I've heard bad mojo about the I-35 highway and the high crime rate that borders the lengthly corridor since moving to my small Oklahoma town several years ago.
It seems to be one of the most disliked stretches of road in the state, not only for the high incidences of drug/illegal immigrant trafficking, but for the poor state of the actual roadway itself.
Perhaps the fact that the I-35 will carry unsuspecting Okie travelers into the heart of the state occupied by the "mostly" undesirable breed of American known as Texan's has something to do with it.
Hey, Texan's -- don't blame me for that last bit of sarcasm...I'm just an outside observer here. Remember, I'm from California and to my public educated mind, U.S. Geography lessons usually stopped at the California border.
So, with the groundwork set for our final family truckster trip of the summer, we decided to brave this mostly 4-lane stretch of cement and asphalt and head on down to the southern environs of our panhandled state for some family R&R.
We left on Friday, after PK's final swim lesson of her 2-week session, and C's final day of Summer Kid's College at a local community college. Tae Kwon Do, advanced tumbling and Varietal Art were all a hit, but she was now ready to live a few days of unstructured family unit bliss.
First stop was the town of Paul's Valley for a few hours of Daddy indulgement at the Action Figure and Toy Museum, centrally located on the town's very quaint, red brick paved main street.
As much as I dug the trip back to childhood (okay, my adulthood is occupied by a few of the fantasy items in the museum...just a few) the whole time I was there I was thinking how cool it would have been to be sharing the experience with my big brother, who has amassed quite an impressive collection of Action Figures himself.
Every so often, my oldest would yell out, "Hey, doesn't Uncle Brian have one of those?" -- to which I would just smile and reply, "Yep, but I think he's got two of them...one still in the bubble pack and one in his display case."
Perhaps if we all float some comments his way, dear bro will send along some pics of his impressive collection.
Before we scooted out of the lovely little town named after American Pioneer Smith Paul, we partook of a yummy old-fashion root beer float at an ancient use-to-be-a-car-hoppin'-drive-up joint in downtown called the Dairy Twist.
I'm not sure what the many locals who were stool sittin' at the counter in the itty bitty eatery thought of my little ethnic family unit, but the smiles the girls generated from those nearby us as they engorged themselves on the frothy frozen treats were unspoken and honest to goodness.
Our sweet teeth satisfied and mindsets finally starting to jibe with the fact that we were actually on a vacation, we piled into the 42-mpg truckster (highway) and aimed directly south for Davis, Oklahoma and a hearty supper filled with "cascading tacos."
to be continued...
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