won't be available until Monday morning, because of course, this particular part cannot be found in Indio. Poor Brandon is stuck at a Holiday Inn Express in the cultural and social mecca of the Southwest - beautiful Indio, California. He texts me the news that there isn't a convenience store within walking distance and he'll have to take a cab to go buy toothpaste.


The weekend passes by (quite slowly for the stranded traveller, I'm certain) and he's on the road, FINALLY. I reserve and pay for a room in Las Cruces, New Mexico. This is the second time I've gotten to reserve AND pay for this room! I'm really, really hoping he makes it there this time, as my MasterCard is nearly maxed out. He's paying for his own gas, room in Indio, and car repairs, which I KNOW are going to be in the high hundreds. Plus he just had the engine rebuilt before leaving on this trip, to the tune of several thousand dollars. Actually, this car must have cost approximately SEVEN thousand dollars to repair prior to the trip, since both Brandon and his father (my ex-husband) are swearing that they each paid for the car repairs by themself, "out of my OWN account!" I don't know who to believe, as usual. This is quite an expensive late 90's Audi. Remind me to never buy one.


Long story short..no further incidents, and as I'm walking the two smaller Girls at 9pm, I see a black car streak down the main artery of our neighborhood. The speed limit is 30 mph, and I note, with a sigh, that I get to reiterate that fact to Brandon when I get back from walking The Girls. That is, if a Texas law-and-order police officer doesn't introduce Brandon to the Austin Municipal Court system first.