On The Road Again

I accepted a job offer that required me to start at the beginning of the next week. I loaded up my car near Portland, Oregon, added a new bumper sticker, and headed for Denver, Colorado.

Four states in four days - that’s what I had to make to start this new job on time. I had vague goals of what cities I had to make each day to be at the office in time for my training. I put the address in my phone and hit the road.

“Turn left in 453 miles” my phone chorused as I cruised down I5. I headed South through the mountains in Oregon, the familiar fir trees lining the freeway. Once I’d cleared Idaho the environment changed entirely. I’d never driven through deserts like the Midwest before - so much sun and rock and land. I wondered how Lewis and Clark must have felt wandering the Pacific Northwest as I traveled their path in reverse.

I drove for hours only seeing billboards and sixteen wheelers on the road. After not seeing gas station in hours, I wondered how non-fuel efficient vehicles made this trip. Somewhere in Montana, with no other cars on the road or signs for miles, I rounded a corner to be met with a beautiful plateau with a hotel on top - I envied the view as I passed through the canyon below. It was me, the occasional NPR blurb, and the dusty road.

As I drove through Utah cities popped up again in the distance with signs of civilization. More cars on the roads, signs for gas, and big, looming mountains. I began to understand why people wrote songs and poems about the rocky mountains - about the big open plains and open blue sky that never seemed more endless than it did over the Midwest. The main highway - the only road to follow - wound around more cliffs and mini canyons. I admired the sights of the lush landscape of history that seemed so rugged and adventurous.

I was jolted back into real life by the line of cars waiting at the toll booth. I slowed to join the line and turned down the radio to pay. The sight of the giant painted horse statue standing on its back legs announced that I’d arrived in Colorado. Signs stated I could pick up maps at the visitor center. I pulled off the road and into the small parking lot of the visitor center to be met by stuffed animals on display and warning signs about not hiking alone.

I returned to my car with a map. My phone told me I was a mere 35 minutes from the office. As I passed the toll booth I knew I'd hear the mountains call from the office.