Faced by a fresh awareness of the "finiteness" of life, Henry A. Zimmerman III decided that quality time with his son meant spending seven weeks together on a 9,OOO-mileodyssey around America in a 1982 VW Vanagon. s has been his custom for the past 30-some years, Henry A. Zimmerman III greets his childhood chum with a prank. This time, he is standing in the baggage-claim area of Las Vegas-McCarran International Airport and the caper is perpetrated by his current accomplice, Henry A. "Henny" Zimmerman N, 12, who holds up a sign that reads, "Welcome Johnson" as I approach. The intentional misspelling of my name, a tradition among my closest high-school friends, stems from my adamant corrections of any teacher who mispronounced it.
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_I Of course, Henry has the financial wherewithal to afford such an excursion. (He estimates an average cost of $120 per day.) He comes from an affluent family. His father, Henry II, now retired, was a pioneering cardiologist at St. Vincent Charity Hospital, the first in the world to catheterize the left side of the heart. As an adult, Henry's earned a good buck as a stockbroker. But his life has been interrupted by several dangerous detours. At 16, Henry contracted systemic lupus erthematosus, a chronic autoimmune-system disorder in which the body attacks its own tissue and organs,
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eases, making it tough to diagnose. And people with lupus are more susceptible to infection because the necessary medicines lower their immune response. "Henry is remarkably unselfish in how he handles his illness, so that it has minimal impact on his family:' Moskowitz observes. "He continues to do things like this trip, even at reasonable risk to himself, because he loves his family." On June 7, Henry and Henny departed their Pepper Pike home in a 1982Volkswagen Westphalia Vanagon (christened
"Westy"), towing a 400-pound Alite A-frame camper trailer. When I arrive at the air16, 90 percent of port on Monday, June 24, to the people who join them for a one-week leg of their trip, they are roughly got lupus were a third of the way into their dead within five seven-week,9,301-mile odyssey throughout the cenyears," says tral and western United States. They look it. Henny, who Henry's father, shaved his head before leavDr. Henry ing, now sports short stubble. He has been wearing the same Zimmerman. T-shirt from University "Now, Henny will School, where he is a seventhhave something to grader, for several days. Henry, also in days-old attire, remember for the exhibits vestiges of the disease he has endured since we were rest of his life." not-so-holy sophomores at Gilmour Academy in Gates (At right, Christopher Mills back in the early '70s. He Johnston with his looks heavy and his face is dark red, a side effect from travel companions) "When Henry was
including the joints, kidneys, heart, lungs, brain, blood or skin. In August 2000, he suffered a massive heart attack, attributable in part to the cumulative effects of lupus, and survived a triple bypass operation. Dr. Roland Moskowitz, a rheumatologist at University Hospitals who has taken care of Henry since he first became ill, explains that, though treatable, lupus represents a sword of Damocles for patients. They might be well for a long time, but then a severe flare-up can affect their kidneys, heart or central nervous system. Symptoms oflupus, which can range from mild to lifethreatening, often mimic the symptoms ofless serious dis-
years of steroid-based medication, but his toothsome smile under a mop of disheveled black hair and the joy in his voice testify that he is having a great time. "I've already told my family that I'm dropping out to live on the road:' he remarks as we head toward the parking garage. There, the other key member of this summer expedition waits patiently for us in the driver's seat of the van: Buckwheat ("Bucky"). The name stems from Henry's love of "The Little Rascals:' At home, Bucky, a chocolate Labrador retriever, serves as a companion to Spanky, the
Zimmermans' miniature bull terrier. "I couldn't be without a dog:' Henry says, adding in a falsetto voice, "I wish I could teach you how to drive, Buckyl" In fact, this trip was greatly inspired by John Steinbeck's "Travels with Charlie:' which chronicles the author's journey throughout the West in a customized camper truck with his pooch, Charlie. While I'm sure Charlie fared well on his trek with his literary master, he had nothing on Bucky. Pulling out of the airport, our first destination is not Death Valley,as I had thought, but PetSmart. Bucky has not been handling the lOS-degree heat of the Nevada desert well. We are in search of any device that may keep him cool, eventually stumbling upon the Canine Cooler, a plastic sleeping mat that can be filled with cold water. It's a simple detour. But it reveals that Bucky is not just their dog. And Henry
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_I and Henny are not just vacationers, not just Americans claiming their rightful piece of Manifest Destiny and hustling to the next museum, landmark or national park. No, this is life on the road. The purpose of this trip is to explore the areas they visit in leisurely fashion, chat with the natives, take a hike, take a swim. Whatever. "They did not want to have a prebooked, preplanned, have-to-be-here-ona-certain-day feeling to their trip;' Henry's wife, Lydia, later explains, having been rebuffed every time she suggested making reservations at a popular campsite. Other than deciding to make a southern-to-
~:::ggggg"""'n~(orthern loop, Henry left the routing entirely to Henny. "He's done a great job getting us around;' relates the proud papa. "I don't even question him:'
Pahrump, Nev. - June 24 Rolling into Pahrump, we are greeted by a sign: "Welcome to the New Old West." We drive around for a couple hours, looking for a good spot to stay the night, and end up in an RV park that is little more than a parking lot. Henry has discovered that the desert casinos rustle up gamblers with the promise of a cheap dinner. Our mission, then, becomes to find the cheapest ribeye, T-bone or strip steak. We head to the post office for guidance and to send home the spoils of the road. In today's package, Lydia, the expedition's spiritual guide and archivist, will find several rolls of film; guidebooks and
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DVDs about Bryce Canyon, the Grand Canyon and Zion National Park; a Ziploc bag containing unidentified black goop that Henny discovered; various gifts for the family such as key chains for Emily, a senior at Orange High School; hat pins for Lucy,a sophomore at Hathaway Brown School; as well as some never-tobe-worn T-shirts for the girls. Finding anything with Lydia'sname on it has become a quest, since they've been unable to locate even a mug adorned with her old-fashioned moniker. (A week later in San Francisco, they will purchase a heart-
shaped necklace with a piece of rice inside with Lydia'sname written on it by an artist.) "Their idea of what we would like and our idea don't coincide;' Lydia notes. "But it's always fun to get a package from different places:' A few hours later, we pull into the parking lot at the Mountain View Casino/BowlinglDining establishment. The exterior exudes all the warmth and architectural charm of a warehouse with palm trees. We enter through the casino and stroll past elderly patrons mechanically feeding the slot machines, then past elderly patrons mechanically feeding themselves at the bar. In fact, when we enter the restaurant behind Madge, our elderly hostess, the median age in the
room drops significantly. As we tuck into our $4.95 T-bones, the conversation turns to what Henry and Henny have enjoyed most about the trip so far. They did take at least one of Lydia's suggestions, stopping in Hydro, Okla., to visit the late service station/ diner owner Lucille's ("Mother of the Mother Road") museum of fabled Route 66. They also loved the narrow canyon hike at Zion National Park. And Bryce Canyon, Utah, was memorable, except for the guy who wanted to punch Henry because he mistook the affable Bucky's bounding toward his French poodle as an attack. First, Henry castigated him for swearing in front of a
"I had a good time
with them, because they're like two peas in a pod," says Henry's sister, Jane, who joined the pair in July for the Sacramento-to-Spokane leg of the trip. "But by about 8 at night, I was ready to kill them."
12-year-old. Then, he showed him the angry purple scar in the center of his chest that demarcates his heart surgery. On the trip, Henry's health has remained good. Strolling out of the restaurant, he says that for the first time since the surgery he has not experienced the shortness of breath and excessivefatigue that often keeps him from working. Although he has to avoid prolonged exposure to the sun, which can aggravate his illness, the desert heat has actually had an unexpected therapeutic effect on his arthritis. Knowing how everyone worries about his health, Henry's initial instinct was to hide CLEVELAND
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J his travel plans and his purchase last summer of a used Westy when he found it in the Tradin' Times and haggled the owner down from $10,000 to $6,000. He replaced the engine and refurbished the brakes, then secreted it in the parking garage at his office until one day that fall, when he woke up Henny and took him to see the van. They got it tuned up and washed and had a stereo system and satellite radio installed. When the rest of Henry's family finally learned of his plans, they weren't as surprised as he expected. His father, Dr. Zimmerman, thinks the trip is tremendous. "When Henry was
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daunting even in a car with a cooler full of bottled water. Imagining the pioneers trekking this vast stretch of desert that hovers around 130 degrees, with surface temperatures closer to 200 degrees Henny wants to try frying an egg on the ground, but they don't have any left gives us new admiration for their courage. Bucky, however, is not faring as well. As I drive through the lowest point in the continental United States, at 280 feet below sea level, Henry and Henny pack him with towels of
"They did not
16, 90 percent of the people who got lupus were dead within fiveyears;' he notes. "Now, Henny will have something to remember for the rest of his life."
Death Valley, Calif June 25 When asked about Death Valley,practically everyone in Las Vegas and Pahrump responds with: "Why on earth would you want to go there? Just drive outside of town for five minutes and you'll see the same thing." Instead, the stark and endless beauty of Death Valley's landscape - sandy, dotted with rocks and sparse, scrubby vegetation for miles - is 60
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want to have a prebooked, preplanned, have-tobe-here-on-acertain-day feeling to their trip," Henry's wife, Lydia, explains.
ice, encourage him to drink and douse him with water. Finally, we stop at a gas station in Furnace Creek, where Henry hoses off Bucky, then takes him inside the air-conditioned office. Within minutes, he's discussing dogs with one of the attendants, who is originally from Chesterland. Although we drive through an empty campsite nearby, which should tell us something, we finally decide to stay at a motel, because a nowfrantic Bucky is attempting to force his way under the dashboard by Henry's legs. "Oh, Bucky, I love you!" Henry chimes in a falsetto. Though I don't share the same depth of fondness, the Buckster has landed us in an air-conditioned motel in
Stove Pipe Wells. (Back in the day, stovepipes were used to mark the location of wells in the nearby sand dunes.) The entire town seems to consist of a service station and general store across the street, and the motel: a series of singlestory buildings with the office, the Nugget Gift Shop, a pool, a covered patio and an Old West-style restaurant/bar. Even the employees reside in housing behind the rambling complex. On either side are more mountains, sand, rocks and buckwheat (the plant kind) as far as the eye can see. Our favorite view, though, is the swimming pool, where we lounge for a
couple of hours to soak away a day's worth of desert heat. By 9 p.m., still wearing the same shorts and T-shirts, Henry and Henny dry off on deck chairs under a giant canopy, while I remain up to my neck in water. The thermometer above their heads registers 124 degrees. Later, as we head to the motel's saloon-themed pub to grab a quick dinner, we agree that the inventor of air conditioning is an American hero who was robbed of a Nobel Prize.
Mount Whitney, Calif June 26 Before leaving Death Valley,we drive back a mile or so to check out the sand dunes, one of seven such groupings in the valley. Inquisitive Henny collects a sample in a small plastic tube. While rifling around the van for a cap, he absentmindedly tries to hold the tube with his teeth, spilling some into his mouth.
~ Over the next several days, he goodnaturedly absorbs much grief for the mishap. ("Hey, don't those rocks look delicious, sandboy?") Climbing back into the van for our drive from the lowest to the highest point in California, Mount Whitney (14,494 feet above sea level), Henry spouts a new motto we've picked up from a T-shirt at the Furnace Creek gift shop: "Hike or die, boys. Hike or die." By early afternoon, despite alternating stretches of engine-overheating inclines and brake-smoking declines, we've made it into California's High Sierra country. Ascending another steep switchback, we find a campsite just 20 yards from a surging, snow-fed
mountain stream. After unpacking, we hike up the path along the stream. It's quickly apparent that neither Henry or I can keep up with Henny and Bucky. Somehow, out of breath, we make it to the gift shop halfway up the trail for some cold sodas. Henry, hugging Henny, says, "We're coming back in a couple of years to climb to the peak." Instead of hugging him back, Henny just grabs onto his father's shirt. He's taken to this practice over the last few months, since he accidentally broke his father's rib while hugging him from behind. Henry's bones have grown prematurely brittle from osteoporosis, another side effect of three decades of Prednisone use. Still, this does not stop the two from these modified exchanges of affection that typically feature falsetto exchanges of "I love you, son" and "I love you, father."
Road Warriors
Yet, they can also be perfectly obnoxious in their father/son routines, often going out of their way to annoy each other - or their guest. A favorite is Henry's repeated rendition of a bad song's chorus - such as "Lovin' You" by Minnie Ripperton, and Henny's immediate parroting of him with a fabricated verse of his own. While I'm trying to navigate the steep hills leading to Death Valley,Henry sits in front, toking a cigar (just like his father) and reading USA Today, while he and Henny repeat every sophomoric skit blasting from a Bob and
at the base of the mountain. As night and the mosquitoes descend on Mount Whitney, Henny and I write in our journals or read by the fire before bed. Henry is off chatting with the campground host. Henny is engrossed in "Black Hawk Down:' about the American military debacle in Somalia, for school. He recounts in great detail what he's read so far. We also discuss his eclectic taste in music, from the underground college bands sister Emily has turned him on to, to rap artists Jay Z and Busta Rhymes, to some of his dad's favorites, Iimi Hendrix and The Doors, which we've listened to extensively in the van. He has a
Tom CD (such as "I Wanna Be Your Bra") or various teleThe trip was phone pranks from a Jerky greatly inspired Boys CD. "I had a good time with by "Travels with them, because they're like two Charlie," John peas in a pod:' says Henry's Steinbeck's sister, Jane, who joins them in July for the Sacramento to account of his Spokane, Wash., leg of the journey through trip. "But by about 8 at night, the West with his I was ready to kill them." dog, Charlie. Around dusk, Henny cooks up our dehydrated spaghetti The Zimmermans' and lasagna. All day, the two pooch, Bucky, have regaled me with tales of discovered views how delicious these prepackaged meals are. Instead, they such as the one taste like sawdust in an Elmer's overlooking glue reduction sauce. FortuTenaya Lake in nately, we also bought half a watermelon and some fresh Yosemite grapes, peaches and nectarines National Park. at a roadside stand in Lone Pine
girlfriend, Mackenzie, but doesn't mind checking out the attractive young ladies we encounter, though shyly and from a distance. He is amazingly open, answering anything I ask. He confides that his sisters worry that their father's warped sense of humor will rub off on him during the long trip. (It has.) "I wouldn't mind having to spend six months of the year camping here:' Henry says of the host's job when he returns. He has also learned that California Sen. Barbara Boxer owns one of the beautiful mountainside cabins adjacent to our campground. The host said he had seen a bear cub CLEVELAND
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When we pull into the Tuolumne Meadows campgrounds at Yosemite, the
done, so I hope it will stay that way when I get home, so I have a better year in school." The cleanup continues for several hours. By the afternoon, however, Henry needs to take a nap. Overall, he's done pretty well, but the trip has begun to take a toll. Henry's ankles are swelling from long periods of driving, which he finally addresses by calling Dr. Moskowitz, who phones in a prescription for a diuretic to alleviate the condition. "I've had days on this trip that I haven't felt as well;' Henry laments. "But I'm also very stimulated from being outdoors and seeing the phenomenal sites. Of course, I want this trip to be special for Henny." In Cleveland,
dad always buys two of everything;' Henny observes. Henny's versatility on the ranger at the gate the past year I've exclaims, "Bitchin' bus, man!" trip has been impressive, Henry parlays this instant con- gotten really lazy," working as second-in-command and medic in charge of nection with Ranger Brady, a says Henny the first-aid kit, ensuring his fellow Westy connoisseur, to Zimmerman father takes his twice-daily get us a secluded campsite regimen of numerous pharnext to a river. We dub it "The (shown here in Presidential Suite." To show his maceuticals. He's also done the Mono Lake and majority of the lifting, carryappreciation, Henry later asks ing and hitching/unhitching of Brady about his favorite beer. Emerald Bay of the trailer from the van. His The ranger replies, "Oh, no. I really can't. We're not allowed Lake Tahoe, Calif.). slender, but strong 5-foot-3 -porter." frame, shaped by years of "But on this trip, We stop at the bustling but junior hockey, has grown almost a foot over the past tiny park grocery store for I've been getting year. He's hoping to make the dinner supplies. Six pack of my work done, so varsity team when he moves to porter: $15. Ground meat: U.S.'s Upper School. $7.50. Three bottles of iced I hope it will stay "I've noticed over the past tea: $5.85. Bag of potato chips: that way when year I've gotten really lazy;' $4.50. The dismay of the Henny confides. "But on this earnest young junior ranger at I get home." trip, I've been getting my work the checkout counter as Henry
he's had days where he goes into the office for a few hours, goes home for a nap, then returns for a few hours. To mitigate this situation last year, he and three other brokers formed an innovative partnership that allows them to have more flexible schedules. On our third day in the park, the van does not start. Henry, a seasoned mechanic who has owned, operated or helped refurbish a diverse collection of vehicles ranging from an Alfa Romeo to a U.S.Army Jeep, has brought along an impressive array of tools and diagnostic equipment. A starter cable has broken, which means Henny and I must push the van so Henry can jump-start it. We head for the shuttlebus repair garage in YosemiteValley. From the old photos on the office wall, it looks like the immense woodshingled structure has been there for nearly a century. The shop is too back-
earlier, but it ran away when he startled it. All day, we've heard about recent bear attacks in the park. Though we've dutifully loaded our metal locker with food and scented products, Henny asks if he can sleep in the Alite with us so that we can wake him - you know, in case we spot a bear while he's asleep. I sack out in the van with Bucky. No bears. In the morning, we agree it's a PR hoax perpetrated by the National Park Service. The mosquitoes are far more menacing.
Yosemite National Park, Calif - June 28
purposely mispronounces the park name as "Yo-sem-ight": priceless. n our second day in Yosemite, our expedition leader makes an executive decision: The Westy needs to be cleaned. Henny begins digging through several weeks of road-trip detritus, including travel brochures, maps, empty cans and bottles, crumpled copies of USA Today, clothes, various dog paraphernalia, pamphlets from destinations along the way, inflatable pillows, compasses, flashlights and other camping equipment. "My
O
"I've noticed over
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_I logged to handle the repairs, but the mechanic at the front desk gives Henry the tools he needs to complete the project. For the next two hours, Henry guides Henny through the repair. When I come back from taking Bucky for a walk through scenic Yosemite Village, Henny emerges from beneath the van, wearing a head-lamp, wrench in hand, covered in dirt and grease. In short, he is a happy young man.
Lake Tahoe, Calif - July 1 On our way north to Lake Tahoe the next day, we stop at a roadside hamburger shack for dinner.
While Henny and I dig into our meals at a picnic table in the garden dining area next door, Henry stays with Bucky at the van. It doesn't take him long to find someone to talk to, however. "I enjoy watching Dad just go up to people and how open he is about everything;' Henny says, as we watch Henry engaging a table of diners. From one gentleman who is a resident of Lake Tahoe, Henry learns that we should stop at Grover Hot Springs, then camp at Emerald Bay when we reach the lake. Both are excellent recommendations. At Emerald Bay,we find a great campsite a quarter of a mile from the beach. Henry goes off to buy groceries, while Henny and I tramp down to the water. Henny, who says he wants to be an architect, builds a miniature arena in the sand. After lazing in the hot sun, we briefly venture into the chilly waters of the bay
Road Warriors
"After the heart surgery, it created a finiteness;' Henry says. - "one of the most photographed sites in the world;' we've been told, and we can see why. A chain of small beaches lines the sizable body of water's western edge while resort homes are sprinkled along the opposite bluffs. I'm heading home the next day, so
get to take my pills or whatever. It's not like I dwell on it all the time:' And Henny is reaching an important time in his life, too. "In the next couple of years, Henny's going to get into sports and girls;' Henry says. "So this could be my last chance to get him. "I wanted to see these places, too;' he adds. "You can see them in books or films, but there's no comparison to standing there and looking at them." On the way to the airport in Reno, we're bopping along to the B-52s, with Henny perched on the armrest between the two front seats. Before
when we return to the campsite, I sit down at our "In the next picnic table for one last good discussion with Henry. He couple of years, tells me the original idea for Henny's going the trip actually came up several years ago in a session with to get into sports his psychologist, who he was seeing to deal with the trauma and girls," says his from a devastating house fire father, Henry in 1994. She asked him if (shown, at left, camping and being outdoors was what he loved, why wasn't receiving a "hug" from he doing it? Henry was unable Henny at the Emerald to respond. After his heart attack, Bay campsite). Henry knew he needed to do something: "I thought to "S0 this could be myself, 'What am I going to do, my last chance to work until 60 or 65, then have two more years to enjoy life?' get him:' "I've also gotten to the point where, after the heart surgery, it created a finiteness;' he says. "So sometimes I for-
going back to work and school, respectively, the two still have many magnificent treasures of America to behold: the Pacific Coast Highway, the redwood forest, Mount St. Helen's, Glacier and Yellowstone national parks and Mount Rushmore to name a few. As if that weren't enough, they're already dreaming about buying an RV and heading for Alaska next summer. But right now, the road is open, the desert sun feels good on Henry's bones, and his son is laughing uproariouslyat one of his corny jokes. If only he could teach Bucky how to drive, life would be perfect. _ CLEVELAND
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