Thoughts on the Road
We can write posts directly from our phones now. This is helpful. I haven’t written on Substack other than infographics because I think it’s a crutch - I believe we write snippets here because we don’t like submitting to publishing houses and like me, miss deadlines for pitches. If we can’t complete writing assignments that might actually pay us, why do we Substack? That question has kept me away.
My last post was a collage I made of Red Dirt Girl. One of my favorite Emmylou Harris songs that actually inspired my summer road trip.
The road trip and it’s destination is a longer writing project that I might actually want to make into something, but I will share a few things now just to practice first drafting from my phone.
Heat
I actually don’t mind 100+ degree weather, especially when it’s a dry heat. If it’s in the mid-nineties in the evening it’s a perfect night for me. Add a little humidity and an iced tea and I’m set.
Driving
I can now say I’ve driven almost across the country. I’m about two states away from making it coast-to-coast. If I had taken an additional week, I would have made it. I made it from El Paso to San Antonio in under ten hours and part of it was through a sandstorm. The way to avoid the monotony of driving across Texas? Do a good portion of it at night and you’ll be in San Antonio in no time.
Fear
I get asked this about my trip, it was completely safe. As in I only got kind of scared twice and I’ll tell you what happened. Was it fear or just being aware of my surroundings.
Outside San Antonio
About an hour outside San Antonio I had to use the restroom. There were barely any cars and I pulled into a rest stop with an empty parking lot. I get out of the car and the restroom is about a hundred feet away from me. It’s dark, but there are lights on the walkway. I close the door and it hits me, there are other people here. No cars, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that there were people there I couldn’t see. I’d like to tell you that I shook it off and went to the bathroom. No, I chickened out and drove ten miles up the road to a Shell station. Was I just being a chicken and spooked myself? It was the only time it happened.
Navajo Frybread
In New Mexico I pull over for fresh frybread. The spot closed at 4pm and I got there right as she was closing. She was nice enough to make me a batch. Another guy was waiting and I asked her if he was going to place an order. She told me to get in my car and don’t talk to anyone, then she closed and locked her shop.
I get in my car, but I have to make a video of my frybread. That’s when the guy walks up to my car.
“I’m sorry, my phone isn’t working.” He says with a heavy accent I can’t place.
“Have you tried anyone inside the store?” I ask.
He points at a truck a bit smaller than an 18-wheeler. “It’s overheated and I can’t get it to start.”
I look at the truck. “Radiator?”
“Yes, I’m late for my route.”
I’m a fixer. “Did you try calling dispatch from your radio?”
He backs away from my window. “That’s ok.”
I yell after him. “I’ll call highway patrol for you, it’ll work out.”
He walks away and says, “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.” In an American accent this time.
I get back on the highway and after a few minutes my phone is back online as well. I think of calling highway patrol, but I can’t figure out why his accent changed.
Was it the way I perceived his accent or was that a weirdo I ran into at the frybread shop?
In close to two weeks those were the only two close calls I had but they could have just been flukes which leads me to say that it’s completely safe to drive cross country.
Graceland
I finally made it to Elvis. That was an impromptu drive from New Orleans I decided on the day of. I went through the gift shop like it was my own closet. It was the only tourist thing that got me on the whole trip. I’m glad I finally made it to see you, Mr. Presley.
I’ve driven through some red states this month and it didn’t feel much different from California. Lots of writing material, but this is my blurb for now.