There's no chance in hell that I would do such a thing now, but a few short years after Willie wrote and recorded this song, I told Mr. Gotrocks that I wanted to rent a motor home and drive across country. His teeth about popped out but I thought it would be a grand adventure for my seven year old daughter and her four year old sister. And it would be a nice vacation for me. Being Mrs Gotrocks is a full-time job.
To be nice I invited him along. Finally, the morning arrived and we hauled out of Denver headed for most but not all parts Southern. My oldest loaded On the Road Again and we sang along with Willie all the way to the Colorado/Kansas border. Read along while you listen.
Our first night was spent in Bob Dole's hometown of Russell, Kansas. The only thing higher than the gas station was a lone windmill silhouetted against a blazing orange and yellow sunset. A gorgeous photograph would bring back memories for years.
Mind you, I knew less than nothing about the hoses or the gray water (sewage, used shower/sink) and clear water tanks and I must not have been paying much attention to the guy giving instructions. The next morning Mr. Gotrocks stood by watching as I began to unhook the hoses. Suddenly one of them flew out of my hands and began jerking and swirling water all over the side of the motor home and plastering my clothes to my body. Hiz Honor jumped out of the way in time to be of no use.
Finally I figured out that one of the metal seals hadn't been screwed on tight enough, so I yelled at him to get my tool box and to hand me my screwdriver. I was pleased that he knew what it was. Maybe because everyone was afraid caustic fumes might blow the motor-home up, we had used the public facilities the whole time we were parked there.
After a quick cleanup we hauled out for Tulsa playing and singing On the Road Again at the top of our lungs. Apparently one night in the motor-home was all my companion could stand and insisted on a hotel while in Tulsa. We took an old school friend of mine to dinner and later he contacted a widow friend of his whose husband - a life-long buddy - had just died and made plans to meet for breakfast.
Somehow it got worked around to, "I think I'll fly on back to Denver after I have breakfast with June."
The girls and I hauled out of that town singing On the Road Again as loud as we could and continued singing it until we got near Little Rock.
We did this for four summers - four to six weeks each. No television, just books, games, fishing poles, dulcimers and sight seeing. The Land Between the Lakes, Nashville where my brother and mom lived, Sewanee, the Smokies, Virginia, N.C., GA, AL, FL and God bless, New Orleans over and over. Stopping for horse shows or to fish or just stopping. And every time we pulled out we sang our anthem.
In the end, I thought Mr. Gotrocks was pretty cool to finance these little jaunts.