Day 04: Arkansas, Texas; 348 Miles*

I had just crossed into Texas when the fuel gauge hit the one-quarter mark. I pulled off the highway near Naples, expecting a quick on and off. The first station Google sent me to had broken card readers. It took another ten minutes to find one with working electronics, but find it I did. Crisis averted.

I reached Plano – part of the Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex – around 1pm. Traffic was a nightmare. Luckily, I'd developed a method for dealing with heavy urban traffic after the hell of driving through Columbus, Ohio – Get into one of the middle lanes, and stay there unless directed otherwise. This eliminates the hassle of merging traffic from either periphery, and minimizes the number of lane changes necessary when the path you're taking unexpectedly branches right or left. Next stop, rocket science...

Eventually I reached downtown, and public parking. And then to 1418 Coffee, and my reunion with L.

We knew each other in Portland, some thirteen years ago. Time does funny things to our outer forms. Somehow, she hadn't aged a day since I'd last seen her. I, on the other hand, have grown considerably grayer, considerably fatter. We had coffee and pastries and talked about the trip down.

From 1418 to the suburbs, where L lives with her aging mother. They went to run errands; I stayed behind and caught up on writing. Later, L and I drove back into the city for dinner and drinks at the Coco Beach Plano, a bar on 15^th Street. I had the chicken bowl – corn, mashed potatoes, gravy, breaded chicken - and two gin cocktails. All good. Over dinner, I mentioned a peculiarity I'd noticed on the road: for years I've taken a prescription for acid reflux, which I struggle with constantly. Since I've been on the road, I've hardly needed it. And yet my road diet has been, predictably, trash – more beef jerky and snack cakes than anything else. Odd.

The conversation veered into other topics – concerts she went to in the Eighties, the difficulties of caring for aging parents, death, loss, the tangled aftermath. We walked down 15^th a while, then into Haggard Park. The unanswered question: how to cope with the feeling that you've lost all agency in your own life?

*Mileage is approximate. Somebody forgot to reset the counter until he was already on the road. Again. What a dipshit.

Day 05: Texas; 425 Miles

The next morning, we drove to Plano's best-kept secret: a wooded tract known as Oak Point Park and Nature Preserve. Poison ivy grew rampant, but the woods were lovely. The creek that wound through it was picturesque.

Oak Point Park and Nature Preserve, 

Plano, TX.  

And then it was time to go. I'd hoped to beat rush hour traffic out of the city, but mistimed my escape. It was hot. The air felt like thick soup. I nearly missed my exit, but a Middle Eastern man in a red pickup waved me in with a smile. Maybe he saw the out of state plates and took pity on me.

As the sky grew dark over Abilene, I realized something: in all our hours of conversation, L and I never once reminisced about Portland. We had some good times then. I think about those days often. I suppose some memories are better left unspoken.

The sky flickered, first with heat lightning, then the flashy stuff. But no storm came. I stopped for gas and took a few photographs near Trent, population 300. Flat as all get-out. But something about the colors – yellow grass, red dirt, rusted iron – broke through my usual disdain for the unmountainous. It was nice.

Railroad Crossing near Trent, TX.

I drove later into the darkness than I'd intended. My eyes were exhausted by the time I reached the Monahans rest area. But I was alive. Sleep came quickly, and lasted through the night.

Day 06: Texas, New Mexico; 519 Miles

I stopped at a Pilot Travel Center for gas, wiper fluid, and a styrofoam cup of coffee. While I there, I stepped into the restroom. A few moments later, an alarm klaxon blared through the store. “It's OK!” the cashier said over the intercom. “It's just a test!” Good thing I was already sitting down.

Into New Mexico. I took pictures where I could – Malaga, Brantley Lake, a train carrying turbine blades near Vaughn. Everything north of Roswell was magic. The spare simplicity of desert and grasslands; the endless dome of the sky. It was freedom and possibility. And the mountains! I couldn't stop to photograph the best views – too much traffic, no safe places to turn off.

Malaga, NM.

Outside Albuquerque, I was passing a tractor trailer when he suddenly moved into the left lane. I jammed down the accelerator and jerked the wheel, jarring across the rumble strip as I shot out in front of him. He blared his horn as I flew by. I resisted the urge to flip him off.

Nearly had another near-miss a while later. I'd been gawking as best I could out the passenger side windows as the Continental Divide rolled by in the distance, a seemingly endless stretch of sheer red and purple cliffs. The highway climbed a rise, and as I crested the top, there it lay directly in front of me. I caught my breath. My foot came down on the brake. Luckily no one was behind me. Here at last, I thought, was awe. Something akin to religious experience. Poor foolish neophyte.

The Continental Divde, NM.

L had turned me on to freecampsites.net, which helps campers find free places to stay. I'd selected a stopping point outside Gallup. I'm not sure what I expected, but nothing as majestic as this. 

Campsite near Fort Wingate, NM.

I bedded down in the back of the car as night descended behind the hills. A herd of deer ambled across the road and disappeared into the scrub. All was quiet. Peaceful. I slept.