Road Trippin’ (America’s Real Pastime) Issue 1
There are stretches of highways and railroad tracks you may never travel again, but you become curious when you look out your window. You might ask yourself what people do in this city for a living, what do they do for fun? You try to place yourself there, walking the streets and conversing with the townsfolk. Of course, it happens quite often if you are out on the open road. It might be a town you stopped in for lunch en route or to fill up your gas tank.
A lot of you have driven US Route 50, the 3000 mile stretch across the USA. It's called the "Loneliest Highway" for a reason. You can drive through long stretches of beautiful vistas and open spaces. I love these sections where you can easily drift into a trance, unfocused on the sights around you but at the same time at one with everything.
As I crossed Nevada, the radio broadcasted only one or two AM stations, no CD player, the outside temperature hovering near a hundred degrees, and my Jeep didn’t have air-conditioning, only hot wind. A filling station and cafe appeared in the distance like the cliched mirage.
I filled up the tank and strolled into the cafe for a bite and to cool off. I sat down at the counter and found myself among at least ten to twenty other patrons. Some of these folks looked too comfortable not to be locals. This establishment must be the only place around for miles to get a meal and cool drink. I ordered the standard fare for a roadside diner, burger, fries, and a bottomless iced tea. I devoured the hamburger and was eager to be back on the road to reach Ely by dark.
As I'm paying the waitress at the cash register, I almost jumped out of my skin when a low flying aircraft screamed over the café. A whooshing sound followed the roar of the jet. The whole place seemed to shift sideways for a moment. I grabbed the counter and looked at the waitress and asked,
“What in the Hell just happened?”
She gave me the one response I wasn’t expecting,
“What?”
I looked her square in the eyes and pointed up, "Ah come on, that."
She laughed and unemotionally replied, "Oh, that happens all the time around here. The spaceships buzz us all the time, heading over to Area 51."
Her deadpan delivery caught me off guard. All I could do was nod my head as she went about her business.
I heard a few laughs from inside as I headed out the door. I guess this is a source of humor for the locals, watching passing-through patrons wet themselves. Later on, I researched the place to see if this could be a UFO destination, and those were aliens in that café. I did find that the Naval Air Base in Fallon wasn’t too far away.
This is why I find road tripping as the true American pastime, not some sport played by kids and millionaires. The love of the open road is the one thing most Americans share as a common thread, certainly not religion and politics anymore. The road trip is the last piece of real freedom that cannot be degraded unless your vehicle blows a gasket somewhere in Green River, Utah. Long live lonely highways, roadside eateries, and friendly locals, and a stereo that works.
