Day Two - Down the Rabbit Hole

The second day of a long trip is always markedly different than day one. Everything is a little less shiny, a little less magical. It doesn't help when everything out the window is flat and gray, covered with twisted, dead-looking trees and lonely, rundown looking buildings.

I passed a number of amusingly named things. Nameless Creek, Mount Comfort, Licking County. Alright, the last one is more disturbing than amusing, but you get the idea. I wonder if the people who invented those names knew that they would be passed down through the generations by spoken word at first but then put on an official metal sign on the side of a major highway. Probably not.

I also passed through Vandalia, OH, the birthplace of Wilbur Wright. Curious, I pulled off the road and followed the signs. I drove past small single-family homes, all of them well-kept and scrubbed clean looking, with shiny older cars sitting in their driveways. I have a five minute limit when it comes to things that I pull off to see: if it takes me longer than five minutes to get there, I turn around and go back to the freeway. Alas, nearly seven minutes of Ohio countryside later, I still had not found Wright's birthplace. How many birthplaces today are out in the middle of the countryside, further than seven minutes from the highway? Instead of roadside signs, will there be a plaque in the lobby of big shiny, renovated hospitals? Where's the fun in that? Or will we cease to care about the birthplace of our leaders, inventors, and creators. Sadly, I think we have already ceased to care. History books gloss over childhoods and give only the small sound bytes that our brains seem to care about.

Soon after I left Vandalia, the rain started. Slow and light at first, but soon, the water was covering my windshield in sheets. The water was so thick on the road that if I didn't follow the car or truck in front of me, I would lightly hydroplane. Delightful. There is something absurdly stressful about driving in the rain, especially when you can't see the lane lines on the road. For nearly an hour I drove on in the rain. Inara was quite intrigued by the frantic windshield wipers.

Then as I pulled up to St. Louis, MO with it's giant arch and big buildings, the rain stopped abruptly. The shining city on the river, freshly cleaned by the rainstorm. Of course, it was so early (especially with the time zone shift) that I was nowhere near ready to stop. So I drove on into the dark to Springfield, MO. Where I hung my hat in the crappiest little Ramada that you ever did see, with an internet connection out of the dark ages, and a view of a yard full of old truck tires. Ah, the glamorous midwest. The only thing edible offered in their tauted "Free Hot Breakfast" was a couple bananas and the "coffee." Thank goodness I'm getting out of here quickly.

Day One - Leaving DC

After a morning and early afternoon of frantic packing, painting, and goodbyes, I hopped in Sark at 3:30. After yet another pit stop in Arlington--to drop off the last of my East Coast belongings with Hoff and Josh--I was on my merry way westward.

I like driving outside the city on this coast. Everything looks basically the same, but it all looks exactly like this early American artwork from the calendar on my grandmother's wall. Rolling hills every way you look, with a kind of frosted, airbrushed look to them. Soft. Right now the trees still have no leaves so the light shines through them playfully during the day, but at night they only show up when illuminated by the lights on billboards. The roads are so dark out in the country. Those billboard lights are the only other sign of man and the stars above are so bright that I can see them clearly even in my peripheral vision.

Since I left so late, I spent my daylight hours chasing the sunset. It was prettiest when it sat on top of the crests of hills in the distance, but the colors were at their most vibrant when there was nothing but big sky in front of me.

When I pulled off the road in Western Maryland to get gas, I realized that I could not have stuck out more if I had tried. I was sporting my bright USC sweatshirt, flip flops (it was about 38 degrees), and pink rimmed aviator sunglasses. And I'm still covered in white paint. In addition to the incredulous looks of the woman working in the gas station, I also saw a funny sign on the side of the road. It was an official looking pair of blue rectangles. The bottom's white arrow clearly pointed to the left. The top had a single large white question mark. As far as I could tell, it was pointing at a BP gas station, but maybe it was a magical BP gas station, or an alien spaceship in disguise.....this is what happens to your brain when you sit in a car with just a sleeping cat for company for 7 hours.

Ah, and speaking of Inara...she's doing well. Although her general "WTF?" face has not gone away, she ended up sleeping most of the day and she did manage to avoid making me crash. She's really very sweet.

I found a little La Quinta Inn near Columbus and am sleeping alone (OK, with the cat, whatever) in a king bed, which feels a little excessive, but that's what they had.

Tomorrow I'm off to St. Louis.