Petrified Forest National Park
As we left Gallup, New Mexico, I saw signs for Petrified Forest National Park.
“Can we go there too?”
Mileage signs announced our approach. Might as well stop, but with Dad determined to get to Flagstaff, we’d likely glimpse it as a blur through the window. I explained what I learned about petrified wood in science. Mrs. Scribner, back in junior high, had a chunk of petrified wood she let us handle once in class. Looked like a rock, but you could see it once was wood.
“It’s just on the side of the road, we can stop for a little while…” I wistfully mumbled. Cars in front of us turned into the park. Our car followed.
“We’ll drive through and take some pictures.”
Giddy with excitement to visit my first national park, I’d have a great “What did you do on summer vacation?” experience to share at school.
From one scenic overlook to another, we hopped out of the car, taking in the vast landscape. We took a short walk on a trail when Anthony discovered some petroglyphs. We stood in front them, mesmerized with a reality that made us believe pictures we saw in National Geographic magazines.
Anthony started picking up and pocketing rocks. We did the same.
The visitor’s center was our last stop before our last stretch of road to Flagstaff. While we waited for everyone to get a drink and take care of business, I took a peek at an exhibit. Letters from all over the globe, along with chunks of petrified wood told stories of people pocketing pieces of the park. Guilty consciences penned letters accompanied with chunks of petrified forest returned to their rightful place.
“Anthony! We have to leave these pieces of petrified wood or we could get arrested!”
We all looked at one another.
“We’re not supposed to take anything,” I informed everyone.
Mom quipped, “No one will know you have those tiny little rocks.”
As we climbed back into the car, I reluctantly emptied my pocket, except for one little piece.
The sun set as we exited the park. I would’ve liked to have explored more. National parks take planning. Driving through and taking a look is better than nothing. I held my souvenir between my thumb and forefinger, feeling its smooth, weather worn sides. How much time did I hold in my hand?
Anthony once again sprawled his body across the seat, his two sisters conveniently cradling his head and feet. I don’t know how many road signs I read, but Holbrook, Arizona was next. Then Flagstaff.
As we approached Holbrook, a billboard announced a motel with tipis. This looks fun! It didn’t hurt to try.
“Dad, can we just stay in Holbrook instead, this motel is coming up…”
“We’re going to Flagstaff, it’s closer to the Grand Canyon. We’ll be there in an hour and a half.”
We drove past the motel with tipis. I looked through the back window as it got smaller, the sky darkened, and Anthony’s legs got heavy on mine.
When we got into Flagstaff, a large banner welcomed us to an annual southwestern art festival. Dad stopped at a motel to check us in. We waited in the car.
“Well?” Mom asked.
“We’ll go to another one. They didn’t have any rooms.”
On to the next one. I couldn’t wait to get out of the car. We were sticky, hot, and tired. No vacancy. The other hotels, motels, no-tels told us the same thing in neon: NO VACANCY.
One last ounce of hope. Dad stops the car. He tries to check us in.
“They said they’re having to send people all the way back to Holbrook. There’s an art festival.”
The tipis? We could’ve stayed in the tipis!
“We’ll go to Williams, it’s a short drive to the Grand Canyon. If we stay there, we can sleep a little later.”
By now, I’m tired of sitting in the car most of the day. Mom didn’t say much, but she wasn’t happy Dad didn’t make room reservations.
Williams is a small town. Once again, Dad stops at a hotel and gets out to check us in. It took him longer this time. Finally. We can get out, stretch out and get proper sleep.
He sits in the driver’s seat.
He drives to a parking space underneath a street light.
He looks at Mom and quietly says, “We can stay in the parking lot. They don’t have any rooms.”
We will sleep in the car.
Nerds Beget Nerds 
Oh, we have done the hotel hop before, with children in tow! I could feel the frustration from all the travelers, and the weight of responsibility on your father’s shoulders. What an unexpected experience! Were you scared at all?
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Oh my goodness! This brings back so many memories to me as well. At about the same time, I ended up someplace in PA during a motorcycle convention on our way to Hershey! We too stayed in a parking lot with little kids, no place to stretch out, and lots of tired grumpy people the next day! Thanks for sharing
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