The Scenic Route Part II

Where was I?  Oh yes, crying on the side of the road in Indiana.  (Don't worry, it gets better.)  I gathered myself to just a whimper and pulled back onto the highway.  The scenery remained the same as I tearfully meandered through more farm lands, rest stops and gas stations that smell like stale fried chicken.  Over and over I kept replaying what the officer said: "All it said was license returned, undeliverable."  Because I moved to Florida before my renewed drivers license was delivered in Virginia.

And then the rage started to take over.  No, it doesn't make sense.  He's not responsible for the choices that I made.  I am.  But in the demise of any relationship, "logic" becomes a little... how shall we say... blurred.  And right here, in this car, in the presence of mind that I'm in, in this damn "I" state, it's his fault.  If he had just let me move when I wanted to, this would not have happened.  If he had not been the assclown that promised me forever, had me quit my job, move to a place that I resisted, left me lonely, broke and unhappy and THEN cheated on me and kicked me out, this would not be happening.  I would have healed from a break up, minus the salt in the wound.  At this point in the emotional roller coaster, I might even have felt hatred towards this poor guy.  But I still loved him so.  Yes, sometimes feelings have a way of baffling a girl.  And making them down-right crazy.

That day I made it through Illinois and Iowa and pulled into Omaha, Nebraska right as rush hour hit... going below the speed limit, of course.  I have to say, so far, I'm not the biggest fan of the "I" states, so I was pretty content to sit in a little bumper to bumper traffic if it meant some distance from that long and frustrating road.

So that night, after I checked in with my parents, sent a scathing, anger and pain filled text to the ex (something along the lines of 'I may be a crazy bitch but you are a pathetic D-bag,) and showered, I went to the hotel bar... as you do.  I had some food and met my first single serving friends for the trip.  I have to say, and this is not to sound discriminating in any way, but girls have it better when it comes to this.  Food and drinks are paid for, stories are shared and who knows what kind of fun you can get into.  For me, I met a few good people, and ended the evening with a great guy, with a slight Irish accent (swoon,) wanting to follow me to Washington.  Now don't go getting all crazy and thinking dirty thoughts.  I was hurt (and as noted from the 1st blog, horny) but thanks to a recent visit with an old friend, I refrained from adding 'strange love' to the list of activities on this voyage... at least for that night.  Just as well because I ended up having a pretty good conversation with the ex that ended on a happy note for both of us.  And with me still heading West.

The drive through Nebraska was crazy.  The winds were out of control (the "expert," Mr. King, tells me it's because there are no trees.) and I was scared that I was going to either blow off the road or that someone else would and blow into me.  I couldn't even go the speed limit here.  Thank goodness for the the weight of my clothes, shoes and products in the back weighing good ol' Gabby (my jeep) down.  And even though there wasn't much to see out there on I-80, it was beautiful.  The endless expanse of fields, farms and road ahead made me smile.  Each mile somehow brought something new and I could feel my heart changing composition from lead filled to a little more like gold filled.

Next comes Wyoming.  A large square state with prairies, mountains, cowboys, my maternal family history, and the sight of my 2nd ticket on this trip.  Yes folks, you heard it right, my family is from Wyoming.  This is where I turned vegetarian in Jr. High (my mom hit a rabbit (or a jackalope maybe?) on the road on a trip out there once.  She had to re-run over it to put it out of it's misery, ) where I "necked" in the park with a guy named Dale (pronounced Dell to the locals) who looked like Wally from Leave it to Beaver, and where my mother did the town census (because she helped deliver the milk from their dairy farm) as a child.  I visited the family home, armed with a key to get into the dilapidated house, but walked away with only a pictures of Gnoman.  Gnome on the Range....  My Mountain Gnome....  Well, you get it.

Oh, you want to hear about the ticket?  What's to say?  I was 12 minutes into the damn state and since I was out of Nebraska, the wind died down and I didn't realize that I was speeding up. (Note to self: next car has cruise control.)  So here I am puttering (to be fair, the 'puttering' limit is 70MPH) along approximately 300 feet into Wyoming and I see the lights.  So Good ol' boy pulls me over and is super sweet.

"Where you headed?"

"Washington State"

"You're a long way from home, what's out there?"

Do they get this in the handbook?

"A new life."

Hey... it worked SO well the last time!

He has me come sit in the front (that will make sense later) of the cruiser and pulls my information.  I was going 7 (seven/ sept/ siete) miles over the speed limit.  Se-ven!  Really dude?  Well, as we wait for my information to come in for him, I start to get nervous.  I could be thrown under this small town jail if he wants, so I spill it.

"So... um... I need to tell you something"

"What's that, ma'am?"

Ma'am?

This little 22yo tried not to laugh in my face when I told him about the ticket the day before and issued me a driving on suspended.   That night I transferred my car insurance to WA before the 2nd driving on suspended could show up.

And on through to Northern Utah where I saw my first Mormon graffiti (you haven't lived until you have!) and some beautiful, but desolate, landscapes.  Next, it's time to start heading North into Idaho (Oi Vey! Another "I" state) and northeastern Oregon.  Not the prettiest part of of the country, but again, there is something to be said about the miles of NOTHING and that was the first time I had seen that part of (not as lush and green) Oregon.  Every incline, decline and curve held a new image of this great country for me and my breath was caught in my throat every few miles.  Every time you think it can't get any prettier, it does.  I can't lie.

And then it's Washington.  Now this is God's country.  Or at least one part of it.  I can't even explain the natural beauty that Washington contains.  The Evergreen State is just that.  The mountains, snow (in April,) foliage, people, birds and animals, ... I could go on.  My only fear was when I saw signs for "Chain up" areas.  What?  "Wha that mean?"

During this entire journey, my ipod never rested (unless there was no reception for the converter thingy... then it was country, western, church or nascar.) soothing my soul, re-opening wounds, coaxing out every buried emotion, invoking tears, drying them, making me smile and helping me to scream and find my voice.  The voice that had been so long in hiding.  And playing my wedding song.

 

I made it.  I made it as far (physically) away from what I felt as my biggest failures as I could.  It's time to heal and turn this around.  I can do this.  "Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends."