Columnist Steve Guiremand: Drive to Tucson was eye-opener

Steve Guiremand

Monday, Sept. 24, 2001 | 9:29 a.m.

Steve Guiremand covers college football for the Sun. Reach him at steveg@lasvegassun.com or 259-2324.

This was supposed to have been the easiest trip of the season when it came to covering UNLV's football team.

Hop a plane for a quick flight to sunny Tucson. Maybe even get an hour or two of pool time. Cover the game. Fly back home.

Then came the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11.

The night before that tragedy, I was making plane reservations but couldn't decide which flight to take: A one-stop with a three-hour layover in San Diego or a direct flight that left late Friday night.

Sleep on it, I decided.

A few hours later, my wife, Tracy, somewhat apologetically woke me up.

"Someone flew a plane into the World Trade Center and another into the Pentagon," she said. "Sorry to wake you, but I thought you'd want to see this."

No kidding.

Suddenly, something that I'm sure a lot of us have taken for granted, flying on an airplane, had been changed dramatically.

With airports closed for a few days and talk of four-hour lines for tighter check-in security when they were re-opened, I made the decision last week to drive 6 1/2 hours to Tucson for Saturday night's football game between UNLV and Arizona.

That move had nothing to do with the fear factor of getting on a plane so soon after the terrorist acts. It had everything to do with avoiding lengthy check-ins and the possibility of getting stuck in Tucson if something else should happen to force the closure of airports again.

So, with much dread, I got up early Friday morning, crammed my 6-4 frame into a little Mazda 626 and set off for the lengthy drive across the desert to Tucson.

Guess what? (Boss, don't read next sentence). It wasn't that bad.

In fact, it was pretty darn therapeutic.

With big rigs and motor homes banned from crossing Hoover Dam, there eerily was absolutely no traffic driving across it Friday morning. In fact, there wasn't a car in front of me or in my rearview mirror. If ever there was a time for the locals to check out one of America's great architectural triumphs, this was it.

It wasn't too long before I was stopping at a gas station on Andy Devine Avenue on famed Route 66 in Kingman, Ariz., to grab that not-so-healthy lunch of Doritos, iced tea and a candy bar. Hey, that still is an upgrade over the small bag of nuts you usually get on a short flight.

And if I had flown, I would not be able to say I drove by the Rooster Cogburn Ostrich Farm between Phoenix and Tucson where dozen of ostriches could be seen in a large pen and ostrich eggs were available to purchase for anyone who had a craving for such an item (Not me).

But what made the drive even more rewarding, especially in light of the tragic events of Sept. 11, was just getting to the see the flags, the patriotism, the God Bless America signs all along the way in tiny towns such as Wikieup and Eloy.

In fact, just getting away from TV for a day and not hearing the name Osama bin Laden or watching the smoldering wreckage of the World Trade Center again also did wonders for the spirit.

One moment I will always remember occurred between Wikieup and Nothing (actual town) on Highway 93.

A big rig in front of me had red, white and blue bunting like you'd see at a World Series game draped over the side. And I had a Bruce Springsteen CD blaring the song "Land of Hope and Dreams" as I drove beside it.

As if by cue, came these lyrics:

"This train ...

Dreams will not be thwarted.

This train ...

Faith will be rewarded.

This train ...

Hear the steel wheels singin'

This train ...

Bells of freedom ringin.' "

Talk about getting goosebumps. It made the extra-long journey all worthwhile.

As for the game, that's another story entirely.