Less than two hours into my 2,218 mile road trip I noticed a big dent on the right fender of my already abused car. I don't recall how I got it so I assume it had something to do with my final, completely embarassing night of debauchery. Great. As though I needed physical evidence to remind me what an idiot I was.
30 hours in a car alone with my cat, a guitar I can't play and a bag of Chewy Chips Ahoy left me plenty of time to think and observe. And listen. Di wanted me to listen to talk radio on my trip but I was disappointed to find few radio stations along the way (although I'm sure that's due in large part to my radio antenna being snapped off at a Lowe's parking lot a couple years ago). I did manage to catch about 20 minutes of Dr. Laura, during which she berated half a dozen women for undermining their children's happiness, not standing up to their family, and not appreciating the work of their husbands.
Without promising radio options, I spent 13 hours listening to Twilight, a book on CD recommended to me by the enthusiastic young girl at Cracker Barrel in Salt Lake City who insisted I would love it. I was fortunate to be driving during the Harvest Moon through America's heartland, which was really quite beautiful and added moody ambience to the mysterious story about a teenager who falls in love with a vampire (what is with vampire obsession these days anyway?).
I made four stops at rest areas where I was surprised by several things: at each, there was at least one gray-haired couple holding hands and being adorable. Each "modern" stop (their words, not mine) also offered wi-fi access and a computerized update of weather and traffic for long-distance drivers. But the best was that each of the stops also featured "Country Singles," an "information source for the divorced, widowed, never married." I guess it's like personals for the rural, nomadic and lonely? I'm not sure I understand it, but I was amused nonetheless.
30 hours in a car alone with my cat, a guitar I can't play and a bag of Chewy Chips Ahoy left me plenty of time to think and observe. And listen. Di wanted me to listen to talk radio on my trip but I was disappointed to find few radio stations along the way (although I'm sure that's due in large part to my radio antenna being snapped off at a Lowe's parking lot a couple years ago). I did manage to catch about 20 minutes of Dr. Laura, during which she berated half a dozen women for undermining their children's happiness, not standing up to their family, and not appreciating the work of their husbands.
Without promising radio options, I spent 13 hours listening to Twilight, a book on CD recommended to me by the enthusiastic young girl at Cracker Barrel in Salt Lake City who insisted I would love it. I was fortunate to be driving during the Harvest Moon through America's heartland, which was really quite beautiful and added moody ambience to the mysterious story about a teenager who falls in love with a vampire (what is with vampire obsession these days anyway?).
I made four stops at rest areas where I was surprised by several things: at each, there was at least one gray-haired couple holding hands and being adorable. Each "modern" stop (their words, not mine) also offered wi-fi access and a computerized update of weather and traffic for long-distance drivers. But the best was that each of the stops also featured "Country Singles," an "information source for the divorced, widowed, never married." I guess it's like personals for the rural, nomadic and lonely? I'm not sure I understand it, but I was amused nonetheless.
I held my breath for most of the drive, hoping my car wouldn't break down. In addition to thanking my battered Sentra for its hard work the past few days, I'd also like to dedicate this trip to Motel 6, the Ruby Tuesday salad bar, and the entire staff and clientele of Iowa 80 - the world's largest truckstop.
I made it.
I made it.
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