I started the day at 6AM in Kansas City, Missouri. My destination, the Truman Presidential Library
was nearby and opened at 9AM. Downstairs, at the hotel, I grabbed a cup of coffee
and went outside. I had plenty of time
so I talked with a couple of truck drivers for nearly an hour. At about 730AM, I was checked out, loaded and
on my way for the short drive to Independence, Missouri.
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Truman's Home in Independence
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Harry Truman was born in Missouri, in 1884.
When he was six years old his parents moved
the Independence.
From then, until his
death in 1972, Independence was his hometown.
Since the library and museum didn’t open until 9, my first stop was in Independence.
I parked my car across from his home and
walked where he walked.
Down to the
Presbyterian Church he attended and met his wife Bess; down to his
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The church were Harry met Bess
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Masonic
Lodge; across to downtown Independence and into the train station.
The train station is famous for being the last stop on his
1948 Presidential Whistle stop Campaign; and, of course where got off the train
in January 1953 as Citizen Harry S. Truman.
Once back in the car I drove
toward the library. A short distance
from the Library I saw this place Poppy’s.
It said “Bakery” and there was a line out the door when I drove up. A
bakery with a line out the door indicates a required stop. All they “baked” was donuts. I ordered a glaze and a cup of coffee. The donut was so bad I spit out the one bite
and threw the donut away. Fortunately,
the really acrid yet lukewarm coffee
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| Poppys |
was good for rinsing the bad donut taste out
of my mouth.
Anyway, onto the library.
A week prior to my arrival, they had finished a multi-year renovation
of the Library in honor of the 75th anniversary of his ascension to President
(ascended rather than elected as he as Vice President replaced Roosevelt upon
his death). I spent two hours in the Truman Presidential Library
going from room to room, visiting each exhibit.
From Truman’s WWI uniform to the two semi-automatic pistols that were
used in the attempted assassination the exhibits were amazing. There were
three things I really wanted to see. The
first was the mural “Independence and the Opening of the West.” It was one of the things Truman took keen
interest in when he was developing his Library.
It is magnificent.
My next milestone on the tour was his office. The office remains just as it was on his last
working day
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Grand Master Harry S. Truman
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before his death.
The Library
has removed the office wall behind his desk and replaced it was a huge glass
wall.
You stand behind his desk as if
you are in his office.
All of his book,
papers and memorabilia are there as he wanted them.
I a view into the man’s personal space; his
personality.
Lastly, I wanted to view the
exhibit on his Masonic heritage.
The
only photograph I snuck was of a painting of Harry S Truman as Grand Master of
Masons in Missouri.
My next overnight stop was in Wichita, Kansas. The drive was just under 200 miles. A little after 2PM, I arrived at the
hotel. Sitting in the hotel parking lot
I kept looking at the Nav. It was just
over 20 hours to home. I could be at
home tomorrow morning, Saturday. Instead
of late Sunday evening. And, if they
would let me out of tonight’s room without a cancellation fee and I cancelled Saturday
night in Albuquerque, I would be up nearly $300. I decided if they let me off the hook for
tonight’s room it would be “sign.”
They did. I had 1,351
miles to drive. The first two hundred
miles or so was south by southwest through Kansas, crossing into Oklahoma. Around 150 miles into Oklahoma I drove by “No
Man’s Land Regional Park” and decided I need gasoline and maybe a coffee. I pulled into a truck stop that is, really,
in No Man’s Land. There were lots of
new, high dollar cars, but no commercial trucks. And, everyone getting gas or hanging around
was a Native American. I gassed up and
walked into the little store.
If you called Central Casting and told them you wanted a 70
year old Native American women they would send you the woman behind the
counter. I asked her, “How’s the coffee?” She replied flatly, “I’m fucking drinking it.” Before I could even form a reply, she raised
a hand and pointed to the rear of the store.
I walked back there and found the large commercial urn. I poured the hot black liquid into a paper
cup, scrounged up a plastic lid and went back to the counter.
I gave her two paper dollars. She pushed the change across the yellowish
counter and said, “It’s getting dark, son.”
While it wasn’t actually getting dark, her meaning was clear. I pocketed the change, tipped my Fedora and
walked out. I walked across the parking
lot with my shoulders square and a bold stride.
Not because I was trying to intimidate anyone, but that’s how you
retreat rapidly without actually running.
I crossed through the northwest corner of Texas which is
where all the Flat Earthers must get their impression of our World. It’s tabletop flat.
It was sometime after Midnight when I stopped for gas again,
somewhere west of Albuquerque. I thought
about eating. There were at least 25
cars in the McDonald’s drive-thru. I
defaulted to finding something at the truck stop. After filling the tank, I bought two truck
stop, roller cooked hot-dogs and a large coffee. At the time, I thought I might be taking the
biggest risk of my life: two truck stop hot dogs washed down by coffee 750
miles from home.
Windows down and sunroof open I drove through the cool night
air of northern New Mexico and Arizona. A
few miles east of Williams, Arizona on highway 40 I awoke to the beep beep beep
of my driver assist telling me to put my hands on the wheel. Later, I would test the alarm and find out
that it goes off 30 seconds after detecting the driver is not actively steering. That was a bad sign. Time to implement plan B.
At the next off ramp I pulled off. There wasn’t anything there except dozens of big
rigs with sleeping drivers. I pulled behind
a forty foot refrigerator van, killed the engine. I set my phone for 15 minutes, reclined the
seat and passed out in the cool high desert air to hum of the refrigerator van.
When I woke I set the phone for 30 minutes.
For the last 400 miles I stopped every 30
minutes.
Gas, coffee, stretching: 30
minute drive and 5 minutes - rest all the way home.
My third to the last 30 minute stop was west
Needles, California.
Its one of those off
ramps that goes off into the vast Mojave Desert.
It was 8AM and 105 degrees. In the
photograph, the desert stretches endlessly in front of me and behind me in the
reflection of my car.
A fitting last
photograph.
I arrived home at 1130AM on Saturday. Sunday morning I was still tired and had
sworn off long drives. On Monday I
booked rooms in San Francisco and agreed to drive my friend Barry to Grand
Lodge Annual Communication; its only 465 miles each way.
Eighteen days; 14 hotel rooms; over 7400 miles.
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