Upper Deck: A 'Rocky Mountain High' Road Trip

Steven Carter -- DB.com

I grew up in a small west Texas town, Snyder, where the population depends largely on the price of oil. I had intended to visit my home and my mother over the holidays but circumstances caused the trip to be delayed. I knew I had to go because my mother was getting increasingly difficult, no matter what you read about how Jewish mothers are good at using guilt as a weapon, German mothers have taken the guilt weapon to a whole new level, call it German engineering. Anyway, my daughter volunteered to go with me on the trek.

I decided to use the opportunity to educate her on sports and music. I took advantage of the situation to teach her everything I know about what is wrong with the Mavericks and the Cowboys. In between my rants, I taught her about classic music. My children were unfortunate enough to grow up in an era of synthesizers and rap, so they missed out on a lot of what makes music real. So I brought my personal music library with me and instructed her in the greatness of everything from Mac Davis' "Baby Don't get Hooked on Me'' to Jerry Reed's "Amos Moses.'' I can truthfully say they just don't make music like that anymore.

The trip from Dallas to Snyder is roughly a five-hour drive from Dallas. You could fly if you had wings because there is not a real airport within 80 miles. So the only two ways of getting to Snyder are driving or taking what is laughingly referred to as "the bus." "The bus" is a torture device mostly used on teenagers to scare them straight. "If you don't act right you will end up like those weirdos on "the bus."

As we drove we had enough time to listen to a lot of music, "Ring of Fire'' by Johnny Cash, "Another Brick in the Wall'' by Pink Floyd, "No More Mr. Nice Guy'' by Alice Cooper. Strangely my daughter sat quietly through all of it. She even let me play country music like Diamond Rio and the Gatlin Brothers. At times she seemed to even enjoy the music. It was at this point I took a chance. I played "Rocky Mountain High.'' It has been sort of a weird thing in my children that according to them, the most horrible noise on the planet that you can ever hear is a John Denver song. I have never really understood it, because I always liked John Denver, but getting one of my kids to listen to a John Denver song is almost as impossible as getting Tony Romo to hang on to the football during a playoff game. So sure enough the song only lasted about three notes before she reached over and changed the song, about the same number of snaps Tony Romo takes in a playoff game before turning the ball over. By the way, I heard that Tony Romo is introducing a new line of western boots, of course you can't wear them much, they fall apart when you put too much pressure on them.

The trip was successful and we made it home. The weather was great. I got to visit my hometown, and my daughter got to experience the music of my youth. At least I thought she did. She was listening to an IPod through an ear piece the entire trip and missed out on all my music and rants ... about the Mavs not getting Dirk any help ... about how Romo and Wade Phillips suck ... she missed the whole thing. I asked her how she knew about the John Denver song. She had seen me singing along, turns out what the kids hate the most about John Denver is that I sing along.