The open road calls. L.A is cold, gray, and wet so I’m feeling the overwhelming draw of discovering what might be around the next bend, what small town might grab my attention, what roadside diner might captivate me over a slice of lemon meringue. I’ve always loved the interstates, but even more the small highways that lead to mysterious towns with names you finger on maps. St. Johnsbury, Vermont. Yakima, Washington. Or Truth Or Consequences, New Mexico – a town named after a radio program.
With a good playlist on your Ipod and the landscape floating by at 60 mph the mind enters a trance-like, meditative arena where you can get your thoughts in proper order. You pass by truckers and feel a kinship with them, picture yourself, bearded and wearing red plaid, behind the big steering wheel on a wintry, starry night. You read the billboards and sense a prophetic nature in the words: Eat Well, Stop At Joe’s.
I don’t have a destination yet, and that is the exciting part. I’m keeping to the south to avoid cold and possible snow. I want to see cacti and barren mountains and stop in thrift stores to peruse cowboy shirts with shinny buttons. Maybe I’ll stop in Truth Or Consequences and ask what it’s like to live in a town named after a game show. Who knows where I’ll go or end up? All I know is the road waits, stretched out and filled with myriad possibilities.