Road Trippin'

I am a serial road tripper. There is something deep within me that makes a 5,000 mile round trip seem like a great idea. Based on the responses I get — why don’t you just fly? — I know I’m an uncommon individual in my road traveling wanderlust. Maybe its my awe for the vastness of the United States, and the bond I have forged with this land by seeing so much of it at eye level. I love to drive, but I can’t go on infinitely.

As a human I need my breaks, and over the past decade, and some 50,000 miles of road tripping, I have taken my fair share. When my mind wasn’t completely lost to the murmur of the road passing under my wheels, or the hundreds of miles of long white lines, I made a point to take notes. Some of those notes were reminiscent of someone slipping into pure madness, but a few of them are worth sharing. That’s the purpose of this piece.

Brace yourself… There will be ramblings — and even some crude poetry.

September 2006 - leaving home for California

This is a gem. It’s so full of optimism and hope that one needs no more evidence as to why I decided to leave my quaint town in Wisconsin for the bright city lights of Southern California. Dreams will drive you (over 2k miles).

This task — the unenviable departure from home — has long been done, by a great number of people. These people march on into the night, soar in silver eagles, and drive towards the horizon. Forever they chase the sun; they chase a future, an idealized dream. The success rate is mediocre, but the drive, the yearning, it’s an American thing. It’s sacrifice. It’s the hunt for a destiny; a manifest destiny; an American Dream.

May 2007 - driving back to Wisconsin… by myself

This was an especially lonely voyage. When I left for Wisconsin I had a fresh wound on my foolish teenage heart, and I had over 2,000 miles of road to think about it. I did some serious self-examination on that drive.

Dreams are elusive.

They change with the wind.

as do goals.

They are intertwined.

When they start to piece themselves together they become clearer.

When an objective is within reach the yearning for achievement becomes stronger.

What at first seemed like an unreachable mountain summit becomes a possibility.

When you finally reach the top, it’s a great feeling.

What comes after the decent?

The next mountain.

September 2007 — summer is over, so it’s time to head west again

Reinvigorated by a summer of mid-western living, and a little more ready for adulthood, I found myself thinking about that American dream stuff again.

Side note: Are you ever ready to leave your family some two thousand miles behind you for life in a strange world? The idea is easier for some than others. Time would prove for me that I would never be ready for such a scenario, now that I have returned to Wisconsin for good.

An ocean of corn moves by the window, locking the brain into a trance. It’s a familiar sight, but a whole new world awaits on the west coast.

Move on, that’s what we do. In the pathways we choose, we discover things about ourselves. These journeys are essential because without them we wouldn’t learn all that we are capable of. We push off from the nest into the amber waves of grain, over the mountains, and, if were lucky, we reach the sea just in time for the sun to set.

It’s hard to fathom just what we are on this earth to do. In America its an ideal that drives us towards prosperity (in theory). The meaning of life, on a deeper scale, isn’t measurable. The struggle to come to peace with the meaning of human existence could easily drive a person to madness. Yet, we still ask why? We wonder of heaven; and consequently, hell.

Instead of wondering about how to get to such a place, why not make an effort to establish your own heaven on earth. It can be many things; perhaps it’s chocolate. That one, for many, comes easy. Maybe heaven can be described as a moment in time. More so, it may be a fond recollection.

Things like going fishing, camping, and going on trips often generate a smile, as well as some epic stories. It’s in these recollections that a person can find a heaven on earth.

It’s like I was writing a farewell letter to my friends. Little did I know at the time (I was still 19) that they would all grow up, have families, and all but forget about me. I guess a little narcissism is just part of being 19?

Four tips for not being a jerk on US 101

Let’s just chalk this one up to having a rough day on a world famous ribbon of concrete and blacktop. Having once destroyed a stray plastic lawn chair, and having also dodged no less than seven ladders in my time on the 101, I feel I am justified in my angst over that highway.

It’s not cool to drive 45 MPH on the 101 (when the speed limit is 65)

It’s also not cool to merge into heavy traffic at the top speed of 40 mph (speed limit is still 65)

Things like ladders and shop brooms have no place in the fast lane… Please buy a strap

If your VW bus is an old piece of junk, stay off of the freeway (I could taste that sweetly ironic hippie exhaust)

An Ode to my river phase

Yes, you can have a river phase. From time to time I get tangled up in a good metaphor, and then I have write about it. I wrote this after crossing the Mississippi river one night. I couldn’t see it, but I knew it was there, and it certainly fired my hair-trigger imagination.

What do you see in this murky water, which happens to be so filthy you can’t safely swim in it? I see a majesty and beauty that goes deeper than the slimy rock covered bottom. The river is the ultimate metaphor for time and life. The water comes, and then it goes. People often wonder what the meaning of life is, well, what’s the meaning of the river?

My next phase — driving to nowhere

I got caught up in a moment or two, and before I knew it I was on to my next phase of near obsession. It got to the point where I would take three small trips a week into the mountains (an advantage to getting off work at 3PM in the summer). I would just take my car and wander down some byways without any sense for where I wanted to go. I saw a new road, and I took it. GM’s short lived ‘Find New Roads’ campaign must have resonated with me, as it was about that time that I indeed sought new roads.That’s all of the recycled musings I can take for now. Maybe there will be a second installment if people actually enjoy this. For me, putting this oddity together was a blast, because I got to look in the rear view mirror (so to speak) on some great memories.

Sometimes a guy needs to get lost — lost in the world by leaving behind the nuances of progress and an insatiable desire to climb the ladder. I did just that today. I found a big red rock in the middle of nowhere. On my big red rock the wind is mighty, the view is beyond words, and the piece of mind is soul cleansing. John muir said that getting lost in nature would be exactly that — soul cleansing — but words only go so far in describing the mood on my big red rock. I could exhaust the superlatives in every language and still not come close to painting the picture I see, because its more than a sight. It encompasses all known senses and more. All problems, sorrows, and pains are left behind somewhere along the roadside or carried away with the wind. Their existence is forbidden on my big red rock.

That’s all of the recycled musings I can take for now. Maybe there will be a second installment if people actually enjoy this. For me, putting this oddity together was a blast, because I got to look in the rear view mirror (so to speak) on some great memories.