The Straight Way’s Short But the Long Way’s Pretty

So, I was making really good time, even in a freezing downpour.  I worked out and left at a leisurely 10am after a nice hot bath and a great breakfast.  On the road, I enjoyed conversations with our friend Daniel, and the lovely Kit (who I am hoping to visit in Buffalo on the way back). I got to Chicago about 4:30, only 3 hrs away from my goal of somewhere between Iowa City and Des Moines.  And then, I reached an intersection. I had planned to take the I80, direct, straight, avoid Chicago.  But I suddenly had this deep feeling that I needed to take the I90. I think it was based on some kind of attraction to the landscape that the ‘photo’ option in Google Maps was showing me. The beautiful badlands where I have always wanted to go.  The I80, I reasoned, was going to be an industrial corridor.  Ugly.  So, at the crucial moment, where the I80 veered off to go around Chicago, I continued straight, thinking that if I just followed the signs to the I90 I would be out the other side in no time. I even changed my mind and got off the highway, only to feel the pull still to take the I90.  Lewis was on the other end of the phone, suggesting that less time on the road would be best, but the pull was mighty. So I90 I went. I wasn’t even deterred by the rain that intensified.

As soon as I made the decision, as soon as I was somewhere where there were no easy exits, the traffic slowed to a crawl, then stopped. For approximately 3  hrs.  The local NPR channel, besides informing me that good digestion seems linked to longevity (absorption of nutrition), that the failure of the Super Committee is strategic, that the republicans are divided about Pakistan and that Mick, Dave, Joss Stone and one of the Marley’s had a great time making an album (interview with Keith where he did a great Johnny Depp imitation), also let me know that the Chicago traffic was chaos, unbelievably backed up, up to 2 hrs in some places, 1hr 54 minutes to get from O’Hare, and never mind trying to get out of the city.  I didn’t know where I was, not enough to know alternate routes, and the gps stubbornly refused to lock in a signal.  So there I sat, in the downpour, crawling past 4 accidents  (none fatal) following the I90 signs.  Meanwhile, Lewis finished work and in order to avoid the snow that was coming in Vermont elected to leave to stay the night in Hartford.  He chatted with me while he packed, and then got in the car. This would be my old Camry (1994), where the heater takes about half an hour to begin to push out heat. Lewis is nobly driving that while I have his awesome red truck, (even in town, reasoning that if I am doing the errands I get to be warm).  The snow began falling as he drove so we traveled together through our respective precipitation. The GPS kicked in suddenly, and steered me back on the 294, until I noticed that, weirdly, I appeared to be going south. It then steered me to a road that was at least heading west, the I88, and that seemed right so I obediently followed it.  Lewis suggested that I find, like, a map, so when I got far enough out of the 5-lane rush of trucks, and the rain let up a little, I pulled over at an ‘oasis’ which had MacDonalds, Starbucks, Panda, Subway and a personal favorite, a collection of gumball and other candy vending machines.  I had two handfuls of peanut M and Ms and a banana, put some gas in the truck, then perused the map, only to discover that I was heading south west, and that in one hundred miles or so I would intersect with – the I80. At this point, I knew Coyote was traveling with me, so I stayed on the road, made a Hotwire reservation in Iowa City, (Holiday Inn Express in Coralville for $60).  Lewis kept me company along the way, enjoying a buffalo burger at the Sheraton restaurant at the Hartford airport while I traveled almost alone on the very straight road.  The speed limit around these parts is 70 which quickens things up. By the way, I’m not having a problem staying awake, thanks to the really excellent wake-up technology that you can get these days.  I’m a little hopped up on caffeine candies, 5-hr shots, ginseng tablets and regular liquid coffee, but I’m wide awake on the road.  So I continued.  I realized that the GPS, perhaps excited  by finding itself in wide open country, has gone back to the wild. As we drove, it intermittently found and lost the way, literally swinging in circles, suddenly telling me  to go east, or south, or north before kicking back in. I resisted its sense of adventure,  just stayed on the road, headed west.

I got here 14 hours after I left yesterday morning, and first thing printed out the map to Becky’s.  It’s only a 10 hour drive, but so was yesterday, officially. The lovely directions, filled with smiles and welcomes (“Just come in, if I’m not there someone will be!”) include  turning where I see a blue house, going right on the road with three mailboxes in front of it, and one mile over the hill past the white sign that says cars turn south. Then keep going until I see 10 horses. It’s possible that my feral GPS will be charmed by this way of traveling and will find the way, but I want to have back up. “Just arrive safe,” Becky says, “and we will meet and get to know one another.”

Lewis and I said goodnight. Lewis is off tomorrow to Hungary, so it won’t be so easy to have him hanging around. We are allowed to text and to have a total of 1 phone call per day, but the time difference will be 8 hours and he will be busy with workshops, visiting and working with one of the local farmers who is also a traditional healer. My goal is to get to Hartford by the time he gets back next Tuesday night.