My journal continues Day 4 - On the Road Again By 8:30 we are back on the road driving through a whole lot of nuthin'... no buildings, no farms, no cattle, nothing... for hours. The big 'towns' have separate buildings for the gas station and saloon. Due to time limitations, we choose Carlsbad Caverns over the Roswell Alien Museum for today's side trip. It was a tough call, but the Caverns has it's alien thing going for it. Movie quality theatrical lighting makes this huge cave a real Indiana-Jones-Disneyland-E-ride ...and it's all real. Too cool. Lorenzo goes completely snap happy with the camera (if anyone needs an extra hundred or so pictures of stalagtites, just let me know). We dine picnic-style on a bluff overlooking most of New Mexico...lots of sage and cactus, very southwest. According to our official AAA road map, we must take a teeny little road to reconnect us to the Interstate. OK. Ten or so miles later on this teeny little road in the middle of no *%#! where is a FORK in the road and NO SIGN. Hmm, adventure is one thing, but running out of gas ...in the desert ...at night is not my idea of fun. Lorenzo chooses to follow the right fork and I cross my sweaty fingers. My fears are intensified when the little road becomes just a DIRT PATH!! Just when I am about to declare that all is lost, a sign pointing in the direction of the town we are heading for confirms ...we are in Texas!!! Dinner at Dairy Queen tasted like a gourmet meal. Now for our first night sleeping at the roadside rest area. Lorenzo seems nervous about this. I don't see why, we have our Samurai sword with us. Day 5 - Two for Texas Lorenzo is relieved to wake up the next morning to discover that we had survived the night instead of being murdered or otherwise suffering various personal violations. I just want coffee. We packed thoughtfully for our trip, planning our mornings around strong coffee and oatmeal alfresco. Lorenzo pulls out the camp stove, freshly ground beans, big boxes of raisins and oats... uh, where is the plastic Melita filter cone??? Fruitlessly, we search the van. The little plastic device has been left behind. As Lorenzo kicks himself around the rest stop, I try several coffee-making solutions most of which result in a big coffee mess. Finally, I sacrifice a tupperware bowl, frantically gouging holes into the bottom, creating a makeshift holder for the flimsy paper filters. The reward, a half cup of lukewarm grind-filled coffee. This is not my best morning. Next, the open air construction of the rest stop facilities coupled with windy conditions proves challenging. I use almost entire roll of TP before enough stays on the seat, but after all that effort, I cannot produce ...I need more coffee. Drive, drive, drive ...we are in Texas ...it is big. We may have forgotten our coffee filter, but we remember to visit the Alamo. We just can't find it. On the verge of giving up, there it is. It's small. Walking inside the little mission church gives me chills thinking of all the lives lost in a battle for freedom. OK. Buy a postcard, hit the road. Arrive in Louisiana as night falls and morning coffee time approaches, it's time to find a place to buy a coffee filter holder. Stop at a Walgreens, no luck. At the local grocery store, the help is even more clueless. Lorenzo is becoming agitated. Better eat. Unfortunately it's Saturday night, there are l-o-n-g lines at the nice looking restaurants and the nearly empty buffet place features deep-fried, funny-smelling mystery food. This is a very long day. It gets longer. Before we can eat, Lorenzo loses a contact lens. I pray for the day to end. It doesn't. Finally fed, we even find a Wal-Mart that is SURE to have a Melita filter cone. It doesn't. I buy a strainer, a teapot and some flat bottomed filters. I figure when we get back on the road it will improve Lorenzo's disposition. It doesn't. Louisiana has absolutely the worst road conditions in the entire country. As we bump and lurch down the interstate, hitting every pothole, I must cross my arms over my bosom to keep my tits from bouncing off. Salvation comes when we see the rest area sign and we can end this frustrating day. Next stop New Orleans...