The West

The great thing about this road trip (well, one of them) is that I'm free to adjust the itinerary as I see fit. Yesterday morning I got up early and drove from Dallas to Oklahoma City, fully intending to spend the night there before heading to the Texas Panhandle.

And here are some words I'm sure you never thought you'd hear from me: Oklahoma was a lot prettier than I thought it would be. I guess I was picturing a dust bowl, you know, dirt and sky. But it reminded me of Virginia and West Virginia, in a way: very green, lots of trees, lots of rolling hills and rocky outcroppings. And it was windy. I went straight to the Oklahoma City Memorial, commemorating the bombing in 1995. It was very moving and quite tastefully done; and again, WHY do we not yet have a similar 9/11 memorial? It's time.

But I couldn't see anything else in Oklahoma City worth staying for. And the open road was calling me. I don't know why, but I just felt like driving yesterday. So I did. I crossed Oklahoma into the Texas Panhandle, and shortly after the border, every cliche I ever heard about The West came true.

The land suddenly and dramatically flattened out, all the trees disappeared, and the sky grew exponentially. I'd always heard that the sky is bigger out west, that the first time you see the western sky it just seems enormous. I always thought, "well, that's dumb. The sky is big to begin with. How much bigger could it be?" But when the sky is completely unbroken in all directions, with no mountains or hills or buildings or trees, when the tallest thing in the landscape is the 18-wheeler in front of you...well, the sky really is ginormous. I was totally overwhelmed. I've never seen so much sky, or felt so small against it, or been able to track so many miles-tall cloud formations. Part of me wanted to stop right there and wait til nightfall, just to see how many stars would come out.

But I kept driving. Yesterday was the first really balls-out extended stretch of driving I've done; I think I spent a total of 11 or 12 hours in the car. It was strangely liberating. Maybe my driving muscles are finally kicking in, maybe it was the dramatic changes in scenery, maybe I was just properly caffeinated, but I was happy. All the minor daily worries dropped away. A lot of them have already been dropping away--it's amazing how much better life is when you don't have to wake up to an alarm, or go to a job you hate, or wear a bra, or think about your 401k--but for the first time yesterday, I really felt free. Perhaps I missed my calling. Perhaps I should have been a long-haul truck driver.

There wasn't anything worth stopping for in Amarillo, either, so I cranked up the 80s XM radio and continued. As I crossed the Texas-New Mexico border, the landscape changed dramatically once again. All the plains grass disappeared, to be replaced by some stunted shrubbery ("Shrubbery!") and the limitless horizon was now hemmed in by giant rocky plateaus. The rock and red earth was clearly visible in all directions. I felt like I'd once again crossed into The West, a different West. Lower New Mexico, so far as I can tell, is completely uninhabited. I didn't see signs of civilization, barring the occasional gas station, until I hit Las Vegas, NM. I had considered going straight into Santa Fe, but I decided instead to take the High Road into Taos, NM, instead.

Taos is a ski resort in the winter, but for some reason I'd failed to equate ski resort with elevation. The closer I got to Las Vegas, the more rocky plateaus appeared. As I headed north from there, the rocks and dirt and shrubbery changed into--well, home. Great, soaring, pointy mountains, twisty 35-mph mountain roads, rocky outcroppings, three-story-tall pine forests, and limitless vistas every time I rounded a corner. It was a long drive, but I felt a strong sense of accomplishment when I finally hit Taos.

So, to recap: Dallas to Taos. That's three states, close to 1,000 miles, one time change. I ate road food: beef jerky, dried strawberries, croissants, veggie chips, baby carrots, gummy bears. I took fifty or sixty pictures, stopped to pee seven times, and decided that Van Halen is the best music to listen through when driving through the Panhandle.

I feel freer and happier than I can remember being in a long time. I think I see an epiphany coming.

At one point I stopped at a random truck stop, and got a corn dog. I was clearly the only person in the truck stop that had showered in the past week. I walked back out to my car and realized I could drive anywhere I wanted, and do anything I wanted.

That corn dog tasted like grease, and freedom.

Best corn dog ever.