Random Musings from the Road
· Golfers get golfer tans that end at the edge of their sleeves and necklines. Tennis players’ tans end at the edges of their socks, shorts or skirts and shirts. I’ve got a driver’s tan despite the liberal application of sunblock every morning and throughout the day. The left side of my face and neck and my left hand are reddened by the morning sun as I begin each day’s journey. The back of my left hand is darker than my right for the same reason. And since I wear long sleeves to keep the sun off my arms, the tan stops at my wrist.
· I brought several favorite audio books and a couple of new ones along for the ride. Among them is Charlotte’s Web read by E.B. White. I’ve taken it on road trips since first discovering it when I lived in Maine not far from White’s home. Another set of favorites that are always in the car during long road trips is a compilation of Lake Wobegon stories by Garrison Keillor. Among the newer ones that I’ve begun to listen to is William Least Heat Moon’s newest book, Road to Quoz. Known as Bill Trogden before he took on his literary name and when he taught us English at Stephens College back in the 1960’s, his first book, Blue Highways, has been in my library for many years. But I find that audio books and music are distractions while I’m on a road trip like this one. I want to be totally present for the journey. I want to notice the little things and absorb them completely: the turkey vulture sitting on a fence post, its red fleshy head swiveling to watch my car pass by; the sign on the dilapidated building that once housed the Pinto Bean Museum; the prairie dog skittering across the road; the jackrabbit hopping away through the field, its large ears alert; the rainstorms in the mountains far off on the horizon; the double rainbows that I drive under. I want to listen less and observe more as I drive along the dipping, curving two-lane byways.
· There are a lot of Europeans visiting the national parks. Families, couples and groups of friends from France, England and Germany seem to outnumber the Americans. Some rent RVs but most seem to rent SUVs and stay at the motels along their route. A few are traveling by motorcycle. They hike and take photos and crowd around the exhibits at the visitor centers and ask questions of the rangers. They sit next to me at the diners and local farm-to-table restaurants where I stop for lunch and dinner. I enjoy hearing their chatter in their native languages. This influx is probably the result of a weakened dollar but I enjoy seeing them experience the beauty of this country. They will go home with a new sense of America beyond the headlines. They’ll see the small towns, engage in conversations with the people they meet, drive through extraordinary landscapes unlike anything in the world. When I travel through their countries, I have similar experiences. And, I am made keenly aware that politics and people are not to be confused. They are distinctly separate. It’s one reason that so many individuals in countries that do not agree with American politics and its impact on their lives still dream of coming to America, the land of possibility and freedom. I am among the very lucky. I was born here and can freely express my political opinions. And while I do tend to catalog people by “red” or “blue”, when I travel on the back roads it all melts away and I see instead the patchwork quilt of beliefs and customs and history that define what we are as a country.
· I love a good biscuit for breakfast. Light, flaky, not too dry and not too “doughy.” I’m becoming a biscuit critic on this trip. So far, the best one is at the Twin Peaks Café in Bluffs, Utah. It was just right and didn’t even need the addition of butter to make it toothsome. Stop by when you’re in the neighborhood. And notice the sign as you turn into the café...
Every town has a road sign at the edge of the town noting when it was founded and the elevation or the population. Bluffs erected a sturdy sign recently that notes the year it was established - 640 A.D. The local Mormons are not happy. They arrived in the 19th century and founded the first community...which was actually more of a fort to keep out the Native Americans who weren't pleased when their land was taken from them. As such, the Mormons believe the date should coincide with their arrival, not that of the people whose presence on the plateau above the town can be traced to 1,200 years before.