The trip so far has been grand. Filled the old moving truck up to 21 feet, me in the Carolina heat huffing and puffing and pushing those bulkhead doors closed, the neighbor kid Dalton’s big hand squeezing around a metal lock to seal it.
And then off, just us three and Stella in the car, suddenly divorced from our possessions save the few in the back. We motored through beautiful West Virginia and puttered into Columbus to visit Zeus and Lora and their playful cat who chased wadded-up paper that Rio threw joyfully. The next morning Rio got to ride on the back of Zeus’s motorcycle and wanted it so badly to extend to a loop around the city.
And then up and over to Chicago to see family: cousins and great aunts and we took the El and mingled with the Lollapolooza crowd who inkily strutted across Millennium Park while Rio and his cousin Nathan ran across water in the fountain.
Next more family: this time in Minneapolis, us taking the ridiculously nonlinear Northern route, past dairy farms and friendlies. We took in a play our young niece starred in and then bolted to South Dakota to some time without friends. We found a motel in Sioux Falls, and after Rio and Annie went to bed I drove to a “cool bar” Yelp found me and it was sad: loud televisions and huge tables and lonely drunk people. I was reading so I was fine with the gloomy environs, although I was disheartened by all the wasted space: big but empty. But the bartender was friendly and gave a good pour.
Then the Badlands: there were so many motorcyclists in Dakota because of a national rally in Sturgis that it was like the air was buzzing with flies. It’s funny, those tattooed big-necked guys on iron horses with jean-clad hair-teased women on the back: so rebellious and quintessentially American. I ended up digging their freedom on the roads. The Badlands was other planetary, those brown spires rising from naught, the grasslands where buffalo still roam, literally. We ended up finding a free campsite in the park and set up nice, us befriending our neighbor Chris and Rio finding the resident ten year old across the field. Chris had outfitted his car for him to sleep in by removing one of the back seats, and he’d been traveling for 111 days across America taking back roads only and spending just $7 once on accommodation, the rest of those nights in his car.
The evening ended gracefully but then the torrential storm started. The lighting and thunder spoke their rumble crackle and the rain soaked our 20-year-old tent until we were laughing at how wet we were at 3 in the morning. Annie took the hit for all of us, sopping up the moisture as Rio snoozed across her belly.
“Take the back roads!” Chris had enjoined us, and we woke early the next day, shook the cold off our bones and followed his finger across northern Wyoming, cruising over Rockies on a one-laner and resting our heads finally in an overpriced motel in Cody, Wyoming.
Such soaring prices and congestion around Yellowstone had me temporarily cursing Chris, but then that corner of the Northwest, heading out of Yellowstone and along the Grand Tetons; surely one of the most beautiful places in the world.
And then, finally, tonight; a word of mouth arrangement grants us a home in Salt Lake, the owner gone, her hospitality ours.
Last time I drove across the country was probably 20 years ago. It’s different this time, doing it with a family, but the vastness of America still surprises me, as does her rugged splendor and open hand. Even the highways sometimes extended themselves to me, the ribbon of the road like the next chapter unfurling.