You said, “Let me know you’re alive once in awhile during your road trip.” I said, “You know what, why don’t I just BLOG about it?” And then you were like, “That’s not necessary,” but I didn’t hear that last part over the sound of AMERICA’S HEARTLAND!
This jabroni here *points thumbs* is driving from Los Angeles to New York for the next two weeks. So this is the start of a travel project, a.k.a. me combining my cross-country driving adventurethoughts with pop culture reflections (in keeping with the genre of this blog).
Here’s the itinerary – not including The World’s Biggest Rubber Band Ball or The Lost Cat Colony of New Mexico or whatever happens to tickle my fancy with well-placed road signs.
June 22-23: Flagstaff, AZ and The Grand Canyon
June 24: Moab, UT and Grand Junction, CO
June 25-27: Boulder, CO and Denver, CO
June 28: Wichita, KS
June 29-July 1: St. Louis, MO
July 2: Lake Hope, OH
July 3-5: Philadelphia, PA
July 6: New Fuckin’ York
(What goes East must go West – the end of August brings Part II: The Return).
This is definitely the biggest car trip I’ve ever undertaken, and about half of it will be solo. I won’t encounter any familiar faces till Boulder, and won’t pick up a travel companion till St. Louis. I’ve armed myself with a behemoth of a playlist, podcasts, and a small group of people who have begrudgingly agreed to take my calls. And luckily, as it happens, my singing voice is absolutely breathtaking in the acoustics of an empty vehicle. Here’s to discovery and the possibility of meet-cuting with new friends in random cities.
SO. I left this morning around 7 AM, bidding one last farewell to my barista and the city I love so much. Los Angeles, it’s late June and you were just getting good: sweet breezes and California sun that left me burned to a crisp this past weekend. It was a weird feeling to fight my way through Monday morning traffic down the 405, teething at my venti coffee like every other commuter, but actually ADVENTURING. LA was just trying to suck me back in with car congestion, tryna keep me from manifesting my destiny.
I was finally able to slam the pedal to the floor around Norwalk, where the freeway opened up to pleasant but underwhelming hills of dry brush. This was the case from So-Cal all the way to the Arizona state line, where the mountains finally started to get excited and sprout some proper forest. Honestly, I leave the city so rarely that any unpopulated landscape strikes me as God’s handiwork; today’s views were no exception and I never got tired of staring awestruck out the window, smiling, and wondering, “How many bodies are buried behind that majestic boulder?”
SPEAKING of the dead, I happened upon Ludlow, CA about 4 hours into my trip when I needed gas. It is a super scary and desolate ghost town with naught but an abandoned cafe, crumbling ruins, and a couple of burned-out vintage cars for good measure. I stretched my legs for awhile and desperately looked for tumbleweeds to fulfill my desert road trip fantasy. No luck. Just lost souls and scrub.
On my next gas stop, I stumbled across some quaintly named restaurants in Seligman, AZ (see pictures below), as well as an EXTREMELY old woman who sang “Spice Up Your Life” at me as I crossed the road. Keep in mind that I was wearing a Spice Girls shirt, but, ya know. I startle easy. Also drove past a car towing a small boat titled (I kid you not) the PRETTY PUNZ. Still regret not snapping a pic. Perhaps one day I shall sail a P.P. of my own on the ocean blue…
Seven and a half hours after I set out this morning, I concluded today’s first leg in the incredibly dry, hot, and sassy Flagstaff AZ. This town is basically like if half of Seattle was abducted and woke up in an enclosure in the middle of the desert, and then had to make do. Very colorful, artisanal, charming. Have spent the last couple hours strolling around downtown and sampling the local iced tea and ice cream selection. I’m a big fan of the Grand Canyon International Hostel, where I’m staying tonight and tomorrow night. So homey! My bunkmate Rebecca was moisturizing when I got back, and we just had a nice conversation about moisture, and lotion, and how important they are. I smell a new friend, and she in turn smells like shea butter.
Here’s my fave playlist selection, blasted today into the searing wind. “OH MY GOD I CAN’T BELIEVE IT, I’VE NEVER BEEN THIS FAR AWAY FROM HOME” is a great travel battle cry.
Tonight I’ll probably turn in early and watch the rest of True Detective, which I abandoned mid-episode last night. Guys, it’s not a good show. The ingredients on their own are wonderful: strikingly written single lines, sumptuous cinematography, performances that are visceral and dark and dragged from the best hidden corners of every actor (Vince Vaughn is really holding his own, who knew!). However, together…TD is television compost. All of HBO’s cast-off artistic garbage in an overwhelming heap that we all think is good for the environment. It takes itself very seriously and adds nothing innovative to the already heavily populated crime genre. Moreover, it’s all I have on Sunday nights now. Curse you, McConaughey! I think I need to start House of Cards finally, so I have something to return to on the road in moments of boredom and reflection.
Tomorrow I hit the Grand Canyon and find out how many licks it takes to get to the center of the earth. Good evening, friends!