As Promised, The Black Beetle Script

I mentioned this in the early DC posts, here's the upcoming Ozarks At Large script on travel. I did this before heading to DC with Ashley.

WALKING OFF THE AIRPLANE, AND STRIDING THROUGH THE PARKING LOT, THERE IT WAS. A CLASSIC VOLKSWAGEN BEETLE – JET BACK WITH THE ORIGINAL CHROME ACCENTS. IMMEDIATELY I WAS TRANSPORTED BACK 40 YEARS TO MY EARLIEST MEMORIES OF ARKANSAS, CRAWLED INTO THE LUGGAGE SPACE BEHIND THE REAR SEAT OF MY MOTHER’S BLACK 64. I COULD LOOK STRAIGHT UP OUT OF THE REAR WINDOW, MY OWN SUN ROOF, BOUNCING ALONG IN THE PRICKLY PEAR FABRIC. THE GREY AND BROWN SPECKLED JUTE UPHOLSTERY HAD A UNIQUE SMELL, A SPECIAL FEEL. IT WAS WHERE I RODE TO VISIT MA-MA IN THAT TINY LITTLE HAMLET OF ARKANSAS CITY. I REALIZE ON THAT AFTERNOON THAT I AM A TRAVELER NOT ONLY BY NATURE, BUT BY BIRTH. MY FATHER, ILL ALL MY LIFE WITH A LAUNDRY LIST OF MALADIES, NEVER LET HIS HEALTH KEEP HIM FROM WORK, AND AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE, TRAVEL. A MAN WITH AN EIGHTH GRADE EDUCATION, HIS ADVANCED DEGREES CAME FROM LIFE ON THE ROAD. HE OFTEN SAID THAT HIS WISH FOR ME WAS TO SPEND A YEAR ON THE ROAD – OH SO KEROAC FROM THE MAN WHO GREW UP AS THE SON OF A MULE TRADER AND SAW THE SOUTH PACIFIC COURTESY OF THE UNITED STATES ARMY. I HAVE NO DOUBT HE WAS CORRECT. I LEARNED PLENTY OF THAT LIFE AS A QUASI ROADIE FOR PERCY SLEDGE, THAT CROONER OF SOUL, AS HE MADE HIS WAY THROUGH HONKY TONKS IN SOUTH LOUISIANA; ROLLING ACROSS AMERICA WITH COLLEGE FOOTBALL AND BASKETBALL TEAMS. CALL ME A ROADS SCHOLAR – AS PROUD OF THE DEGREE EARNED FROM DECADES OF TRAVEL AS THE ADVANCED DEGREES BESTOWED BY INSTITUTIONS OF HIGHER LEARNING. IN THE END, WHAT I SAW AND LEARNED FROM THE ROAD, ABOUT AMERICA, ABOUT LIFE, IS THE EQUAL OF MY ACADEMIC TRAINING. MANY DAYS OF THE WEEK, MORE IMPORTANT. AFTER THIS FATHER’S DAY, I REMEMBER AND HONOR THAT ADVISE AS I TAKE MY DAUGHTER ON HER FIRST MAJOR SOJOURN – A TOUR OF THE NATION’S CAPITAL; JUST LIKE THE ONE HER OLDER BROTHER RECEIVED IN FOURTH GRADE. I CAN ONLY HOPE THAT SOMEDAY, THEY’LL SEE AN IMPOSSIBLY LONG ESCALATOR AND SMELL THE OZONE OF ELECTRIC MOTORS AND THINK ABOUT THOSE TIMES SPENT IN THE DC METRO. LIKE THE OLD BLACK BEETLE, I PRAY THOSE MEMORIES WILL ALLOW THEM TO CARRY ON THE FAMILY TRADITION.

I think that after the trip, I achieved the goal.