My Rediscovery of Me

(I started this late Sunday and never finished it. Here it is in its incomplete state.)

I should be asleep. I should be. Tomorrow will be a long day.

Instead, I am sitting up in bed. In the dark. With no glasses on. And I feel the need to write.

What a great weekend I’ve had.

On Friday, I hung out with Katie and Amy after work. We talked a lot, and laughed. It was nice. Then, I went to the Friday open mic — my first since Jan. 1. I caught up with a few people and had some really nice talks.

I got home at 1:30 am.

Plans to leave early Saturday were made impossible (because sleep is awesome).

I woke up at 9:30 Saturday morning and started to run errands. Post office. PetSmart. Mead’s Corner. Then, I needed to pack and shower and plan a route and all that.

I got on the road, finally, after getting gas, at 1:30 pm.

I had eaten only a banana.

But I drove. I stopped at a gas station in Fredonia, Kansas, to search for food and to see what was wrong with Zaki (he was foaming at the mouth). I didn’t really accomplish either.

So I drove. I stopped again for food in Joplin, Missouri. I got a bag of peanuts and a Vitamin Water. (I was trying to stick to my kidney diet and not fall to the convenience of salty fast food.)

So I drove.

It was beautiful. I’ve taken the route a number of times but it seemed as if I was seeing so much of it for the first time.

Near Cabool, Missouri, a church sign read: “The best vitamin for a Christian is a B-1.” I liked that.

I started to look for a hotel and ended up in West Plains, Missouri. For $69, the cats and I had a home for the night. I got them settled and drove to the nearby Walmart for sweat pants (which I’d forgotten) and food. I spent about $25. (Photo of food items in previous post.)

I ate, changed into the sweat pants and then went to the hotel gym. I was on the treadmill for 30 minutes. The bottoms of my feet hurt now because I wasn’t wearing the right shoes, but otherwise I felt great.

Though I couldn’t sleep.

I was up until 1 a.m. (2 a.m.) — time change.

Sunday morning I ate breakfast at the hotel. An egg biscuit, a small box of Raisin Bran and coffee. (I counted one raisin in the cereal box.)

I packed up the car and the cats and was on the road by 11:30 a.m.

In Koshkonong, Missouri, where I stopped for gas, a man pulled up and offered me a carton of fresh eggs. I thanked him but turned them down.

And I drove.

Beautiful.

Remind me to spend a night in Thayer, Arkansas, sometime.

About 40 minutes after Thayer, I stopped at the wheel. I think this place has a real name, but I don’t know it. I stop here a lot, though. This time, for the first time, I got out, walked to the building next to the wheel, climbed some stairs, crossed an old bridge high over the river, followed a trail to another bridge (this one lower) and walked back to my car. I was carrying Zaki the whole time. (He was still foaming at the mouth.)

Then, I drove.

I stopped at the next rest area to get some water for the cats and me. I ended up washing my hair while sitting in my car and singing along to one of the CDs that Nic made me. I used a spray bottle (of water).

More driving.

The bridge over the Mississippi always makes me smile.

I blew a kiss to the Welcome To Mississippi sign. South of Southhaven (Southaven?), I stopped at the welcome center. It was gorgeous, out and in. Magnolias. I was offered coffee and I chatted with the woman at the desk. I looked around inside, drank my coffee while walking around outside and had lunch while sitting in my car and listening to country music. So lovely.

Fifty minutes later, I was in Lafayette County, my home county. I sent M. a text to say I was home. I’d promised him that he would be the first to know. He called, said he wanted to see me tonight. I said maybe but that I was taking my brother to the movies. He asked me to try to make it happen.

I got home to a house full of people. Five families not including mine, lots of kids, lots of Arabic, the smell of good food. I said hello and my dad made sure to have me shake hands with the people in the room — all men. I went upstairs with my brothers, where we talked and hid.

Finally, I went downs……

(as far as I got before falling asleep Sunday night.)

If I played an instrument, I would want it to sound like when my tires go over the ridges on the side of the highway when I’m not as focused as I should be.

It’s a startling sound, but I find it to be quite beautiful.

Today, after the years I’ve spent searching for home, I am realizing that I’ve always known where my home is; it’s behind a steering wheel in the middle of nowhere (and in the center of everything). 

Everything else is just a resting point, a place to sleep and eat and cuddle with cats and make clusters of friends and find ways to support a life on the road.

Part of that makes me sad. I keep thinking that I need to be settled, that I need to stay somewhere long enough to allow my roots to develop. I keep thinking that my relationships with other humans will continue to suffer until I find a way to stay put.

But maybe being stationary isn’t for me. 

No place (and I’ve moved a lot) has ever comforted me or made me feel as settled as when I’m driving along two-lane highways in the middle of the night.

As I start to write this, I’m drinking coffee at Urban Stampede, a coffee shop in Grand Forks, North Dakota. I have driven about 1,650 miles in the past three days.

My ride isn’t over but I’d be content if it were.

On Sunday, Oct. 24, at 7:30 a.m., I left Wichita. I arrived in Grand Forks last night at 6:30.

Since Sunday morning, I have experienced life in ways I am still trying to comprehend.

In western Kansas, I was overcome with a wonderful calmness. Everything seemed to be at peace, and instead of envying that stillness (as I know I do sometimes) I was instantly soothed. I felt my body become less tense; I heard my mind start to go blank. 

In eastern Colorado, I was immediately met with a light blue sky of gorgeous clouds. In the distance, the fields looked purple. I was in a constant state of “Oh my god, this is unbelievable.”

Thirty minutes outside of Colorado Springs, I had just filled up my gas tank when my mother called.

“You haven’t been on Facebook all day. Are you OK?” she asked. 

My mother lives in Angers, France. We don’t talk very often, but when we do it’s often via Facebook chat.

Realizing I hadn’t told anyone in my immediate family of my plans, I filled her in and triggered her worrying. Twenty minutes later, I had assured her that I would drive carefully, that I wouldn’t sleep at any rest areas (though that was my plan) and that I would keep her informed of my travels. Knowing that she would call my oldest sister as soon as we hung up, I called my sister and filled her in on my “plans.” She was upset that I hadn’t told her and then asked me to not speak to strangers. (My mom had called her twice in the short time that we were on the phone.)

I got back on the road. An hour or so later, I was in Manitou Springs, Colorado, focusing on my breathing atop a boulder at the Garden of the Gods. A couple some feet away was doing yoga. A few dogs were running around. I heard no traffic noise, just the wind and the light crackling of swaying branches. 

I would have stayed there for hours, but I couldn’t.

I drove, and as I drove, I sang loudly along with country music stations (cue “Farmer’s Daughter” or “Stuck Like Glue”). I tuned into various NPR stations. I also had duets with Ani DiFranco, Andrea Gibson, Tracy Chapman, Catherine Feeny and Tupac.

After stopping in three or four cities looking for a cheap hotel, I ended up at the Silver Spruce Motel in Glenwood Springs, Colorado. I paid $55 for the room.

I ended the day energized. I had driven through 13 miles of the Glenwood Canyon in the dark, and I regretted that so I Googled images of it to see what I had missed. After a few phone calls with people I love, I fell asleep easily.

Food/drinks for the day: Fake meat/fake cheese sandwiches I made in Wichita, SunChips, a few Famous Amos cookies, two Mountain Dews, a Dr Pepper and three cups of coffee.

The next morning, I woke up to rain. As I ate breakfast at the hotel, the power went out. I finished my coffee and waffle in the dark and I got on the road. It was 7:30 a.m.

The plan was to get Butte, Montana, in 13 hours. An hour and a half later, I was stuck in the snow on Highway 13 in Colorado. Terrified to the extent that I couldn’t control my shaking, I pulled over. Ten minutes later, a snow plow came through, tossing snow from the street onto and around my little car. Getting out wore my tires — and me — down. 

I was probably pretty close to the Wyoming border, but continuing on that two-lane, snow-covered road was just not something I wanted to do.  

I turned around. Out of the worst of the snow, I stopped in Rifle, Colorado, to check on my car and decide what I would do next. As soon as I pulled into the gas station lot, my mother called. I carefully told her that it was snowing so bad that I turned around. Telling her how scared I actually was would have freaked her out more than she already was freaking out.

“Eba, you should just turn around and go back to your apartment,” she told me.

I said I wouldn’t do that, but I promised to stay focused and be careful.

I decided to get back on I-70 and head toward Denver. I saw a Honda dealership in Glenwood Springs (where I had been overnight and just three hours earlier) so I stopped. They took a look at my tires, filled them up, and I was on my way again. Within 10 minutes, I had run into more snow. Just as bad. 

It, also, was terrifying. Yet amazing. Exhilarating. As I was scared out of my mind, I was amazed at the beauty of what I was experiencing. I stopped in Frisco, Colorado — another place I had driven through the night before — to ask how far out the storm was. 

The response I received: “Pretty far.”

I drove across the street to another gas station for coffee (though I’m still not sure why I did this because I was at a gas station already). I was still pretty on edge and sure I looked it when the cashier said, “I love your hair. Those curls, they’re great.” 

She made me smile, brought me back to the moment and not to what was ahead of me. I bought some French fries at the Wendy’s next door (it was National Greasy Foods Day after all) and got back on the road to Denver. 

Again, it was hell and it was wonderful.

Twenty minutes outside of Denver, there was no sign of snow. The sun was out. The roads were dry. It was lovely.

I headed north on I-25 and was in Cheyenne, Wyoming, in a little over an hour. It was my first time in the state and I’m sad I didn’t get to see more of it, but it was nice.

I drove into Nebraska, getting on a bunch of small highways for 20-mile chunks. I had seen only the eastern edge of Nebraska before. This was gorgeous. Seriously.  

As it got dark, all i could see in front of me were the stars. So many of them.

I started looking for a place to sleep. In Alliance, Nebraska, I saw the first national hotel chains that I had seen in hours, but every hotel room (for less than $119) in the town was full. I kept driving.

In Cherry County, the streets looked as if they had been painted red. As I continued to drive northeast, the moon jumped from my right to right in front of me. More stars. I told the moon it was beautiful. I thanked god and the universe for the opportunity to experience what I was experiencing.

No hotels anywhere. Soon I was in South Dakota. The tumbleweeds around Miller made me smile. I drove into Mission and was sure I would find a place to sleep. Nothing.

On Highway 83, I spotted a dozen deer just hanging out along the road.

I stopped at a Days Inn in Murdo, South Dakota, for the night. It was past midnight when I got there.

Food/drinks for the day: Waffle, apple, fries, leftover SunChips, two cups of coffee, lots of water.

I slept in the next day. I had coffee and a doughnut at the hotel and was on the road around 11 a.m.

As soon as I hit the road, I was met with intense winds. Things were fine when I was heading east, but as soon as I turned north I felt as if I were about to be picked up and flown across the fields I was driving past.

Waves around the Big Bend Dam were strong. In Clark, S. Dakota, there was a row of cars — 8 or 9 — all identical: long, red cars with white tops, at least 20 years old.

Later, there was a billboard that read: “Help control predators. Wear furs.”

I drove to Watertown, SD, where I connected with I-29. The rain started. It was light, but with the 50 mph wind gusts and construction on the Interstate, it was no fun.

Around Sisseton, SD, the rain stopped. It was cloudy and foggy, but I noticed a rainbow stretching over the interstate. 

The wind got much worse in North Dakota. I saw two 18-wheelers that had flipped over. One was in the median; the other blocked both southbound lanes. A third semi had gotten stuck on the NB lanes, but hadn’t flipped over and blocked just one lane of traffic. It was scary. 

An 18-wheeler that wouldn’t slow down made it even scarier. Though the speed limit was 75mph, most of the cars were going about 60. The driver of this blue semi was pushing it even further. You could see the truck leaning toward the right, so close to tipping over, for miles. I let it pass me and then he slowed down a lot. I passed and never saw it again. I’m still hoping it didn’t tip over.

I got passed by a car from Ontario. The plates read EGGSALAD.

At one point, I saw a sign that said, “Depressed wheel tracks ahead.” Before thinking, I said, “aww.” 

I got to Grand Forks around 6:30 p.m. It was raining but the wind had died down.

I stopped for two caramel lattes at Caribou. When I got to Kim’s house, she had just gotten home from work. 

We (ok, she) made pizza. I hugged on the dogs. We tried to find the cat that was hiding — and eventually succeeded, but he still won’t let me near him.

Today, we slept in, had a late breakfast and then Kim took me to her pottery studio. I loved it. She’s doing some amazing stuff. 

Now, I’m at this coffee shop.

Food for Wednesday: Mushroom and cheese omelet, tofu/veggies/rice and cream cheese wontons at Chinese restaurant, tea, caramel latte 

Obviously, I’ve left out lots of details (and included unnecessary ones) but this is hands-down my favorite road trip to date. 

Before Sunday, it was driving along the Nantahala River in North Carolina. I was sure nothing would ever top that.

–

It’s now Saturday. I am still in North Dakota. That definitely wasn’t the plan. I was meaning to get to Chicago to celebrate my college roommate’s birthday. That was yesterday, the 29th. Instead, I stayed in Grand Forks. 

On Thursday, Kim and I went to lunch at a Mexican restaurant and then spent some time at a coffee shop setting up her new iPad. Later, I lounged around, cuddled with three dogs and a cat.  That night, I went to a high school play. 

Food: Shrimp chimichanga, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, toast, two cups of chai.

Friday was another lazy day. I caught up on some tv shows. That night, I went out for dinner at an Italian restaurant.

Food: Brownies, shrimp, potatoes, garlic knots, other stuff I can’t remember.

–

Well, now it’s Nov. 5. 

I left Grand Forks at 9 a.m. Sunday. I drove through crazy fog, but the drive was mostly wonderful.

I spent most of the ride looking for pizza, though. I’d see signs for pizza and I’d pull off, in search of a slice, and hit a dead-end or I’d drive for a mile and not see the pizza shop and I’d turn around.  

At a truck stop in Nebraska, there was a sink in every stall. It was excessive, but also convenient and nice.

I’m back in Kansas. I’m sitting at Poetic Justice. I have a cold. 

I returned to Wichita and I was pretty excited. I was refreshed. I had a lot of work to do, but it wasn’t overwhelming. 

Then I got a cold. I had about 30 hours of sleep in the past two days. I missed last night’s open mic. 

–

My trip was amazing, though — everything I needed it to be. I posted lots of photos at http://www.flickr.com/photos/dimahabe/sets/72157625307117282/with/5144304384/.

2,500 miles.
8 days.
Lots of smiles.

I’ll have a full post with photos and video up as soon as I can.