It went well. The restrooms at the rest stops along the 40 are remarkably clean. Thank goodness. Above is a shot of Mom at a rest stop in Tennessee along a stretch of the 40 dedicated to Al Gore, Sr. and the men and women of the Armed Forces. We encountered some snow while we sped through the beautiful Smoky Mountains, but Mom's gold ol' Honda Accord soldiered on without a hitch.
We got off the 40 in Oklahoma to find Eakly, a tiny town along the 58 where Mom used to visit her cousins every summer. We asked a guy in a pick up truck where the cemetary was, and he pointed up the hill, near the water tower. Sure enough, there it was. There we found Mom's biological father's grave. His name was L.T. Moore, and we know little else about him, except that his mother and father and baby brother are also buried nearby. But the graves include photographs of the deceased. It's the only record we have of what he looked like. He definitely had Mom's eyes. Or she has his eyes, I guess I should say.
We got back to LA on Thanksgiving Day, grateful for a safe trip and the opportunity to do it. Sick of the car, we walked to El Compadre to have Mexican food on turkey day.
I'm still downloading photos. More soon.