Mad Dash Home

6/10/2018 – 6/12/2018

I sat out on the porch and had a giant slice of chocolate cake and a tall glass of milk for breakfast this morning.

And if I ended the post there, you all would think that my day had likely been idyllic, a nice tranquil day of leisure. But alas, it was not to be so. Today I had to begin my mad dash back to Austin, a trek that would require both Jane’s cooperation and a huge heap of mental fortitude from myself.

I said my goodbyes, loaded Jane up, and struck off south around the tip of the Sierra Nevadas. Once we hit open freeway, Jane’s “sheltered classic car” guise bled away, once more revealing the core of that car’s soul: that of a road warrior. Bryan Adams’ “Open Road” – or was it Kenny Loggins’ “Danger Zone”? – rang out clear from the speakers as the world flew by, born away from me by the incessant drive of a half-century-old engine.

We didn’t stop for the huge Halos billboard.

We didn’t stop for the mountains.

We didn’t stop for the massive wind farms.

We didn’t stop for the towering tan cliffs.

We didn’t even stop for dusk.

It’s a bit bad, really, when you measure your life in tanks of gas. But that’s what I did. In the 700-mile run to Flagstaff, we stopped for gas four times. Four opportunities to get out and stretch my legs. Four opportunities to shake my head clear of road fog. Four opportunities to recover hearing lost to the pounding engine and the roaring wind and the crackle of the radio. Four opportunities to be something other than a force behind a wheel.

This is really when Jane shines her best. She is wasted on shows, on pomp and circumstance and the flaunting of ribbons and trophies. This is a car that is made to run, and a car that won’t be dramatic about it. A car I trust to keep me awake and keep us moving, even when I would have quit out of fatigue. But I am human, and so I stopped at a motel in Flagstaff after 12 hours of driving so I could catch some rest. Jane waited for me out front.

The next day, we did it again.

This time it was four tanks of gas, and 650 miles to Lubbock, TX. The weather in Arizona and New Mexico was lovely, from what I could tell out the window. It certainly wasn’t as hot as it had been on the way out.

Twin Arrows, an old Route 66 destination.

I wonder how many times I’ve taken a picture of these cliffs.

Around dusk I found myself sitting at a Sonic, propped up against Jane’s tire, stretching my legs as I ate some mozzarella sticks. Believe it or not, that was the most noteworthy thing that happened all day.

My god, do I hate Sonic. Except for their limeades. Man I love their limeades.

At some point in time a thought struck me: what must it be like, to be someone on the outside looking in on my life with Jane? What do people really see when they see that bright blue beauty race past in the left lane, engine roaring, kicking up a plume of dust in its wake? I’m sure that the majority of people I pass probably have no thoughts at all on the matter, having not even noticed the car. But I always wonder about the people who do.

I always hope that in seeing that violently beautiful car, they see the same thing I do: freedom. I hope that that car snags their imagination, cartwheeling them along into dreams of daring adventures and wild nights and infinite possibilities. Because part of what I do, I do to inspire others. Usually, in the rare moments when I’m stationary, people will approach me to ask about my car. And I always make time to tell them what I’m doing.

I’ve been road tripping with Jane for four years now, so I’ve gotten pretty good at reading the people who talk to me. Most just want to tell me they like my car – and I will always happily accept a compliment! But others are more than a little curious, and it is fascinating to me to find out what it is that catches their eye. Some are shocked, appalled, or overjoyed to see a young woman out by herself to see the world with no fear of the worst. Some are captivated by the idea of a classic Mustang, a longstanding symbol of America, out running freely on the roads. Some are absorbed in my explorations of National Parks and beautiful places. Others love to hear of the people I’ve met and the friends I’ve made. And in those fixations, I can see what people seem to need the most in their lives. I always hope that Jane and I can plant in them seeds of inspiration and the bravery to pursue their dreams. I don’t mean that in an arrogant way. It’s just that every day I count myself as one of the lucky ones who found and attained my dreams through some combination of chance and hard work, and it seems to me that since I have found what I want, it would be helpful of me to try to provide a boost to others where I can. So that’s why even if it takes valuable time out of my day, I always take the time to get to know people and regale them with my adventures. You never know how much you help and in what unforeseen ways. At the very least I can be entertaining.

Anyways, I guess that’s why it takes me so long to get to my destinations, and that’s why it took me 11.5 hours to get to Lubbock when Google Maps tells me it should take 10. Ah, well.

Some nice amber waves of grain.

I spent another night in a motel, and Jane spent another night waiting for me outside. And then it was back on the freeway, this time hitting Texas-sized speeds. I was bone-tired and ready for a real rest, but Jane picked up the slack and hammered us home. I perked up a bit once we started getting into the edges of Hill Country – the one blessedly hilly, grassy, treed part of Texas, as far as I’ve been able to tell.

And then, in what felt like a blink of an eye or two, we were pulling into home base. The two of us were covered head to toe in west Texas dust but otherwise no worse for the wear, despite a grueling 30-hour drive accomplished over the course of two and a half days.

Roughly 3830 miles in 10 days - not bad.

I had deliberately front-loaded the driving so I would arrive earlier in the day on the third day, which would give me plenty of time to do laundry, clean Jane up, and put the house into order. So that’s what I did. But why the rush to do all this right away, you may ask?

Well…. that’s where Phase Two comes into play. I told you, at the beginning of this trip’s posts, that I had a crazy plan. All good crazy plans have multiple phases.

My Phase Two happened to be catching the 5AM flight to Raleigh, NC to go tool around while the Hot Rod Power Tour would be in town.

I figured that while it wouldn’t be as good as having Jane there with me, it would be a good opportunity to go scope out the ‘show’ while also visiting family and friends in Raleigh, which is my hometown. Believe me, if I had seen a good way to get to do both shows with Jane, I would have. But there’s a point when I run out of vacation time… so, you know. Sometimes I have to take the shortcut.

And so it was that I left for the airport at 3:30 AM, sans Jane, sans any sleep (of course), to arrow towards the next destination.

The true road trip part is done, now. A quick trip, sure, but one just as full of beautiful places, adventures, and fun with friends as any of my trips ever are.

I am surely one of the lucky ones.

Kelly signing out.