sticky nuts
Looooong stretches of time go by as you drive alone across the country. Mile after mile, hill after hill, time rolls on. There has always been a big deal with the open road and getting out there and seeing America, but those people that make that big deal have never really done any traveling and if they have, they were not strapped with a schedule to keep as they made their trip. I'm sure that there would probably be something really romantic about traveling just a few hundred miles at a time, stopping for indefinite periods and taking it all in; Tasting the local fare, meeting the locals, taking in the sites. I'm not sure there are many people that have the tolerance for such a lifestyle, but if there are some, good for you. I'm sure you're as pleased as punch right now. But for those that have to travel as a requirement, the open road poses a giant threat to all that you hold sacred and isn't the glory that books are written about.
The first few trips are lovely. You are seeing things you have never seen and there is a sense of achievement in seeing "North Dakota" for the first time. The second time, that enthusiasm has passed and now North Dakota is just a huge pasture that doesn't seem to end. That first trip is filled with new things and for the most part, that can be pretty cool, however the firsts start to be, all-the-times and it gets old too. You start to realize that there really is nothing new to a new place other than geography. People are generally the same, so are the towns they live in, etc. What's new is your opinions of it all.
Loooooong drives. You start to measure time and distance by the speed of the car-70 miles an hour means it will take me three hours to travel 210 miles, if I speed up to 80 miles an hour, it will take me... It will take me... Less time." I do this a lot with long drives now. Especially the one that takes me across Wyoming, something I have done thirty or so times. Always the same stretch of Interstate and I always stop at the same gas stations. There is a Love's truckstop in Cheyenne that is on I-25 a bit south of I-80 and there is a Love's truckstop in Rawlings where I usually eat and use the bathroom. Further down the road into Nebraska, I always stop in North Platte and have a coffee at the last good coffee house that is east of Washington state. ( for you mormon readers, coffee is that dark, hot stuff that comes from trees and hot water... devil's magic). There are no other "must stops" that I make on this stretch of road unless there is a good deal on porn in Rock Springs, WY but that takes up valuable driving time (stopping for thirty minutes is a loss of how many driving miles if I am traveling at 75 miles an hour, that means I will arrive at my destination... X - amount of time lost looking at discount porn bins.)
After 8 hours of driving you get driving dementia and things in your mind are no longer real. You and the car have become one and it seems to drive itself, keeping the speed up and staying on the road. There have been trips that I have taken that I can not remember the last three hours of the drive but somehow I made it to my destination. Those are scary moments. When road dementia takes over, your mind starts to work in a parallel universe. Your thought process that involves reason and logic take a back seat to hard core fantasy and delusion. In this space in your head are born the greatest plans for the rest of your life like, living in a tree house for the rest of your life and just eating peanut butter cups for nourishment or figuring out a way to speed up the child delivery process by having expectant mothers jump off a table and land flat footed thus expelling the baby quickly. The umbilical cord will act as a bungee cord, keeping the child from danger. I am also fond of figuring out complex math equations in my head at these times. I can almost make sense of every decision made by a human ever, when I have been driving for 9 hours. The longer the trip, the deeper the dementia. After 11 hours of driving, you can fly and you are willing to prove it to anyone that asks you. 13 hours, you're invisible.
I completed this second leg of my trip in 20 long, fun filled, I pod listening hours, arriving in Kansas City at 1 in the morning. Needless to say, I cured cancer, balanced the US budget, wrote three books, composed a symphony made up completely of me blowing raspberries (two movements), redesigned the weight distribution of my house, organized the cells in my eyeball and figured out who killed JFK. I was made of gold, not that you could tell... I can fly and I'm invisible.
Somewhere in hour 14 or so, I ran into the Midwest. Road dementia and the Midwest is just a recipe for disaster. There are just too many elements in this world that just should not mix at all, and these are two of them. I knew I was in the Midwest because the humidity of my childhood had returned; I heard cicadas, saw beautiful oak and willow trees and could smell the dirt that is so distinct in the Midwest. A soft smell of dirt filled with moisture and "animal". I also ran into some locals... And that is really the true, telling sign of the American Midwest. Without the people of the Midwest, none of what is thought about the Midwest would be true and everyone would live there.
Large land mammals wearing sleeve-less shirts and biker shorts that were probably capris at one time. Their hair is kinda messy, and their teeth are... Interesting. Marlboro's in one hand, Mountain dew in another. There is a long beaded keychain that is dangling between the pack of cigarettes and the fingers which seems to larger than the pack of cigarettes. Surprising for reason that I can't explain. Flip flops on their feet and to add a touch of class and make themselves sexy, they wore the ones with sparkles on them. Next to them is their physical polar opposite. Their mate. Rail thin. Tight jeans. A black tee shirt with a young Indian maiden on the front. Her hair lightly blowing across her face. Superimposed over her head is a picture of a grey wolf, looking very serious and mythic. Written below the images is a simple phrase, GOD BLESS THE USA.
Again, this is hour 14. I see a marshmallow and a toothpick walking together into a gas station and that tee shirt sends my mind in so many different directions I don't know which thought to start with and I am worried that if I don't pick wisely I will lose one of these juicy thoughts and I don't want to lose one precious moment of thinking about this.
American Indian.... Hair in the breeze... Grey wolf... GOD BLESS THE USA.... Both of these images were pushed almost to the point of extinction by Americans who looked just like these two walking into this gas station and they were almost annihilated for the same reason that these two are walking into the gas station. I love Irony.
Again, hour 14.
Humidity is a tricky thing. If you sweat a lot there is a good chance that your body is going to make a sweat paste and glue your body parts together. Especially those parts that are pretty close together in the first place. On men... Well... I don't need to tell you where this strikes us. Let's just say, you don't want to be putting YOUR body anywhere near those parts at times like this. On women, I don't want to know. But I know some women who have put powder between the bottom part of their tit to keep it from sticking to their stomach.
So with my nuts stuck to my thigh, my head full of natives, white trash marshmallows and the gross national product... I have arrived. Give me a day to eat some BBQ and I will return to form.
Thank you for all of your warm words of support as I drive across the country, it doesn't help, but it's nice to know that you don't want me dead.
The first few trips are lovely. You are seeing things you have never seen and there is a sense of achievement in seeing "North Dakota" for the first time. The second time, that enthusiasm has passed and now North Dakota is just a huge pasture that doesn't seem to end. That first trip is filled with new things and for the most part, that can be pretty cool, however the firsts start to be, all-the-times and it gets old too. You start to realize that there really is nothing new to a new place other than geography. People are generally the same, so are the towns they live in, etc. What's new is your opinions of it all.
Loooooong drives. You start to measure time and distance by the speed of the car-70 miles an hour means it will take me three hours to travel 210 miles, if I speed up to 80 miles an hour, it will take me... It will take me... Less time." I do this a lot with long drives now. Especially the one that takes me across Wyoming, something I have done thirty or so times. Always the same stretch of Interstate and I always stop at the same gas stations. There is a Love's truckstop in Cheyenne that is on I-25 a bit south of I-80 and there is a Love's truckstop in Rawlings where I usually eat and use the bathroom. Further down the road into Nebraska, I always stop in North Platte and have a coffee at the last good coffee house that is east of Washington state. ( for you mormon readers, coffee is that dark, hot stuff that comes from trees and hot water... devil's magic). There are no other "must stops" that I make on this stretch of road unless there is a good deal on porn in Rock Springs, WY but that takes up valuable driving time (stopping for thirty minutes is a loss of how many driving miles if I am traveling at 75 miles an hour, that means I will arrive at my destination... X - amount of time lost looking at discount porn bins.)
After 8 hours of driving you get driving dementia and things in your mind are no longer real. You and the car have become one and it seems to drive itself, keeping the speed up and staying on the road. There have been trips that I have taken that I can not remember the last three hours of the drive but somehow I made it to my destination. Those are scary moments. When road dementia takes over, your mind starts to work in a parallel universe. Your thought process that involves reason and logic take a back seat to hard core fantasy and delusion. In this space in your head are born the greatest plans for the rest of your life like, living in a tree house for the rest of your life and just eating peanut butter cups for nourishment or figuring out a way to speed up the child delivery process by having expectant mothers jump off a table and land flat footed thus expelling the baby quickly. The umbilical cord will act as a bungee cord, keeping the child from danger. I am also fond of figuring out complex math equations in my head at these times. I can almost make sense of every decision made by a human ever, when I have been driving for 9 hours. The longer the trip, the deeper the dementia. After 11 hours of driving, you can fly and you are willing to prove it to anyone that asks you. 13 hours, you're invisible.
I completed this second leg of my trip in 20 long, fun filled, I pod listening hours, arriving in Kansas City at 1 in the morning. Needless to say, I cured cancer, balanced the US budget, wrote three books, composed a symphony made up completely of me blowing raspberries (two movements), redesigned the weight distribution of my house, organized the cells in my eyeball and figured out who killed JFK. I was made of gold, not that you could tell... I can fly and I'm invisible.
Somewhere in hour 14 or so, I ran into the Midwest. Road dementia and the Midwest is just a recipe for disaster. There are just too many elements in this world that just should not mix at all, and these are two of them. I knew I was in the Midwest because the humidity of my childhood had returned; I heard cicadas, saw beautiful oak and willow trees and could smell the dirt that is so distinct in the Midwest. A soft smell of dirt filled with moisture and "animal". I also ran into some locals... And that is really the true, telling sign of the American Midwest. Without the people of the Midwest, none of what is thought about the Midwest would be true and everyone would live there.
Large land mammals wearing sleeve-less shirts and biker shorts that were probably capris at one time. Their hair is kinda messy, and their teeth are... Interesting. Marlboro's in one hand, Mountain dew in another. There is a long beaded keychain that is dangling between the pack of cigarettes and the fingers which seems to larger than the pack of cigarettes. Surprising for reason that I can't explain. Flip flops on their feet and to add a touch of class and make themselves sexy, they wore the ones with sparkles on them. Next to them is their physical polar opposite. Their mate. Rail thin. Tight jeans. A black tee shirt with a young Indian maiden on the front. Her hair lightly blowing across her face. Superimposed over her head is a picture of a grey wolf, looking very serious and mythic. Written below the images is a simple phrase, GOD BLESS THE USA.
Again, this is hour 14. I see a marshmallow and a toothpick walking together into a gas station and that tee shirt sends my mind in so many different directions I don't know which thought to start with and I am worried that if I don't pick wisely I will lose one of these juicy thoughts and I don't want to lose one precious moment of thinking about this.
American Indian.... Hair in the breeze... Grey wolf... GOD BLESS THE USA.... Both of these images were pushed almost to the point of extinction by Americans who looked just like these two walking into this gas station and they were almost annihilated for the same reason that these two are walking into the gas station. I love Irony.
Again, hour 14.
Humidity is a tricky thing. If you sweat a lot there is a good chance that your body is going to make a sweat paste and glue your body parts together. Especially those parts that are pretty close together in the first place. On men... Well... I don't need to tell you where this strikes us. Let's just say, you don't want to be putting YOUR body anywhere near those parts at times like this. On women, I don't want to know. But I know some women who have put powder between the bottom part of their tit to keep it from sticking to their stomach.
So with my nuts stuck to my thigh, my head full of natives, white trash marshmallows and the gross national product... I have arrived. Give me a day to eat some BBQ and I will return to form.
Thank you for all of your warm words of support as I drive across the country, it doesn't help, but it's nice to know that you don't want me dead.
posted by Daniel Loomis | 12:50 PM
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