go west!

Dark and silent late last night

I think I might have heard the highway call.

Geese in flight and dogs that bite.

And signs that might be omens say I'm going, I'm going...

Gone to Carolina in my mind.

I heard the highway call. I drove away on a hot Saturday afternoon honking and waving to my dear husband David and brown dog, Calley. As I turned onto Moccasin Hill, I caught a glimpse of them in my rearview mirror waving back. I didn't take any photos to commemorate the send off, they would have been blurry. Though I have traveled alone many times, the trips usually begin with a heroic send off at the airport surrounded by others doing the same thing. But driving away, that felt really different.

Quick explanation. I am driving Eliza's car to Leadville, Colorado where she is already working for the High Mountain Institute (HMI) and didn't have time to drive her car out there. I have combined this trip with a visit to my brother and his family in Boulder and time with my sister who is flying in from Oregon. We will then drive to Taos for a writing retreat and join my friend Laura there. Finally, having had my fun, I will deliver the green Subaru Embrezza loaded with Eliza's winter clothing, warm boots and a bicycle to Leadville. Then I'll give her a hug, get on a plane and fly east.

As I described this trip to friends at home, many wished they could have come with me but other things got in the way. There is a deep mythology in America about the open road. No agenda. No responsibility. Freedom. Pioneer spirit. I would have loved to have company but have no trouble doing it alone, either. It feels like a rite of passage. Something you have to have done. I have flown across this great country countless times. My sister moved to California in 1966 and I have been traveling west to see her ever since then. But never in a car.

So how is it going you ask. Fine. Faster than I thought it would. This is not like driving on Rt. 128 where I feel I take my life into my hands every time I pull on to it. The gentle curve of that road, which was coined the "emerald necklace around Boston" when created makes it a surprisingly dangerous road. The only real car accident I have ever been in was on that road. In Wakefield. Watch out for that stretch. No, we're talking about long, straight roads through Indiana and Iowa. Corn and Soybeans edge this truly emerald highway; Rt. 80.

I thought I'd take detours on back roads but I have this urge to keep going, knowing there will be plenty of adventure when I get to my destination. I feel the mountains calling! I like Rt. 80 and its rest stops and after a break, can't wait to get back in the car to listen to more Alice Munro short stories. Cruise control is great too. Set it at 70 (that is the speed limit) and sit back in living room comfort.

This is day three and I'm about to enter Nebraska. Never been there. Anyone know the name of the capitol city?