Driving again. Driving a thousand miles across the country.
Through the rockies is one thing, its curvy, dangerous, sunbeams cut jagged and dramatic scenes into the barren chasms so you feel the grandiosity of the land. You feel like an explorer.
Then there is Kansas. God almighty. Hallowed be thy flatness. Anti abortion campaigns litter the billboards. One particularly hilarious sign promises you forgiveness from the lord and suggests foregoing pornography. This sign is conveniently placed about 200 feet in front of an adult super store. Ah, the will of some to save others is inspiring, or something.
Miles and miles of driving alone gives one a good handle on what good driving looks like. I’ve promised myself time and again that next trip I am making a sign! It’ll read, “I’m on cruise control! Try Harder!” For all those Sunday drivers that just have to pass you only to change back into your lane and slow down, over, and over, and over again. It does give you time to inspect their situation however. I find myself wondering about these trans-speed strangers. Why do they have so much stuff? Or where is all their stuff? Have they ever left Kansas I wonder? Where is their mother? Are you going where I’m going? Have you ever been in love? Has he ever washed that windsheild? People watching is one way to pass the time on a long and lonely drive.
Sometimes I make up stories about them. That was Jeff, the neurosurgeon, out on his day off, heading to Topeka to pick up some research results that will prove his thesis on brain entrainment.
Or hey! There goes Jackie, late for band practice because she’s been rolling around with Brad in the barn again. That devious grin on her 16 year old face. Saucy minx.
If there’s one thing I’m great at it’s the age old act of A to B. Dehydrating myself accidentally because I only let myself stop once every 300 miles. Gotta make good time. Some say that getting there is half the fun, but something tells me that Ricky the 600 pound prairie dog isn’t quite worth the stop. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe there’s more to Kansas than this flat, dismal, hayfield with a sweet story about a girl who found her way out once. To a magical land that just isn’t Kansas!
Welcome to Missouri. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.