Tales from the Roads of Texas

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After the first day of our vacation, I posted a summary. In case you missed it, you can catch it here. This might have led you to believe I would be doing so daily. Foolish you. I am a lawyer on vacation. Do you really have positive expectations? Grow up.

There have been some interesting happenings that I would like to share. Many will make you glad you didn’t go on vacation.

The Honda Remote Adventure

One morning I decided to be productive while my traveling companions slept. They do that a lot. I had been getting a message from my Honda Pilot that the remote battery was low. We looked in the owner’s manual to determine what should be done. It was no help at all. I googled “Replace Honda Remote Battery” and, at least found out what battery was needed to make the replacement. I found the replacement at Walmart. (There is nothing worth having that can’t be found at Walmart.)

I googled “How to change the battery in a Honda Pilot Remote.” I was not amazed at all when a YouTube video appeared with all (I thought) directions. I followed the directions on remote 1 and the remote promptly broke into tiny pieces. I decided to open the other remote to have a model on which I could base the reconstruction of the first remote. (I am the only fool that my momma raised.) Need I say that it also disintegrated upon opening. I felt so foolish until I googled “How to put a Honda remote back together.” Amazingly, I found a YouTube video with precise instructions. Apparently, the original video leaves out an important step and many remote do-it-yourselfers end up with remotes in pieces.

Before attempting a remote restoration, I admit I panicked. We were at our very remote “resort” and it suddenly occurred to me that I might not be able to unlock, and more importantly, start my push-button start vehicle. I took the pieces of one of the remotes and placed them on the console. I prayed as I pushed the “start” button and was elated when the vehicle sprung to life. I am not sure how “in pieces” remote did that. I did have some concerns as to how I was going to explain to Rosemary why there were pieces of remote on the console. I was comforted by the fact that I had a YouTube video to assist me. In case you, knowing you are reading something written by a lawyer, don’t believe such a video exists, well here it is.

Using the “how to reconstruct” video I was able to reconstruct the remotes. I wish I had videotaped that for YouTube. The remote parts are tiny. My fingers are fat. I was in the Navy for 11 years and I know a lot of colorful language – all great elements of a video.

Deliverance – The Movie – Almost Recreated

The “resort” at which we spent our first two nights in the hill country of Texas is “remote.” Note how I transitioned from a story about remotes to a story about a “remote” “resort.” I put “resort” in quotes because a place is not a “remote” according to Rosemary, if there is no place to eat on the property, not even a quickie mart. It is also impossible for a remote to have no massages, hot tubs, tennis courts or golf courses. This remote sports none of those amenities.

There are officially no mountains in Texas, but there are some very high hills. Access to the “resort” is by “mountain” roads. On our first night, we arrived to find that no nourishment was available, so we had to go back into town to find a place to eat. We used the “there are a lot of cars in the parking lot” strategy to select a Mexican restaurant. Finding a Mexican restaurant in the hill country of Texas is not a big challenge. The food wasn’t great but it wasn’t too far from the “resort.” We were tired. We settled.

We headed back to the “resort” and soon after leaving the main road and heading into the hills, we got lost. I mean completely lost. We flagged down a local and asked for directions to the “resort.” We were advised that we were on private property and we had missed the “really big sign” which directs one to the resort. It was at this point that I think I recognized this fellow as a character from the movie Deliverance.” And not Ned Beatty, Burt Reynolds or Jon Voight. I adopted my most apologetic demeanor, the one I use with judges when I’ve missed a deadline or an obvious legal point. I slowly backed the car up and headed away from the hill folk and to what I hoped was “resort” land where people wear khakis and drink coffee from Starbucks. I don’t think this guy knew what a Starbucks is. We made it back to our condo, but I didn’t drive again at night while at the resort. I am not a coward, but I’m not a fool. I am a veteran, but I was in the Navy, not the Marines.

The Benefits of Service

Speaking of service, I went to Vietnam twice during my eleven years of military service. I often wear a Vietnam Vet ball cap. I was no hero. I didn’t want to go, but after having three majors in three semesters at USL, I could hear the footfalls of military recruiters following me around. When a young man from Iota who was renting from my parents said, “I’m joining the Navy..” I said, “me too.” with no more thought than that. I served for 11 years, but never in a combat situation. I was at land bases and on an aircraft carrier. Half the time I was a computer tech spying on Russian submarines and the last half I was a paralegal. I wasn’t honored at the time for my service. Our ship had garbage thrown at us when we returned to San Francisco and passed under the Golden Gate Bridge.

I earned my undergraduate degree while in the Navy and my two kids were born during that period. I feel like I got rewarded for what I put in.

I started wearing Vietnam Vet gear a few years ago to honor and get respect for the real heroes who served in horrible conditions and paid the price for the rest of their lives. It’s hard to think of yourself as a hero when you are called a “baby killer” when you get home and those that dodged the drafts are hailed as heroes.

One of those real heroes died last weekend. He was father to my daughter-in-law and served with me as grandfather to Nick and Sammie. Our lives were very different. I have been successful and happy. He was not so much. He was in and out of treatment facilities. He woke up many nights screaming reliving some of the worst parts of his service. He still used some of the drugs he was introduced to while serving in Southeast Asia. He wasn’t as close as he would have liked with family, while I am blessed with the best relationships with some of the best people I know.

When I checked into the hotel on the Riverwalk in San Antonio last night, I was wearing my Vietnam Vet hat. I was noticed and thanked for my service. We really wanted to stay for two nights but, because of local festivals, a Friday night accommodation was not available and they were going for nearly $300 a night. One of the employees learned of our situation and this morning I was told I could stay another night in the same room for $127. Less than half of the going rate.

Folks often buy my breakfast or greet me warmly when I wear Vietnam Vet gear. I am thankful for that, but remain somewhat bitter for the vets who end their lives each day or who live in a nightmare they can’t forget or never live the good life most of us enjoy.

I’ll keep wearing my Vietnam Vet gear, not for the occasional benefits I get, but so this country will never forget that they forgot, and demeaned and, probably worse, ignored the heroes from the 60s who didn’t come home to parades or speeches, but lived until they die with nightmares and regret they didn’t deserve. CJ Guidry, I honor you for your service.

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