Leaving
I was really sad to leave the northeast. Some people have a gravity to them that makes it hard to separate from. I'd started getting closer to a bunch of people back there, and now I won't be seeing them again for a while. It really felt like a short but significant chapter of my life was ending.
The weather didn't help. It was cold and rainy and I didn't see the sun for most of the day. I plowed through Connecticut teary eyed. Through New York countryside quiet and reflective. I hit Pennsylvania and started listening to Bullshit Jobs by David Graeber. Pennsylvania is a pretty state, all rolling forested mountains with low mist clouds hugging the hills. You can look down on this fog sometimes when the highway takes a bridge over a valley. Sometimes a small Appalacian town is tucked away down there, glowing in yellow lights as night falls early.
Anyways, I was feeling a bit more clear-headed as I got Pennsylvania behind me, and celebrated making it to Ohio with a solo-dinner at Senor Jalapenos in Youngstown. The Thursday night football game was on. I got a $3 beer and a whole bowl of chips and salsa to myself. After dinner I brushed my teeth in their bathroom and popped down the highway to a Cracker Barrel parking lot and slept. I had a vivid dream I was with friends in LA and the big one hit. Their apartment shook and tilted back and forth for a minute or more. When I woke up the next morning I wondered if someone had shaken my van in the night. Unlikely but possible.
Another full day of freeway driving. Appalachia transitioned to sparse Ohio forests which transitioned to farmland. More and more farmland. The boringness of Indiana. I pulled up to an LA Fitness in Lansing, Illinois. South of Chicago. Sketchy area? There was a cop parked at the entrance to the gym. The lot was full of cars with broken parts. Not the nicest gym but I've seen worse. Exercise felt great and showering felt even better.
I hit the road, trying to cross one more state before the day was out. I almost peed my pants by the birthplace of Reagan. I felt ok all day, but as the sun began setting in front of me behind a sky smattered in small clouds, the entire world became so beautiful that I forgot who I was. I was just nature witnessing, and I was grateful.
Night had fallen by the time I crossed the Mississippi. The Mississippi is a serious river, wide, with the fancily-lit I-80 bridge a bit north of me. I always feel like a bigger deal should be made about it. There are no pulloffs, nowhere to look out on the river and reflect on it. At least not off the highway. My van’s check-oil light had come on earlier. I eased my van into the back corner of a Walmart lot, crawled into the back, made a peanut butter sandwich, and passed out. Two dreams this night. In one, I was on a supervised tour of a significant archeological/geological site, but a friend took out binoculars he wasn't supposed to have and our guide went to summon authorities to remove us. In the second dream it was my birthday, and all my friends were in a parade, saying nice things and emanating good loving vibes. I'm paranoid about being removed from this parking lot and I miss my friends.
Another morning. Walmart can't do my engine maintenance so I gingerly hit the road again. I finish the jobs book and start on the coyote book. I get to Lincoln at 3pm, and I am with a friend again. It's a perfect fall day, and the whole city is at or paying close attention to the Nebraska Cornhuskers game. We walk through campus and can hear the roar of the crowd before the stadium is in sight. Memorial Stadium is the third-largest city in the state today. We eventually find a nice patio table at a restaurant downtown to get dinner. The buildings are all low and brick; you can tell this was a frontier town. Nebraska wins with a last second field goal, and everyone around celebrates. Everyone. It is a city of unity if nothing else. The rest of the night is chill. Just a chill fall Saturday.
Another morning, another day on the road. Nebraska tested my patience but eventually I made it to sweet Colorado. Out of the police-states, for now. Another 2.5 hours before I finally see the mountains. I whooped with joy. I'm a little crazy at this point. Pull into Denver, a fruitless walk to Broadway, another peanut butter sandwich. Another night. The east coast is so far away now. I'm back to my independence. Ultimately, I find I can be happy anywhere. And I can do short periods alone. I'm looking forward to being with friends again, but I also worry about losing myself to people-pleasing in those environments. It's just a matter of getting out of the city a lot.
—
Song: Go Wherever You Wanna Go by Patty Griffin. This was playing as I melted into the Illinois sunset