Sic Semper Tyrannis

Great Road Trips I Have Known-Episode VI: City Under Siege

So, the last solo road trip I took was last summer, making a big rectangle shape over the western United States. I had really missed California and the ocean, so I planned on going there by way of Wyoming. Makes sense, right? As much as I loved California, the high plains of Wyoming and Montana have always intrigued me as well. In my head, cowboys and Indians and maybe dinosaurs still lived out in those vast open spaces and no one had bothered to check on it. In my head, Wyoming was just a big square of wilderness. Like I’ve said previously-something about getting out into the quiet, middle-of-nowhere really resonates the strings within me.

Traveling due north through New Mexico and Colorado into Wyoming was quite a departure for me, having never been any further north than, say, Colorado Springs or Green River, Utah-whichever is further. The landscape at the border of Colorado and Wyoming makes a pretty quick change from mountains and green to desolate yellow high grass, all the way to Cheyenne, which feels like an outpost on the edge of civilization, kind of like a “last chance” kind of thing. At that point I started driving west and didn’t stop until I hit the ocean.

One of the singular moments of the trip was in the desert of northern Nevada: the turn off for Highway 140 has a sign that says “No Services for 179 miles.” To call it a highway is kind of deceptive. It’s a road- a long, long road that unfolds in a straight line farther off into the curve of the earth than you can see. Obviously, these aren’t the kinds of places you see a bunch of people at any time, especially early in the afternoon in the middle of the week. So I just shifted the car into neutral and let it coast to a stop. And that was the place I pulled off the road, got the guitar out and serenaded the dead quiet desert with my bad singing. I don’t imagine the bugs and birds have ever heard those kinds of sounds before. Unless the rocks cry out like David says.

Of course, from that point, it’s another couple days of driving before coastline is a realistic thought. But driving south on Highway 1 from its’ start in northern California is a wonderfully varied visual experience-from the ancient redwood forests to the farmland that juts out right up to the ocean. The curvy, winding roads make you feel like you’re in a giant, daylong car commercial.

The last thing I did before heading back east to Lake Tahoe and, eventually, home, was a quick drive through wine country north of San Francisco.

Overall, I must say that this “what does it all mean?” trip was the least fulfilling. I didn’t lock eyes with one pleasant person, other than the girl who took my order at an In & Out Burgers in Davis, CA. I missed my friends and the comforts of home pretty sharply this time. I hate to admit it, but around the time I hit the boredom of eastbound Kansas in the rain, I had a vague hope that this was the last one of these trips. Secretly, (well, not so secretly now), I hoped that I am past the period of my life where I have this urge to exile myself as the lonely traveler. Secretly, I wanted to be bound for a more “traditional” role for myself-a role where I integrate well with people, maybe even have someone special to share experiences with.

We’ll see what becomes of all of that.

posted by Mike @ 2:36 PM