Road Trip Reflections
February 20, 2008 (7:41pm)
I am sitting in the sparsely furnished house I'm renting in Ta Fa with a glass of wine and, although I'm writing this for LJ, I won't be able to post until tomorrow morning as there is no wi-fi here (thank the Maker for my Treo-at least I can keep up to date on email)!
I drove in today for my gig in Ta Fa. I was all set to take my Beetle with it’s duct-taped crack near the broken headlight and the ominously blinking check engine light, but a friend suggested, well, forced me really, to take her Jaguar instead. She said she’d feel safer if I did. So, reluctantly, nobly (and for her benefit) I relented. (Reluctant my ass! The Jag has always been my dream car and this is a late model beauty with all the modern luxuries). I took the “short” route-only nine hours as opposed to, well, twelve. But I had been taking the longer route because it’s four lane freeways all the way, no windy roads (I’m hypnotized by them, they seem to actually move and undulate in a freakish way, a result, I think, of a bad acid trip in my youth. Anyway, I drive nervously, foot on the brake, slowly when I have to drive those roads at night) and, more importantly, uninterrupted cell phone signal.
The last time I checked the weather, sunny skies were predicted for the length of the trip but just past Raton, NM, it became very foggy. In it’s own way, that was good; my eyes were spared peering into the sun’s glare, and the visibility was still decent. Rather than being suffocating, it felt more like I was enveloped, gently and lovingly. The barren trees along the stretch of two lane highway I was on looked like wraiths in the mist, their branches leaning over the road (Menacingly, I might have said in a different mood, waiting to snatch cars up and fling them away, but that wasn’t the mood I was in) encouragingly, as if to give me a loving embrace before sending me on my way. (And yet, my heart longs for the sun-- my heart is a flower, closed tight against the cold, yet opening slowly in the sun's warm rays, making me think if the sun could just stay out long enough, if I just lived in Alaska or Norway or another of those places during the six months of almost total daylight, then perhaps, just perhaps, my heart could fully unfold, blossom once more, exposing even its most internal pale folds of vulnerability).
It was a different experience driving the Jag as opposed to the Bug. In the Bug, I often feel small and insignificant next to the 18 wheelers. Last time I drove it here, I texted a friend that I felt like the punctuation mark at the end of a sentence made up of a string of big trucks. Evidently , I was in a punctuation mood, because I texted the same friend later on, when the sky was dark that the dotted white lines flew up at me, like an ellipsis, reminding me of the unfinished story of my life.
But the Jaguar felt sleek and smooth under my touch, maneuvering skillfully through the windy roads and taking on the two lane highway like a personal challenge-albeit an easy one. I thought, this car looks good on me. :)
I found myself noticing the small towns through which I passed, marveling at their resiliency and spirit. I was in a reflective mode, as I often am on solitary road trips, eschewing the cell phone in favor of my own thoughts. I thought this day is made for me, the weather and earth is protecting me. As I drove on and the day lengthened, it seemed as if the road, the trees, and the eerie backlit fog were all opening before me, granting me safe passage. Even when the clock read 7 p.m. the sky was still light (albeit hidden in the clouds). I suppose it could be due to the fact that the days are getting longer, or the virtually full moon, but it seemed as if the elements had conspired to hold back the darkness that so blinds me when I drive.
I thought perhaps the moon was being shy, given her big performance of an eclipse tonight, hiding behind the silvery stage curtains until it was time. But she finally made an appearance right as I hit the Ta Fa city limits, giving me sidelong glances through the driver’s side window until finally she faced the road head on, bravely looking me in the eyes. She seemed to be a beacon over the place where I would rest, guiding me to my home away from home.
I got to the house with just enough time to unpack the car before heading back out to watch the beginning of the show. She seemed coy as the darkness covered her, as if to say, “don’t worry, I’ll be back.” And I knew she would. I knew she would. And in that moment, that was I needed to know to feel peace.
I am sitting in the sparsely furnished house I'm renting in Ta Fa with a glass of wine and, although I'm writing this for LJ, I won't be able to post until tomorrow morning as there is no wi-fi here (thank the Maker for my Treo-at least I can keep up to date on email)!
I drove in today for my gig in Ta Fa. I was all set to take my Beetle with it’s duct-taped crack near the broken headlight and the ominously blinking check engine light, but a friend suggested, well, forced me really, to take her Jaguar instead. She said she’d feel safer if I did. So, reluctantly, nobly (and for her benefit) I relented. (Reluctant my ass! The Jag has always been my dream car and this is a late model beauty with all the modern luxuries). I took the “short” route-only nine hours as opposed to, well, twelve. But I had been taking the longer route because it’s four lane freeways all the way, no windy roads (I’m hypnotized by them, they seem to actually move and undulate in a freakish way, a result, I think, of a bad acid trip in my youth. Anyway, I drive nervously, foot on the brake, slowly when I have to drive those roads at night) and, more importantly, uninterrupted cell phone signal.
The last time I checked the weather, sunny skies were predicted for the length of the trip but just past Raton, NM, it became very foggy. In it’s own way, that was good; my eyes were spared peering into the sun’s glare, and the visibility was still decent. Rather than being suffocating, it felt more like I was enveloped, gently and lovingly. The barren trees along the stretch of two lane highway I was on looked like wraiths in the mist, their branches leaning over the road (Menacingly, I might have said in a different mood, waiting to snatch cars up and fling them away, but that wasn’t the mood I was in) encouragingly, as if to give me a loving embrace before sending me on my way. (And yet, my heart longs for the sun-- my heart is a flower, closed tight against the cold, yet opening slowly in the sun's warm rays, making me think if the sun could just stay out long enough, if I just lived in Alaska or Norway or another of those places during the six months of almost total daylight, then perhaps, just perhaps, my heart could fully unfold, blossom once more, exposing even its most internal pale folds of vulnerability).
It was a different experience driving the Jag as opposed to the Bug. In the Bug, I often feel small and insignificant next to the 18 wheelers. Last time I drove it here, I texted a friend that I felt like the punctuation mark at the end of a sentence made up of a string of big trucks. Evidently , I was in a punctuation mood, because I texted the same friend later on, when the sky was dark that the dotted white lines flew up at me, like an ellipsis, reminding me of the unfinished story of my life.
But the Jaguar felt sleek and smooth under my touch, maneuvering skillfully through the windy roads and taking on the two lane highway like a personal challenge-albeit an easy one. I thought, this car looks good on me. :)
I found myself noticing the small towns through which I passed, marveling at their resiliency and spirit. I was in a reflective mode, as I often am on solitary road trips, eschewing the cell phone in favor of my own thoughts. I thought this day is made for me, the weather and earth is protecting me. As I drove on and the day lengthened, it seemed as if the road, the trees, and the eerie backlit fog were all opening before me, granting me safe passage. Even when the clock read 7 p.m. the sky was still light (albeit hidden in the clouds). I suppose it could be due to the fact that the days are getting longer, or the virtually full moon, but it seemed as if the elements had conspired to hold back the darkness that so blinds me when I drive.
I thought perhaps the moon was being shy, given her big performance of an eclipse tonight, hiding behind the silvery stage curtains until it was time. But she finally made an appearance right as I hit the Ta Fa city limits, giving me sidelong glances through the driver’s side window until finally she faced the road head on, bravely looking me in the eyes. She seemed to be a beacon over the place where I would rest, guiding me to my home away from home.
I got to the house with just enough time to unpack the car before heading back out to watch the beginning of the show. She seemed coy as the darkness covered her, as if to say, “don’t worry, I’ll be back.” And I knew she would. I knew she would. And in that moment, that was I needed to know to feel peace.