This travel blog provides highlights and commentary for the trip I took to Flagstaff, Arizona (USA) in January, 2014.

REASON FOR GOING
Regular readers will know that when my son and I went to the Museum of Tolerance recently, one of my daughters broke her foot the same day. I planned to surprise her with a visit.

THE CAR RENTAL
I didn’t want to put the wear and tear on my own vehicle, so I rented. I rented the cheapest, most fuel-efficient vehicle the Ontario Airport Avis had. With the various discounts and incentive programs working together, I paid less for three days worth of car rental than you might pay for a single day. But that’s not the story here.

Again, another Seinfeld reference: remember when Jerry reserved a rental car but the agency representative told him they were out of cars? That happened to me. They confirmed my reservation for a cheap-as-crap car but they did not have any available. Unlike Jerry’s encounter, the Avis rep said he was going to upgrade me immediately without any additional charges. So far, I was pretty excited. Then he said he would put me in a Ford C-Max. Uh-oh.

Almost all of my cars have been either Toyotas or Fords. I even owned a Pinto. Regardless, I had never heard of a C-Max. To me, Ford passenger cars, SUVs and cross-overs have names. You know, like Escape, Explorer, Fiesta, Focus, Mustang, etc. Even their small trucks had a name: Ranger. I only know Ford’s full-size trucks by number: F-150, F-250, etc. I fully expected to be renting a van at this point because other than “Econoline”, I don’t know how Ford designates vans.

With paperwork in-hand, I moved out to the parking lot where I was directed to space G-3. As I started walking towards the vans and SUVs, I found my car. It was similar in size to my old Saturn Vue, so I immediately became disappointed. My anticipated 40MPG fuel rate was now dropping into the 25-30MPG range. They didn’t get me on the rental charges, but I was going to pay for it in additional fuel.

FORD C-MAX
I was wrong. The C-Max is a hybrid. A very quiet and fuel efficient hybrid. After I got tired of looking for the key I realized it was a push-button start. I pushed the button and nothing happened. The engine didn’t turn over, the car didn’t shudder, nothing. I pushed it again. Nothing. I pushed it again. This time, however, I paid attention to the dash board which had a message that the car was ready to drive. Huh. Technology. I put the car in reverse and a large rear-drive assist camera shot took over where the radio controls had been displayed.

The rear-drive assist was totally cool. It showed your current wheel path and your destination based on that angle. Move the wheels and the angle changes. I really, really liked it but it violates my first rule of driving: if you can’t park it, you can’t drive it. We have so many huge SUV-driving people out in my small berg that can’t park their freaking monster trucks it causes me no end of anger and frustration. I can see some dickweed being an ass and taking up two parking places with their Mercedes because they don’t want it to get door dinged. They’re just asses and I can forgive them for that. But to take up two spaces because you couldn’t judge the distance between the left and right of your vehicle and you’re over the line by eight inches on the passenger side because you have no depth perception? WTF? The vehicle is only slightly larger left-to-right outside than it is inside. FIGURE IT OUT! Oh, and don’t get me started with the people that make the 32-point turn to get out of a parking place because they can’t judge how long their boat is. I saw one woman in a parking lot get so frustrated with trying to get out in her Princess Cruise Liner she chose to drive over the concrete tire stops rather than keep trying to back out. Oh my gosh it pisses me off. Anyway, I’m way off-topic.

I can’t say enough good things about the C-Max. I only drove it for three days and I didn’t read the owner’s manual, but I really liked it. With all the driving I did I only filled up twice, which would be the equivalent of one full tank of gas. I guess the Avis guy didn’t have it out for me in fuel charges after all.

ON TO FLAGSTAFF
I picked up a Little Caesar’s pizza for my son and I to eat on the road. I met him at 2:30pm and we were on the 15 freeway north-bound by 2:35pm. We had no traffic issues whatsoever on a get-away Friday on the road to Barstow. Barstow, of course, is where the 15 north goes to Las Vegas (and points beyond) and the 40 begins (or ends). With the cruise control set, the ride was a breeze. We anticipated making Flagstaff between 9:30pm and 9:45pm (the time zone changed at the Colorado River; it’s only a six hour drive).

My daughter, who had no idea her brother and I were on the way, sent a text message around 8:30pm informing me she was headed out to see a movie but would be back before 11:00pm if I wanted to text-message her later. This actually worked out well because we were able to check into our hotel in Flagstaff and I knocked out some computer work before she returned to her dorm. She sent a message at about 10:50pm stating she was home.

CONTACT
My son and I left the hotel and headed to the campus. I had not been to her current apartment so we knew it would take a minute or two to find. I sent her a text and told her I had ordered a pizza for her and the driver would arrive at 11:15pm. That text was meant to confirm she was in her apartment and that either she or her roommate needed to be awake and dressed, not in bed wearing pajamas. After an initial complaint about having to get dressed again, she said she would wait for the pizza guy and call me when he arrived. We found the correct apartment and my son, holding the now empty Little Caesar’s box, knocked on the door.

My daughter had a very strange reaction. She looked at her brother, looked at the pizza box, looked at her brother and looked at the pizza box again. Not being able to hold back any longer, my son finally started laughing and she finally realized who he was. She later told me that when she opened the door her first thought was that the “pizza kid” looked a lot like her brother but she was very disappointed that I had ordered Little Caesar’s and not Dominoes. She was looking forward to Dominoes. Although she was very pleased my messages turned out to be a ruse from the get-go, she was genuinely disappointed that even the Little Caesar’s box was empty; no pizza at all!

DINING AND ENTERTAINMENT
On Saturday we went to the Riordan Mansion, which was pretty neat. It’s either on the Northern Arizona University campus or carved out of one edge of it. If you’re into that type of architectural style, you’ll enjoy the visit. The architect was also the same guy who designed one of the lodges at the Grand Canyon. I couldn’t tell you his name or which building but the people with whom we took the guided tour (recommended) gushed about it being so similar.

Saturday night we went to Salsa Brava for dinner. I had Portobello mushroom and spinach enchiladas. Oh my gosh they were fantastic.

Sunday would not be complete if my son couldn’t get his Cracker Barrel fix. Well fed and fueled, we left for home.

OATMAN
I briefly discussed Oatman, Arizona before (linked here). This time, however, instead of taking Route 66 southwest from Kingman, we took it northeast from the 40 (Exit 1 in Arizona). Oatman is the most enjoyable tourist town I’ve visited. The people are very friendly and the shop owners don’t seem to treat you like a “mark” but as a person. They want to know where you came from and where you’re headed. We ate lunch at the Olive Oatman Restaurant and Saloon and, of course, fed the burros that wander through downtown.

Leaving Oatman we took the Boundary Cone Road into the Fort Mojave Indian Reservation and then the 95 south into Needles.

HOMEWARD BOUND
I topped-off my gas tank at the last ARCO on the 95 in Arizona and paid $3.019 per gallon of 87 octane. We crossed the Colorado River into Needles and found the closest ARCO on the California side. Same gas, same octane, 1/4 mile distance and one state line later, $3.539 per gallon. I freaking hate California’s fuel taxes. I don’t know about where you live, but a recent check of California’s taxes (here) show we’re still one of the highest in the nation.

So other than the fact I left my house keys in the rental car after we returned it to Avis, we had no issues.

If you enjoy reading these musings, please let me know. Whether you do or don’t won’t keep me from posting but it will let me know if anyone other than me finds them entertaining at worst, informative at best.