An Uneventful Day

The night we arrived in Grants I dropped in to bed ready to sleep like the dead.  Alas, the day of driving had left my neck unbearably sore, and I spent the night in pain trying to position myself any way that would ease the agony.  Six hours later I stopped trying and jumped in to action with a plan to prevent further abuse to my neck. 

I've always driven leaving a cushion of air between my head and the head rest.  There is some inane compulsion in me insisting this is the alert way to drive.  After the night's agony, I decided to eliminate that half inch and just lean on the head rest, wondering if it would do the trick.

It did.  I suffered no more neck discomfort for the remainder of our trip. 

While I was at it, I decided to try some other tricks I'd concocted, certain if I'd queried truck drivers I'd find they employ these tactics for their long hauls.  For instance, in the dark when my eyes would become glued to the road and any glances away from the road would prove dizzying - I decided to glance right and left frequently to prevent the fixation of my eyes in the first place.  My eye doctor had also advised that the human eye is adapted for distance viewing and that, when using the computer, one should look to the distance every few minutes.  He also said we tend not to blink when staring at a computer screen all day, so we should force ourselves to blink every few seconds.  I adapted both of these suggestions for use on the road, and I found that all of the tactics served me well. 

With the Red Earth Festival as our final destination, today was to be the most rewarding of adventures for our trip. I have always been proudest of my Cherokee blood, and my children had yet to experience the culture of our Native past or to embrace a pride of their ancestry.  Of all my research of possible Native American expeditions, this had seemed the most ideal.  It was actually en route, as opposed to another interactive opportunity which would have meant an extra 200 miles in our drive.  And it promised to be full of costume and dance, which I was certain would engage my children rather than bore them as a stationary display might.  Further, all Nations were to be represented, affording them the opportunity to see how the tribes varied and how they were similar, and to learn of as many cultures as possible in this single stop.

Along the way I planned to stop at Wonderland Park in Amarillo, Texas.  I had originally slated it for our return trip, but changed my mind at the last minute because it would break up our day more evenly on the way out to Georgia.

Not long after departing from Grants we approached signs advertising the Tucumcari Dinosaur Museum.  It had been our original destination for today, and I pondered sticking to the first plan, but zipped right past the exit.  We spent the majority of the day racing along the freeways with the kids watching movies on the portable DVD player I had purchased before leaving.  The children were exceedingly well behaved and sedate, and I was grateful I had swallowed the extra expense and bought the DVD player.  Occasionally Jedi would nod off to sleep, and Dragon would switch to playing his Nintendo DS, which afforded me the liberty of popping in a CD I had burned of favorite podcasts and listening to "Radio Lab" or "This American Life."

When we reached Amarillo at last I took a chance on the first Italian restaurant we saw at our exit.  Fazoli's proved to be a lucky shot as its prices were affordable and the fettuccine alfredo yummy.  They even passed out free bread sticks, which surprised me since it seemed to be a fast food restaurant.  The bread sticks were especially fortuitous because Dragon found nothing appetizing on the menu and ate only the bread.  Once we left Fazoli's I picked up some french fries for my oldest, worried that all he was eating on this trip was potatoes and bread.

We travelled the twenty minute detour to Wonderland Park.  The directions were inaccurate and the streets confusing, so I spent an extra ten minutes circling the area, trying to find our destination.  We did see a lovely park with waterfalls and determined to stop there if we could not find the amusement park.  However, at last we arrived, only to find the park closed for another forty-five minutes.  When I had switched the schedule around at the last minute, I had failed to re-evaluate the open hours of the attraction.  Given the lush and inviting recreation area at the mouth of park, we opted to stop, eat, rest and play until Wonderland opened.  Jedi raced about while Dragon sat and ate and the bugs in turn feasted on us.

Minutes before the park opened a line began to form.  I gathered up the kids and jumped in line, still close to the front.  I peered through the gates, attempting to assess the benefits of this stop.  I was beginning to question whether we could make it to Oklahoma City on time for the Red Earth Festival and if I had understood the pricing correctly.  It seemed that the signs inside indicated a need to purchase an entry pass in addition to ride tickets.  I had thought from the website that I would be able to purchase $15 in tickets, let the kids ride three or four rides, and be on our way.  Now it appeared I would have to spend another $15 or more just to get in, and I was not prepared for the additional expense.  It was already 7:00 PM Texas time, and I suggested to my boys that we leave.

The idea, of course, met with great resistance.  There we stood in front of an exciting paradise with promises to partake of it.  On my side I had the heat, the wait, the exhaustion and the late hours.  At last we departed, all disappointed and dispirited.

It was with that mood that we met the darkening skies of the approaching state border.  Lightning began to streak not too far away.  I felt a heavy, ominous sense of concern.  This did not feel like just a storm, but either way I did not wish to drive through a storm in unfamiliar, deserted territory at night with my two children.  I kept my thoughts to myself, but Dragon worried the same.  "Mama, are there tornadoes out here?"  He asked.

"No, baby," I reassured him, and myself.  "Those are further east.  This is just a lightning storm.  Doesn't it look cool?" 

I looked to the edge of the menacing clouds.  Any minute I should be breaking through their hold, but the further I travelled, the further they extended.  They followed the same route as us, and I would not escape.

At long last we did break through the clouds and entered Oklahoma.  We stopped at the rest center to attend our needs, which proved too much for Jedi.  He had been asleep and was miserable at being awoken.  I, on the other hand, was enthralled with the bathrooms.  When I had been researching attractions for our trip, Oklahoma's web site had proved superior for ease of planning, allowing visitors to search along specific routes for places to stop.  Now their bathrooms shone equally bright, with personal stalls, tiles of warm tones, and impeccably clean house keeping.  I was so impressed with the bathroom I had to take pictures, much to the distress of my youngest.

Determined to document our trip with pictures of as many locations as possible, I dragged the kids outside to snap some shots in front of the Oklahoma welcome sign.  This was too much for Jedi, so I carried him while he protested the unnecessary activity.  Try as I did, he would not be persuaded to pose for the camera, so I took my pictures of just Dragon.  Dragon was immensely amused by his brother's distress and smiled willingly for the camera.

We jumped back in the car and headed for Oklahoma City.  As soon as we left the visitor center we entered Bug Harvest.  Throngs of bugs flung themselves in to our car, committing hara-kiri with a vengeance.  I wondered if I would have enough windshield wiper fluid to make it to the hotel, and if we would have to play the bug reaper for the rest of the trip.

At long last we made it to Oklahoma City.  Not only  had our detour in Amarillo delayed our arrival too late to make the festival, but I had also neglected to account for the time difference.  When I had planned it out, I had thought that yes, it would be later at each stop than it was from where I left, but that I would get up at 6:00 AM of the time zone of which we were in.  I hadn't counted on arriving at the previous night's hotel later than 9:00 PM and poor sleep to encumber my departure.  So, here we were, in Oklahoma City - a rare occasion - at the time of the Red Earth Festival - an even rarer occasion, unlikely to happen again - and I had missed it.  I was despondent, knowing that we had to leave too early in the morning to make any worthwhile activities Saturday morning.

Finally we reached our hotel, where we waited, with my children wretched and begging for a bed.  A pair of men in front of us hounded the front desk clerk for fifteen minutes to find them a hotel with vacancy.  I felt bad for them, but relieved that I had planned our route and booked reservations.  I could not imagine trying to find a hotel at the last minute during a nation wide event like the Red Earth Festival.  When the clerk finally sent the men on their way, processed our reservation and sent us to our room, we dropped in to bed, and in to oblivion.

Sunset Crater

I knew I was pushing it to plan to drive from Ojai, California to Flagstaff, Arizona by 3:00 PM the same day.  However, haven driven cross country and extended trips many times before, I was certain I could handle it.  I just wasn't sure how driving with two young children would affect my timing, but I compensated for their needs as closely as I could calculate based on the shorter runs we'd taken.

As you know, I was 2 hours past my schedule when we finally made it, but daylight still smiled upon our expedition, and the heat of the day had dissipated.  We actually ended up not even having to pay the park entrance fees because they stop charging after 5:00 PM.  At $5 per car, the fee hadn't been a concern for us, and I would have been happy to pay it.  Nonetheless, every penny adds up, so I counted my blessings and followed the signs to the Lava Flow Trail.

We parked where it seemed the signs indicated, and we gleefully hopped out of the car.  I am embarrassed to admit it, but I hadn't thought there were any volcanos in the mainland of the United States.  Somehow I had naively believed they were only in areas like Hawaii, Japan, New Zealand, Iceland...  So to have discovered that there were such amazing geographical formations close to home, and to be there to soak them in with my children, was invigorating. 

Uncertain what I was beholding, I snapped dozens of pictures of the kids overlooking the black, upheaved, jagged earth.  I didn't remember this type of terrain from my hike 11 years ago in to Mount Tarawera in New Zealand.  I imagined that this was where the ground was rent in pieces from the violence of earth's eruption.  Watching a couple cross the road toward a trail sign, we followed to pursue the summit of the volcano. 

Fortunately the couple was a pleasant, older husband and wife who did not mind trail blazing for us.  Their initial exploration determined that the trail at which we had arrived was a difficult trail, not suitable for the young.  Not desiring an extraneous trek, the couple took off in search of the mild Lava Flow trail, and once again we followed. 

Moments later we were parked at the foot of a dormant volcano with short, paved trails to picturesque spots easily accessible.  We took advantage of those locations while the other team was still in the lead and willing to take our photos.  Soon, our adventurous spirit kicked in, and we sped off ahead of our comrades. 

Not too long before we had attended a children's educational exhibit on dinosaurs and volcanos at Wheeler Gorge in Ojai.  Dr. Wade had explained that because lava is melted rock, and that because melted rock is as heavy as cooled rock, when most volcanos erupt, the lava is slow and gravid and the least likely to cause damage.  Instead it is the volcanic ash that ias hurled violently all about that is the biggest threat.  Looking at the blackness all around, I was unsure if I was looking at ash or lava flow, since it all seemed pebbly.  At last a sign clarified that, indeed, we were experiencing the much anticipated dried lava flow! 

We passed a ghostly tree standing stripped and dejected with arms held at a skewed angle.  I asked Dragon to imitate the pose and stand in front of it for a picture.  He did his best, but held his arms stiff and straight.  So we moved on to a circle of lava, with a particular name, which I have thoroughly forgotten.  A sign asked us not to sit or climb on the formation, so we took pictures in front of it instead.

On we marched, with the children eager to discover the peak of the volcano, hoping for a peek in to a cavernous hole with formidable, glowing lava leering at them from below.  No attempts at preparing them for the reality of a dormant volcano would undermine their fantasies.  Only once we had tired ourselves out walking a mile up the mountain did they relinquish the expectation in favor of a speedy return.

With Super Saiyan bursts of energy, the kids sped down the rubbly incline.  The bubble popped when Jedi slid out and ripped his knees in to bloody pulps,  exacerbated by the sting of the pebbly lava.  He wailed in torment as vehemently as I did in child birth.  I carried him as far as I could, while Dragon surprised me and made me proud trying to distract him with inane comments that made him laugh.  Why do boys think anything talking about butts is hilarious? 

When we reached the fountain at the parking lot I poured water over Jedi's wounds and carried him to the car.  He declared that he hated the volcano and that it was the worst trip ever, and why did I do that to him?  I drove in despair, sorrowed that our first great adventure had turned in to a horrible quest in the kids' minds, and that they were not leaving with the immense sense of wonder I had hoped.

We drove for hours after that to reach our destination in Grants, New Mexico.  It was 11:00 PM by the time we reached the hotel, and I was shaking with exhaustion.  However, Jedi's perception of the trip had altered already by that point, and he was asking when we were returning to the volcano, declaring how much he longed to explore it again.

It was a successful day after all.

A Night to Forget

I pulled in to the Americana Inn in Flagstaff off Route 66 the third night of our journey home. My boys were enervated after a day drawn out by eating in at restaurants with long waits and a fruitless search in Gallup for the nightly Native American dancing advertised on a poster board outside Albuquerque. My youngest was at the melt down point where he could only wail and bemoan all that was wrong, which was everything since the only thing that would be right was sleeping.

The first thing to greet us was a man with long, white hair and beard biking furiously toward the office from the back of the inn. He ran in to an obstacle and spent the 5 minutes it took me to extract my children from the car favoring his injuries and correcting his bike. I was leery already. Was this the kind of motel where locals stayed who couldn't gain housing because of criminal records or deleterious lifestyles?

Inside, on the other hand, the front desk clerk was friendly and sympathetic to my need to quickly get the kids to bed. He apologized for giving us a second floor room and sent us on our way.

I pulled around to the back of the motel, and my spirits sunk further. It felt like a seedy inn. Areas of the walk way were damaged, with planks of unfinished plywood affording a measure of safe perambulation. The same plywood acted as a ramp up unusable stairs, and it appeared to have weathered quite some time in its position rather than acting as a temporary measure until repairs could be made.  My son asked why the plank was there, and I hemmed and hawed, not wanting him to feel the unease I was experiencing.

Opening the door to our room, I found spacious accommodations with 2 queen beds. This was the only pleasant aspect of our lodgings. It was stifling in the room, so I checked the thermostat to turn on the air. The thermostat had only a temperature dial, which was already turned on low while the temperature gauge still read 80 degrees. There would be no air for us tonight, and it was too warm to be comfortable. My oldest complained that he could not breathe, and in my stress I did little to comfort him. Instead, I turned down my sheets, expecting to sleep under just the top sheet so I would have cover without heat. Alas, I found crumbs on the crib sheet and was forced to sleep on the top sheet with a hot comforter for my blanket.

I searched for a plug to charge my cell phone and found another unwelcome sign. A used water bottle lay abandoned behind the night stand. It appeared the house cleaning in the room was minimal rather than thorough.


Turning on enough lights to see I discovered badly patched holes in the walls and ceiling. When I flushed the toilet, it protested loudly for several minutes with a squealing sound. After washing my hands I found no hand towel present. Securing the door in this sketchy place also proved a challenge because the latch was missing the ball that the hook grabs, so I pushed a table against the door.


If my children hadn't been beyond relocating, I would have insisted on a refund and left immediately. As it was, I decided we would sleep and move out quickly in the morning. Unfortunately sleep proved nearly impossible for me. This inn also seemed to be the kind that teenagers use to party and nasty men to bed a prostitute. Downstairs I could hear the young, shrill peals of girls and the laugh of the guy they were with, as though they were playing a drinking game. When that noise finally abated I drifted off to sleep a few hours until I heard a man and woman entering the room next door around 3:00 AM. The moaning started soon thereafter, as did the wall being slammed by bodies and knocked by the headboard.


Exhausted, when light finally started pouring in to my room, I arose to ready myself and vacate immediately. It was still too early, though, to waken the kids. I decided to use the free internet access to write Travelocity to let them know how terrible the accommodations were. Unsurprisingly, the security code the morning clerk provided me did not work on the Wi-Fi. So I headed out to my car to pack up.


Descending the upper level of steps, I found that the decrepit plank across the stairs was not a fix for broken steps, but a make shift ramp for the cleaning crew. Further, the plank I had perceived to be covering a broken area of the walk way under the stairs was actually flanking an uneven hole in the concrete around a pipe, but off the sidewalk. Perhaps, with a trash can sitting in the parking lot at the foot of the stairs and the cleaning equipment piled around the cavity in the concrete, it was as dilapidated as I originally thought, but not as precarious.


As I loaded up my car, the door beneath our room opened. A mother and her teenage daughter stepped out into the sunlight, leaving their room open with all its disarray on display as they departed. It seemed that I was right about a teenager in the room below us, but probably not about the party. Was it possible that mom and daughter were staying up late watching some amusing movie and laughing over it together?


Before launching the final leg of our journey home, I swung by the front office for some ice and to use the microwave. The gentleman handling the front desk was just as pleasant and accommodating as the young man was the night before.

So I left, exhausted and feeling that the place was certainly rundown and unkempt, but not quite so menacing.
 
 

A Matter of Time

The 30 minutes we lost at the onset of our trip didn't initially seem to be an issue.  It also didn't seem to be a problem when my youngest needed to stop 15 minutes after each of our stops, and my oldest needed to stop 15 minutes after each of his brother's pit stops, when their bowels finally kicked in.  However, when we finally reached our first destination 2 hours late, those inconveniences added up to a very late night. 

That late night in turn added up to a late start the next day, which meant that we did not make it to the Red Earth Festival in time.  Missing that opportunity ate at me with a self berating canker sore.  If I had gotten out the door a little sooner, taken that back route, not stopped to pick out a handful of exquisite rocks that first day.  Or maybe if I had skipped travelling 20 minutes off the beaten path to treat the kids to a low cost amusement park in Amarillo only to get there and find it didn't open for 45 minutes.  And then to wait that 45 minutes only to find that the cost was significantly more than I had understood from the website.  Maybe I would have made it in time.  Now I'd missed an essentially once in a lifetime experience.  How often would I be passing through Oklahoma City?  And what were the chances that the next time I pass through would bring me during the festival?

"Stop castigating yourself!  Learn from the mistake and take what you have and do the best with it."  I reminded myself.  I must be more forgiving of myself, and others. Instead of internal negative reinforcement, I must remember to focus on a positive mantra.  "It's OK."  Easy enough.

The next day we were back on schedule, making it to both 14 Flags Museum and Jean Petit Park.  In turn, we were able to make it to our folks on time Sunday afternoon.  Congratulating myself, I took stock of what I had learned in order to prepare for our return trip:

1.  For every hour we travel, we will need 20 minutes in circling around attempting to find our destination, and bathroom and meal stops.
2.  It doesn't matter if I do not leave a stop until both of my kids have used the potty.  They will have to go again 15 minutes later, and 15 minutes again after that.  Their bowels are not in sync, and they will not operate on demand.
3.  Check my timing before detouring for an adventure.  If I am not on target, including time zone differences, evaluate the importance of the attraction versus ensuing destinations.  Skip it if I can't make a more valuable experience by sticking to the original plan.

The Confusion and Rebellion of Blohm

We started off pretty much on time this morning, not more than 15 minutes off schedule. I congratulated myself as we drove off until I realized that I'd taken the wrong direction. The mapping program had indicated it was shorter and faster to take the back way out of Ojai via the 150 rather than traverse the 33 to the 101. I was still close enough to turn around and correct the mistake without losing more than a few miles, but I decided it was providence that I'd headed in this direction, given the twisting, climbing nature of the 150 and the absolute absence of light at 4:00 AM. So we kept on our path.

Perhaps that was the first of my errors in timing. Add 15 minutes for the late departure, add 15 more for the alternate route.

As you know, I'd replaced my tires not too long ago in preparation for this trip. Out of all the things I research before deciding or purchasing, I left this one to experience. I wanted 80,000 mile tires, and that was that. Had I but read a few forums on the Prius, I might have discovered how much the mileage dropped depending on the tires. Well, apparently the superior tread of my tire generates an equally superior amount of traction, and thus friction, causing my vehicle to strain that much harder to pull itself. My mileage plummeted from an average of 50 mpg to 46 mpg. Given that I still haven't' gotten over my disappointment with the discrepancy between the promised 55 – 65 mpg for the Prius, and that I had factored my gas savings in to how much I could afford to pay on a car, this new low was aggravating.


Still, I'd driven cross country before and made incredible mileage in my old Honda Civic DX. That great little car had even gotten 450 miles on one tank of gas on one segment of the trip. It never lived up to that achievement again, but I certainly expected my Prius to equally ascend. Imagine my shock when instead the first leg of our trip resulted in 43 mpg! I comforted myself, mentally trying to calculate how much more the trip was costing me as a result, and kept on trucking. With much relief, but still disappointment, the next time I fueled up, Blohm managed 47 mpg.


Ah, yes. I am hereby referring to my Prius as Blohm. Blohm, meet my friends and blog readers. Friends and blog readers, meet Blohm.


On to the riveting tale of gas mileage. It turns to horror. Poor Blohm has never been required to perform more than the 25 mile commute to and from work, with rare exceptions to Los Angeles and San Diego. He has handled those challenges like a champ, without complaint. But this trip utterly confused him. We kept going, and going, and going. And what's worse, we were running the AC on a high setting! What were we doing to him?


When I tried to feed him, he wouldn't take it. I shoved the nozzle in the mouth of his tank, and it clicked off as though Blohm were full. I pulled it out a little, with the same result. So I perched it just inside the opening of the tank, and Blohm drank his fill. Then rebellion set in.


When I removed the fuel pump, Blohm spat the gas back out at me. I rushed around trying to wipe the vomit from his body, and to wash it from my hands, worrying that he might explode in his condition. He didn't. Instead he descended to even greater depths of rebellion. He gave me 35 mpg. 35 mpg! My Honda had pulled that without blinking. At $4 a gallon in Needles, I was in agony. If it hadn't been for the mighty fine fella at the Jack-in-the-Box there (begging pardon to my dear, male friends reading this – I wouldn't look, much less comment, if I weren't single,) the town would have left a more than bitter taste in my mouth.


I drove with cruise control on, pondering what this meant. Was my car mechanically failing – perhaps a form of young Alzheimer? I began to realize that Blohm sounded like he was really struggling, so I turned cruise control off and manually negotiated the speed, responding with human intellect to the demands of the terrain.


And Blohm recovered.


That darned cruise control was at fault. Perhaps forums would have told me this as well, or perhaps it is just Blohm's weakness that he cannot work under such a task master. Once I turned off cruise control, our mileage returned to an average of 47 mpg, and even hit 50 mpg one on segment of the trip!


It seemed Blohm had fully recovered. However, he did suffer a brief relapse the next day. I stopped to fuel my tank, and upon departing, found that my gauge read the same level of gas as before I had refueled – 3 bars short of full – roughly 150 miles traveled. I worried that I had deluded myself and only thought I refueled when perhaps someone was stealing my gas. Yet I hadn't left Blohm's side. I grew anxious that perhaps the gas was nothing more than vapors given the 102 degrees of heat, and that it did nothing to sate my car's appetite. Finally, I decided that Blohm was once again confused and failing to register the fuel level on his gauge.


The fuel level did not rise or fall for the next two refuelings. I began to scheme. Perhaps the gauge is a device inside the tank, and perhaps it had become fluid logged with that regurgitation episode. Maybe, if I allowed the tank to nearly empty, the gauge would dry out and recover.

So I drove, passing gas station after gas station and fretting that I might be consigning myself and my children to an extended stay in the wilderness. But sure enough, once we passed 175 miles on the one tank, the gauge began to fall. And when I refueled after 250 miles, Blohm registered a full tummy. We were back in good standing with each other. He had adjusted to the trip, just as my children had.

 

Need Affordable Hotel Recommendations

My return trip is proving a bit more demanding to plan.  Because we'll be visiting the Georgia Aquarium on the way out, and we want a minimum of 2 hours to absorb the exhibits, we won't be on the road until at least noon.  That means I can't realistically plan for more than 8 hours of driving thereafter, which puts us around Brinkley, Arkansas.  There is no Motel 6 within a reasonable radius of said town, so I've got to research hotels that aren't on-line as the ones that are over extend my budget. 

We also then find ourselves needing to plot the rest of the segments as close to 9 hours as possible, and the second destination lies in Jericho, Texas.  Again, no Motel 6 is within a reasonable radius.  We either end up not travelling far enough or going too far.

Does anyone out there know of any reasonable, affordable hotels in those areas?  Obviously I'm not looking for Sheraton quality - just a clean room with everything working, no bugs, and something safe, i.e. no prostitution, drug use, gangs...

And on that route, between Brinkley and Jericho, does anyone know of an engaging activity that young children would enjoy close to the 40?

At Long Last

At long last the outbound segments of this trip are planned:

Day 1:

• Checkpoint A - Sunset Crater National Monument, Flagstaff, AZ - http://www.nps.gov/sucr/index.htm
• Checkpoint B - Grants, NM

Day 2:

• Checkpoint A - Mesalands Community College's Dinosaur Museum, Tucumcari, New Mexico - http://www.mesalands.edu/museum/museum.htm
• Checkpoint B - Red Earth American Indian Cultural Festival, Oklahoma City, OK - http://www.redearth.org/red-earth-festival/

Day 3:

• Checkpoint A - 14 Flags Museum, Sallisaw, OK - http://www.exploresouthernhistory.com/sallisawmuseum.html
• Checkpoint B - Petit Jean State Park, Rock House Cave Trail, Morrilton, AR - http://www.petitjeanstatepark.com/things_to_do/trails-detail.aspx?id=153
• Checkpoint C - Jackson, TN

Day 4:

• Checkpoint A - Chickamauga, GA

As you can tell, it took me quite a while to get through all the research to pinpoint adventures not too far off our route that would entrance the kids.  Out of all the sites I used, Oklahoma's was the best!  http://www.travelok.com/things-to-do/advanced  Their advanced search made it easy with options to search by activity type on specified highways.  While other states provide searches by city, for those of us passing through, having the highway option is infinitely preferable.
 
Awaiting the launch of our trip, my oldest son has a Super Mario Brothers game, and my youngest has a dinosaur game awaiting.  We were able to procure a portable DVD player, and I've requested several DVD's from the library.  I'm also on the look out for a lap art center for my youngest.  Hopefully between all of the above and regular stops, my sons will endure the trip, and perhaps even enjoy it. 
 
Now, on to determining the child safety restraint laws state by state, and figuring out our return stops.