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 togetheron a 9,OOO-mileodyssey around America in a

1982 VW Vanagon.

s has been his custom for the past 30-some years,i Henry A. Zimmerman III greets his childhood

chum with a prank. This time, he is standing inthe baggage-claim area of Las Vegas-McCarran Interna-tional Airport and the caper is perpetrated by his cur-rent accomplice, Henry A. "Henny" Zimmerman N, 12,who holds up a sign that reads, "Welcome Johnson" as Iapproach. The intentional misspelling of my name, atradition among my closest high-school friends, stemsfrom my adamant corrections of any teacher who mis-pronounced it.

Of course, Henry has the financialwherewithal to afford such an excursion.(He estimates an average cost of $120 perday.) He comes from an affluent family.His father, Henry II, now retired, was apioneering cardiologist at St. VincentCharity Hospital, the first in the world tocatheterize the left side of the heart. Asan adult, Henry's earned a good buck asa stockbroker.

But his life has been interrupted byseveral dangerous detours. At 16, Henrycontracted systemic lupus erthematosus,a chronic autoimmune-system disorderin which the body attacks its owntissue and organs,

_I Road Warriorseases, making it tough to diagnose. Andpeople with lupus are more susceptible toinfection because the necessary medicineslower their immune response.

"Henry is remarkably unselfish in howhe handles his illness, so that it has mini-mal impact on his family:' Moskowitzobserves. "He continues to do things likethis trip, even at reasonable risk to him-self, because he loves his family."

On June 7, Henry and Henny departedtheir Pepper Pike home in a 1982Volks-wagen Westphalia Vanagon (christened

years of steroid-based medication, but histoothsome smile under a mop ofdisheveled black hair and the joy in hisvoice testify that he is having a great time.

"I've already told my family that I'mdropping out to live on the road:' heremarks as we head toward the parkinggarage.

There, the other key member of thissummer expedition waits patiently forus in the driver's seat of the van: Buck-wheat ("Bucky"). The name stems fromHenry's love of "The Little Rascals:' Athome, Bucky, a chocolate Labrador

retriever, serves as a companion toSpanky, the

"When Henry was"Westy"), towing a 400-poundAlite A-frame camper trailer. Zimmermans'

including the joints, kid- 16, 90 percent of When I arrive at the air- miniature bull terrier.neys, heart, lungs, brain,

the people whoport on Monday, June 24, to "I couldn't be without a dog:' Henry

blood or skin. In August 2000, join them for a one-week leg says, adding in a falsetto voice, "I wish Ihe suffered a massive heart got lupus were of their trip, they are roughly could teach you how to drive, Buckyl"attack, attributable in part to a third of the way into their In fact, this trip was greatly inspiredthe cumulative effects of dead within five seven-week,9,301-mile by John Steinbeck's "Travels with Char-lupus, and survived a triple

years," saysodyssey throughout the cen- lie:' which chronicles the author's jour-

bypass operation. tral and western United States. ney throughout the West in a customizedDr. Roland Moskowitz, a Henry's father, They look it. Henny, who camper truck with his pooch, Charlie.

rheumatologist at University shaved his head before leav- While I'm sure Charlie fared well on hisHospitals who has taken care Dr. Henry ing, now sports short stubble. trek with his literary master, he hadof Henry since he first became Zimmerman. He has been wearing the same nothing on Bucky.

c;

ill, explains that, though treat- T-shirt from University Pulling out of the airport, our first ro

"Now, Henny will ~able, lupus represents a sword School, where he is a seventh- destination is not Death Valley,as I had '"Eof Damocles for patients. They grader, for several days. thought, but PetSmart. Bucky has not E

have something to N

might be well for a long time, Henry, also in days-old attire, been handling the lOS-degree heat of the e-c

but then a severe flare-up can remember for the exhibits vestiges of the disease Nevada desert well. We are in search of '":r:affect their kidneys, heart or he has endured since we were any device that may keep him cool, even- '0

rest of his life." c-,

central nervous system. not-so-holy sophomores at tually stumbling upon the Canine ~Symptoms oflupus, which (At right, Christopher Gilmour Academy in Gates Cooler, a plastic sleeping mat that can be ~

0u

can range from mild to life- Mills back in the early '70s. He filled with cold water.Johnston with his 0

threatening, often mimic the looks heavy and his face is It's a simple detour. But it reveals that ;:;.c

symptoms ofless serious dis- dark red, a side effect from Bucky is not just their dog. And Henry c.travel companions) w

>ro,::

58 OCTOBER 2002

and Henny are not just vacationers, notjust Americans claiming their rightfulpiece of Manifest Destiny and hustling tothe next museum, landmark or nationalpark. No, this is life on the road. Thepurpose of this trip is to explore the areasthey visit in leisurely fashion, chat withthe natives, take a hike, take a swim.Whatever.

"They did not want to have a pre-booked, preplanned, have-to-be-here-on-a-certain-day feeling to their trip;' Henry'swife, Lydia, later explains, having beenrebuffed every time she suggested makingreservations at a popular campsite.

Other than deciding to makea southern-to-

~:::ggggg"""'n~(orthern loop, Henryleft the routing entirely to Henny. "He'sdone a great job getting us around;'relates the proud papa. "I don't evenquestion him:'

Pahrump, Nev. - June 24Rolling into Pahrump, we are greeted

by a sign: "Welcome to the New OldWest." We drive around for a couplehours, looking for a good spot to stay thenight, and end up in an RV park that islittle more than a parking lot.

Henry has discovered that the desertcasinos rustle up gamblers with thepromise of a cheap dinner. Our mission,then, becomes to find the cheapest rib-eye, T-bone or strip steak. We head to thepost office for guidance and to sendhome the spoils of the road.

In today's package, Lydia, the expedi-tion's spiritual guide and archivist, willfind several rolls of film; guidebooks and

_I Road WarriorsDVDs about Bryce Canyon, the GrandCanyon and Zion National Park; a Ziplocbag containing unidentified black goopthat Henny discovered; various gifts forthe family such as key chains for Emily, asenior at Orange High School; hat pinsfor Lucy,a sophomore at HathawayBrown School; as well as some never-to-be-worn T-shirts for the girls. Findinganything with Lydia'sname on it hasbecome a quest, since they've been unableto locate even a mug adorned with herold-fashioned moniker. (A week later inSan Francisco, they will purchase a heart-

shaped necklace with a piece ofrice inside with Lydia'snamewritten on it by an artist.)

"Their idea of what wewould like and our idea don'tcoincide;' Lydia notes. "Butit's always fun to get a packagefrom different places:'

A few hours later, we pullinto the parking lot at theMountain View Casino/Bowl-inglDining establishment. Theexterior exudes all the warmthand architectural charm of awarehouse with palm trees.We enter through the casinoand stroll past elderly patronsmechanically feeding the slotmachines, then past elderlypatrons mechanically feedingthemselves at the bar. In fact,when we enter the restaurantbehind Madge, our elderlyhostess, the median age in the

room drops significantly.As we tuck into our $4.95 T-bones,

the conversation turns to what Henryand Henny have enjoyed most about thetrip so far. They did take at least one ofLydia's suggestions, stopping in Hydro,Okla., to visit the late service station/diner owner Lucille's ("Mother of theMother Road") museum of fabled Route66. They also loved the narrow canyonhike at Zion National Park. And BryceCanyon, Utah, was memorable, exceptfor the guy who wanted to punch Henrybecause he mistook the affable Bucky'sbounding toward his French poodle as an

attack. First, Henry castigated him forswearing 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 Sacra-

mento-to-Spokane

leg of the trip.

"But by about 8 at

night, I was ready

to kill them."

12-year-old. Then, heshowed him the angry purplescar in the center of his chestthat demarcates his heartsurgery.

On the trip, Henry's healthhas remained good. Strollingout of the restaurant, he saysthat for the first time since thesurgery he has not experiencedthe shortness of breath andexcessivefatigue that oftenkeeps him from working.Although he has to avoid pro-longed exposure to the sun,which can aggravate his illness,the desert heat has actuallyhad an unexpected therapeuticeffect on his arthritis.

Knowing how everyoneworries about his health, Hen-ry's initial instinct was to hide

CLEVELAND 59

his travel plans and his purchase lastsummer of a used Westy when he foundit in the Tradin' Times and haggled theowner down from $10,000 to $6,000. Hereplaced the engine and refurbished thebrakes, then secreted it in the parkinggarage at his office until one day that fall,when he woke up Henny and took himto see the van. They got it tuned up andwashed and had a stereo system andsatellite radio installed.

When the rest of Henry's familyfinally learned of his plans, they weren'tas surprised as he expected.

His father, Dr. Zimmerman, thinks thetrip is tremendous. "WhenHenry was

16, 90 percent of the peoplewho got lupus were deadwithin fiveyears;' he notes."Now, Henny will have some-thing to remember for the restof his life."

Death Valley, Calif -June 25

When asked about DeathValley,practically everyone inLas Vegas and Pahrumpresponds with: "Why on earthwould you want to go there?Just drive outside of town forfive minutes and you'll see thesame thing."

Instead, the stark and end-less beauty of Death Valley'slandscape - sandy, dottedwith rocks and sparse, scrubbyvegetation for miles - is

60 OCTOBER 2002

J Road Warriorsdaunting even in a car with a cooler fullof bottled water. Imagining the pioneerstrekking this vast stretch of desert thathovers around 130 degrees, with surfacetemperatures closer to 200 degrees -Henny wants to try frying an egg on theground, but they don't have any left -gives us new admiration for theircourage.

Bucky, however, is not faring as well.As I drive through the lowest point in thecontinental United States, at 280 feetbelow sea level, Henry and Henny pack

him with towels of

"They did not

want to have a

ice, encourage him to drinkand douse him with water.Finally, we stop at a gas sta-tion in Furnace Creek, whereHenry hoses off Bucky, thentakes him inside the air-con-ditioned office. Within min-utes, he's discussing dogs withone of the attendants, who isoriginally from Chesterland.

Although we drive throughan empty campsite nearby,which should tell us some-thing, we finally decide to stayat a motel, because a now-frantic Bucky is attempting toforce his way under the dash-board by Henry's legs.

"Oh, Bucky, I love you!"Henry chimes in a falsetto.Though I don't share thesame depth of fondness, theBuckster has landed us in anair-conditioned motel in

prebooked, pre-

planned, have-to-

be-here-on-a-

certain-day feeling

to their trip,"

Henry's wife,

Lydia, explains.

Stove Pipe Wells. (Back in the day,stovepipes were used to mark the loca-tion of wells in the nearby sand dunes.)The entire town seems to consist of a ser-vice station and general store across thestreet, and the motel: a series of single-story buildings with the office, theNugget Gift Shop, a pool, a covered patioand an Old West-style restaurant/bar.Even the employees reside in housingbehind the rambling complex. On eitherside are more mountains, sand, rocksand buckwheat (the plant kind) as far asthe eye can see.

Our favorite view, though, is theswimming pool, where we

lounge for a

couple of hours to soakaway a day's worth of desert heat. By9 p.m., still wearing the same shorts andT-shirts, Henry and Henny dry off ondeck chairs under a giant canopy, whileI remain up to my neck in water. Thethermometer above their heads registers124 degrees. Later, as we head to themotel's saloon-themed pub to grab aquick dinner, we agree that the inventorof air conditioning is an American herowho was robbed of a Nobel Prize.

Mount Whitney, Calif -June 26

Before leaving Death Valley,we driveback a mile or so to check out the sanddunes, one of seven such groupings in thevalley. Inquisitive Henny collects a samplein a small plastic tube. While riflingaround the van for a cap, he absentmind-edly tries to hold the tube with his teeth,spilling some into his mouth.

Over the next several days, he good-naturedly absorbs much grief for themishap. ("Hey, don't those rocks lookdelicious, sandboy?") Climbing back intothe van for our drive from the lowest tothe highest point in California, MountWhitney (14,494 feet above sea level),Henry spouts a new motto we've pickedup from a T-shirt at the Furnace Creekgift shop: "Hike or die, boys. Hike or die."

By early afternoon, despite alternatingstretches of engine-overheating inclinesand brake-smoking declines, we've madeit into California's High Sierra country.Ascending another steep switchback, wefind a campsite just 20 yards from asurging, snow-fed

mountain stream. Afterunpacking, we hike up the path along thestream. It's quickly apparent that neitherHenry or I can keep up with Henny andBucky. Somehow, out of breath, we makeit to the gift shop halfway up the trail forsome cold sodas.

Henry, hugging Henny, says, "We'recoming back in a couple of years to climbto the peak." Instead of hugging himback, Henny just grabs onto his father'sshirt. He's taken to this practice over thelast few months, since he accidentallybroke his father's rib while hugging himfrom behind. Henry's bones have grownprematurely brittle from osteoporosis,another side effect of three decades ofPrednisone use. Still, this does not stopthe two from these modified exchangesof affection that typically feature falsettoexchanges of "I love you, son" and "I loveyou, father."

~ Road Warriors

Yet, they can also be perfectly obnox-ious in their father/son routines, oftengoing out of their way to annoy eachother - or their guest.

A favorite is Henry's repeated rendi-tion of a bad song's chorus - such as"Lovin' You" by Minnie Ripperton, andHenny's immediate parroting of himwith a fabricated verse of his own. WhileI'm trying to navigate the steep hills lead-ing to Death Valley,Henry sits in front,toking a cigar (just like his father) andreading USA Today, while he and Hennyrepeat every sophomoric skit blasting

from a Bob and

Tom CD (such as "I Wanna BeYour Bra") or various tele-phone pranks from a JerkyBoys CD.

"I had a good time withthem, because they're like twopeas in a pod:' says Henry'ssister, Jane, who joins them inJuly for the Sacramento toSpokane, Wash., leg of thetrip. "But by about 8 at night,I was ready to kill them."

Around dusk, Henny cooksup our dehydrated spaghettiand lasagna. All day, the twohave regaled me with tales ofhow delicious these prepack-aged meals are. Instead, theytaste like sawdust in an Elmer'sglue reduction sauce. Fortu-nately,we also bought half awatermelon and some freshgrapes, peaches and nectarinesat a roadside stand in Lone Pine

at the base of the mountain.As night and the mosquitoes descend

on Mount Whitney, Henny and I write inour journals or read by the fire beforebed. Henry is off chatting with the camp-ground host. Henny is engrossed in"Black Hawk Down:' about the Ameri-can military debacle in Somalia, forschool. He recounts in great detail whathe's read so far.

We also discuss his eclectic taste inmusic, from the underground collegebands sister Emily has turned him on to,to rap artists Jay Z and Busta Rhymes, tosome of his dad's favorites, Iimi Hendrixand The Doors, which we've listened to

extensively in the van. He has a

The trip wasgreatly inspired

by "Travels with

Charlie," John

Steinbeck's

account of his

journey through

the West with his

dog, Charlie.

The Zimmermans'

pooch, Bucky,

discovered views

such as the one

overlooking

Tenaya Lake in

Yosemite

National Park.

girlfriend, Mackenzie, butdoesn't mind checking out theattractive young ladies weencounter, though shyly andfrom a distance. He is amaz-ingly open, answering any-thing I ask. He confides thathis sisters worry that theirfather's warped sense of humorwill rub off on him during thelong trip. (It has.)

"I wouldn't mind having tospend six months of the yearcamping here:' Henry says ofthe host's job when he returns.He has also learned that Cali-fornia Sen. Barbara Boxerowns one of the beautifulmountainside cabins adjacentto our campground. The hostsaid he had seen a bear cub

CLEVELAND 61

J Road Warriors

earlier, but it ran away when he startled it.All day, we've heard about recent bear

attacks in the park. Though we've duti-fully loaded our metal locker with foodand scented products, Henny asks if hecan sleep in the Alite with us so that wecan wake him - you know, in case wespot a bear while he's asleep. I sack out inthe van with Bucky. No bears. In themorning, we agree it's a PR hoax perpe-trated by the National Park Service. Themosquitoes are far more menacing.

Yosemite National Park,Calif - June 28

When we pull into the TuolumneMeadows campgrounds atYosemite, the

ranger at the gateexclaims, "Bitchin' bus, man!"Henry parlays this instant con-nection with Ranger Brady, afellow Westy connoisseur, toget us a secluded campsitenext to a river. We dub it "ThePresidential Suite." To show hisappreciation, Henry later asksBrady about his favorite beer.The ranger replies, "Oh, no. Ireally can't. We're not allowed-porter."

We stop at the bustling buttiny park grocery store fordinner supplies. Six pack ofporter: $15. Ground meat:$7.50. Three bottles of icedtea: $5.85. Bag of potato chips:$4.50. The dismay of theearnest young junior ranger atthe checkout counter as Henry

62 OCTOBER 2002

purposely mispronounces the park nameas "Yo-sem-ight": priceless.

On our second day in Yosemite,our expedition leader makes anexecutive decision: The Westy

needs to be cleaned. Henny begins dig-ging through several weeks of road-tripdetritus, including travel brochures,maps, empty cans and bottles, crumpledcopies of USA Today, clothes, various dogparaphernalia, pamphlets from destina-tions along the way, inflatable pillows,compasses, flashlights and other camping

equipment. "My

"I've noticed over

the past year I've

gotten really lazy,"

says Henny

Zimmerman

(shown here in

Mono Lake and

Emerald Bay of

Lake Tahoe, Calif.).

"But on this trip,

I've been getting

my work done, so

I hope it will stay

that way when

I get home."

dad always buys two of every-thing;' Henny observes.

Henny's versatility on thetrip has been impressive,working as second-in-com-mand and medic in charge ofthe first-aid kit, ensuring hisfather takes his twice-dailyregimen of numerous phar-maceuticals. He's also done themajority of the lifting, carry-ing and hitching/unhitching ofthe trailer from the van. Hisslender, but strong 5-foot-3frame, shaped by years ofjunior hockey, has grownalmost a foot over the pastyear. He's hoping to make thevarsity team when he moves toU.S.'sUpper School.

"I've noticed over the pastyear I've gotten really lazy;'Henny confides. "But on thistrip, I've been getting my work

done, so I hope it will stay that way whenI get home, so I have a better year inschool."

The cleanup continues for severalhours. By the afternoon, however, Henryneeds to take a nap. Overall, he's donepretty well, but the trip has begun to takea toll. Henry's ankles are swelling fromlong periods of driving, which he finallyaddresses by calling Dr. Moskowitz, whophones in a prescription for a diuretic toalleviate the condition.

"I've had days on this trip that I haven'tfelt as well;' Henry laments. "But I'm alsovery stimulated from being outdoors andseeing the phenomenal sites. Of course, I

want this trip to be special for Henny."In Cleveland,

he's had days where he goes intothe office for a few hours, goes home fora nap, then returns for a few hours. Tomitigate this situation last year, he andthree other brokers formed an innovativepartnership that allows them to havemore flexible schedules.

On our third day in the park, the vandoes not start. Henry, a seasoned mechanicwho has owned, operated or helped refur-bish a diversecollection of vehicles rangingfrom an AlfaRomeo to a U.S.Army Jeep,has brought along an impressive array oftools and diagnostic equipment.

A starter cable has broken, which meansHenny and I must push the van so Henrycan jump-start it. We head for the shuttle-bus repair garage in YosemiteValley.

From the old photos on the officewall, it looks like the immense wood-shingled structure has been there fornearly a century. The shop is too back-

logged to handle the repairs, butthe mechanic at the front deskgives Henry the tools he needs tocomplete the project. For thenext two hours, Henry guidesHenny through the repair. WhenI come back from taking Buckyfor a walk through scenic Yosemite Vil-lage, Henny emerges from beneath thevan, wearing a head-lamp, wrench inhand, covered in dirt and grease. Inshort, he is a happy young man.

_I Road Warriorsget to take my pills or whatever.It's not like I dwell on it all thetime:'

And Henny is reaching animportant 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 bemy last chance to get him.

"I wanted to see these places, too;' headds. "You can see them in books orfilms, but there's no comparison tostanding there and looking at them."

On the way to the airport in Reno,we're bopping along to the B-52s, withHenny perched on the armrest between

the two front seats. Before

"After the heart surgery,it created a finiteness;'

Henry says.

Lake Tahoe, Calif - July 1On our way north to Lake Tahoe the

next day, we stop at a roadside ham-burger shack for dinner.

While Henny and I dig intoour meals at a picnic table in the gardendining area next door, Henry stays withBucky at the van. It doesn't take him longto find someone to talk to, however.

"I enjoy watching Dad just go up topeople and how open he is about every-thing;' Henny says, as we watch Henryengaging a table of diners.

From one gentleman who is a resi-dent of Lake Tahoe, Henry learns thatwe should stop at Grover Hot Springs,then camp at Emerald Bay when wereach the lake.

Both are excellent recommendations.At Emerald Bay,we find a great campsitea quarter of a mile from the beach.Henry goes off to buy groceries, whileHenny and I tramp down to the water.Henny, who says he wants to be an archi-tect, builds a miniature arena in the sand.After lazing in the hot sun, we brieflyventure into the chilly waters of the bay

- "one of the most photographed sitesin the world;' we've been told, and wecan see why. A chain of small beacheslines the sizable body of water's westernedge while resort homes are sprinkledalong the opposite bluffs.

I'm heading home the next day, so

when we return to thecampsite, I sit down at ourpicnic table for one last gooddiscussion with Henry. Hetells me the original idea forthe trip actually came up sev-eral years ago in a session withhis psychologist, who he wasseeing to deal with the traumafrom a devastating house firein 1994. She asked him ifcamping and being outdoorswas what he loved, why wasn'the doing it? Henry was unableto respond.

After his heart attack,Henry knew he needed to dosomething: "I thought tomyself, 'What am I going to do,work until 60 or 65, then havetwo more years to enjoy life?'

"I've also gotten to thepoint where, after the heartsurgery, it created a finiteness;'he says. "So sometimes I for-

"In the next

couple of years,

Henny's going

to get into sports

and girls," says his

father, Henry

(shown, at left,

receiving a "hug" from

Henny at the Emerald

Bay campsite).

"S0 this could be

my last chance to

get him:'

going back to work andschool, respectively, the twostill have many magnificenttreasures of America tobehold: the Pacific CoastHighway, the redwood forest,Mount St. Helen's, Glacierand Yellowstone nationalparks and Mount Rushmoreto name a few.

As if that weren't enough,they're already dreaming aboutbuying an RV and heading forAlaska next summer.

But right now, the road isopen, the desert sun feelsgood on Henry's bones, andhis son is laughing uproari-ouslyat one of his corny jokes.If only he could teach Buckyhow to drive, life would beperfect. _

CLEVELAND 63