This is a chronicle of leaving Pasadena and California behind.
It did not happen easily.
DAY ZERO:
Saying Goodbye to the material in Pasadena, Calif.
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| Camp chair and Aero bed are in the green truck, already full. |
One down side: they packed my folding camp chair and my Aero inflatable bed almost the first thing, so by the time I noticed, they had already filled two vaults. I shrugged and thought, "I'll sleep on the floor. What could one night hurt?" So I swept out the house and ran a wet Swiffer over the bamboo.
About 3 p.m., one of the new owners (they are a middle-aged gay couple) stopped by with their Realtor. The visit was scheduled, so there was no surprise, but he did ask if he could drop off some stuff and I said sure. Luckily, five of the items were four folding chairs and an inflatable bed. "We just bought this, so I have no idea how it works," he said. I thanked him profusely and looked forward to a better evening.
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| The empty living room. |
I still had all the packing for the trip and six bags of trash (ultimately) to clear out the place; three of those were filled with stuff that wouldn't fit into the car.
Patty had spent the entire day Friday hiding in the kitchen cabinet. When everyone finally left, she came out with the most uneasy look on her face. Empty house except for a few trash bags. That afternoon and evening, she watched me throw stuff in trash bags and put stuff in the luggage.
DAY ONE:
Sleeping on the floor overnight was very uncomfortable, and it took a long time to work out the kinks. I crammed the car with everything I possibly could, but clothes and the cat's travel tube took up the lion's share of the space.
By the time I had carried the travel tube, litter box, food and water bowl down to the car and set up her luxurious travel space (including faux fur throw for a floor), she was back in the kitchen cabinet, eyes as big and scared as the day before. When I picked her up and tried to get her into her carrier, she freaked and simply refused to get in. I finally had to grab her by the scruff of the neck and stuff her unceremoniously into the carrier.
The idea is she would ride in the carrier between her travel tube and the motel rooms for overnighting. When we got to the car, she refused to leave the carrier. I was fed up with her shit (little was I to know this was only the beginning), so I just put the entire carrier into the tube, zipped it up and started out. (It took a bit of reflection, but I realized that she saw me stuffing things into bags and boxes and throwing things out. I'm sure she thought she was the next item to get tossed.)
First stop was the gas station. I pulled up to the pump but none of the buttons would work, so I went inside and stood in line while people bought lottery scratchers, candy bars and power drinks. Finally, I told the attendant about the problem and she just shrugged and said go to the pumps on the other side of the store. So I did. Result: it took about 30 minutes just to get gas and get onto the freeway. California was not making my exit simple nor easy.
Heading east from San Bernardino on the I-15, I quickly ran into an extensive construction zone that covered at least 20 miles. Patty, of course was howling all the while in her back-seat travel suite. Once past the construction, the freeway was posted for 70, 75 and 80 miles an hour. I've never driven to Las Vegas before, so I had never seen the solar power station outside of town: that was a sight to see. (It is mentioned in the movie "Bagdad Cafe"; worth watching, if for nothing other than the title song and CCH Pounder's amazing performance). This purloined pic doesn't do it justice, no matter how much I manipulated it in Photoshop.
Going through Vegas, there were two multiple-vehicle crashes within 10 miles of each other, and I seemed to arrive just after each had occurred. Once past them, the road opened up and traffic started to thin out. Heading east, the land was parched and desolate, but the rock formations as I came into Utah were stunning. I wish I had someone along with me to take pictures, but I can't stop for too long, as the distances and travel times are planned out to get optimum distance without driving me (so to speak) into the ground.
The other reason I have been unable to take photos during the trip is that I forgot my iPhone charger in Pasadena, so I have to save the battery: no photos and I only check it once a day for texts and phone calls. I do have the laptop with me (and the charger), so I can check my e-mails on a regular basis. I'm checking photos online for different places and will include them here when appropriate. But I'm sure the photos I might take would not do justice to the awe of this land I'm passing through (I have never been farther east than Barstow, so all the land is new to me).
Heading east, we got into Cedar City, Utah, around 5:30 p.m. I am staying at Motel 6 where possible since their rooms have no places where a cat might slip into and become unavailable for insertion into the carrier the next morning.
I tried to find somewhere to order food that was not a pizzeria, but ended up ordering a pizza. I wanted to stay in the room with Patty, but I now realize that really doesn't mean much. She just finds a place and hides. The one upside to the room: a nice big tub and a really hot, hot bath to work some of the kinks out that come from sitting and driving for seven hours straight (with one stop to hobble out, gas the car and hydrate myself, as Patty has water in her travel tube).
By 11:30 I crashed and was deep asleep when Patty came up around 3 a.m. and wanted petting and affection. I gave her all the succor a semi-conscious person could and fell back asleep. When I woke up in the morning, she was sleeping under the covers at the foot of the bed (something she has never done before). I packed things back into the car, and getting her back into her carrier was not as difficult as the morning before. This time, I arranged the tube so she could get to her food and water and litter box with the carrier placed inside. While in the car, the carrier is a safe place for her—go figure.
DAY TWO:
My 8 a.m. call came at 8 a.m. My back was feeling better for the hot bath and the rest, but that wouldn't last. It would be another seven hours with my pelvis wedged into the driver's seat. Luckily, the traffic on the interstates is sparse, so I could do something I had never done in this car before: use the cruise control feature. Without having to maintain pressure on the gas pedal, the hours and hours of driving are almost tolerable. Crossing the incredible arid expanses of Nevada, Arizona and Utah, I wondered how the pioneers made it across without this modern feature.
I stopped at a place called Green River which was anything but. The corporate fill-up/fast food places recently built had killed off the little town that was there. It was a ghost town. A depressing thought. I would have filled up and gotten lunch in town, but none of the businesses were open. Heading east from Green River, I did cross a river, but it sure wasn't green.
The farther east I went, the larger and more impressive the rock formation got, until they finally gave way to mountains towering above the road as it wound through the canyons. First was the Colorado River, then the White River, and we stopped in Glenwood Springs, Colorado, a really beautiful town.
The reservations were at Ramada Inn and Clarissa, the woman at the front desk, was very helpful. Getting out of the car, my hips were stiff and sore. I hobbled into the room with Patty in the carrier and checked things out to make sure she couldn't find anyplace to hide. Just when I thought it was okay, she made a bee line for the convertible sofa. I thought the legs were too short for her, but she managed to squeeze half herself underneath.
I flipped the whole sofa forward, grabbed the cat and stuffed her into the bathroom and closed the door. I called Clarissa and asked if we could remove the sofa or, if not, at least take off the legs so there was no cat access. She came down to the room. She brought housekeeping in, but no one had a screwdriver long enough to reach the screws. Clarissa said the maintenance guy was coming in at 6 p.m., so I said the cat could cool here heels behind the toilet until then.
Juan the maintenance buy showed up to remove the sofa legs, unaware there was someone in the room. He walked in and was all apologetic. I was overjoyed to see him. After some jiggering, he got the legs off, I tipped him with profuse thanks, and Patty finally got out of the bathroom. After about 30 minutes of searching for hiding places, she returned to behind the toilet as her safe place. Go figure.
Dinner consisted of Chinese appetizers (egg roll and crab wonton) and beef with broccoli. They sent steamed brown rice without having to ask. I spent some time working on the blog and by the time I was done, there was a cat-shaped lump under the spread.
I was in bed around 11 p.m. and reminded myself that we had to start early the next day, since the leg from Glenwood Springs to Kearney was longer than the day before. And, once again, early in the morning, Patty woke me up to get some affection and reassurance.
DAY THREE:
You always forget one thing. After packing up cat and car and dropping off my key card at the front desk, I hit the road at what I thought was just before 9 a.m. Gee, I was making good time. It wasn't until I was about 60 miles out from Glenwood Springs, heading every higher into the Rockies, that I realized I wasn't wearing my dental partial.
Since dental work isn't the kind of thing you can pop into the mail and receive a week later, I turned back to Glenwood Springs to retrieve my dentition. Oddly enough, it added just the extra mileage I needed to make the entire trip exactly 2,000 miles.
One more time heading out, and I realize how important having been over a road, even if only once, is to my relaxation levels. Also, I was getting good at plunging at 75 mph down unknown highways, reveling in the space on the road and the epic landscapes that unfold around every turn.
The mountains got higher and more rugged as I headed east, and the uphill inclines seemed interminable. Here on day three, I think Patty had developed the MO of yowling when the car started moving and then falling asleep and snoozing through most of the bouncing and jostling.
At a certain point, patches of snow appeared on the ground, then slush by the sides of the road. When I hit the town of Vail, the patches turned into steep mountains covered in white, even though it was in the 40s outside. When I reached the summit, there was snow was actively falling, blowing across the road surface, with near-whiteout conditions at one point it was. I was not expecting this.
"You're crossing the Continental Divide, Bozo," I thought to myself. "Of course you're going to run into something dramatic." Once we surmounted Vail Summit and began to descend, this unexpected winter began to break up a little, and old slush could be detected at the sides of the highway.
And through all of this, there was construction work. I think Colorado must be taking all of that pot tax money and putting it into the interstates, because I didn't go 50 miles without running into at least one fairly disruptive work project. And the worst of them always seemed to come right where I was making a vital transition from one roadway to another.
Once out of Denver, though, I began the long and lonely experience of Interstate 80 east of the Rockies and the flat foreverness of the Great Plains. Two lanes, absolutely straight, perhaps a half dozen cars in a mile's worth of highway, all going 75 mph, with an occasional semi or RV to pass; it's enough to put you to sleep, and that monotony and boredom became my major enemy on the drive.
But the sky: the clouds filled the whole sky like I'd never seen before. With no obstructions or pollutants clear down to the horizon, it was a blue heaven filled with well-spaced stratocumulus clouds (beautiful but with a hint of thunder storm in them). Nothing could capture the expanse of weather I was viewing, but I know now why they use the word "canopy" to describe the sky.
We hit Kearney about 7 p.m., checked in and I ordered Chinese once again, but central Nebraska Chinese doesn't hold a candle to Colorado vacation mecca Chinese. The orange chicken had chicken in it and the egg roll was rolled, but that's about all that can be said for it.
We were once again in a Motel 6, so I only found two hidey holes to be plugged before Patty had the run of the place. She ended up, of course, under the covers.
At about this point, I was beginning to unravel. My senses took on a existential quality, and there were times when my conciousness felt flayed and splayed from moment to moment, as though I could not find any continuity to my own thoughts. My sensibilities were getting worn to a nub.
One more day, I told myself. For God's sake, only one more day, I told Patty. Dear Lord, just get me through tomorrow's drive, please, and let me find my safe harbor with Amanda in Winona.
DAY FOUR:
In Kearney, I slept and extra hour before leaving. I'm still not sure whether that was a good idea or not, but I wanted to be as rested as possible for this last day of travel. Repacking what little I had removed from the suitcase took only minutes, and the "portable" (read "disposable") litter box I had purchased for motel room use I simply left behind, along with a nice tip for an overnighter.
Patty was dutifully under the bed spread awaiting her fate. I popped her into the carrier with almost no resistance at all, got the carrier into the travel tube, and we were on our way. The journey would end today, but it would feel far from finite until I actually located Amanda's apartment in Winona (actually, in Goodview, which is the northeast end of the Winona area). My brother Steve (her father) had driven me there last year. It was still cold and snowy, and I just remember thinking how convoluted the drive had been.
I spent some of the prior night going over my trip maps (I had made one for each leg of the journey with the help of Google maps) and discovered a simplified route from the I-90 East into Winona proper, and it dumped me within a couple blocks of her place. So I changed plans, hoping that the maps I was seeing were accurate.
I got back onto the I-80, always heading east. After a few hours, I came into Des Moines and took the route Google had suggested. I would be heading up the I-35 north to Minnesota, but Google took me onto the I-235, which skirts the city and downtown traffic, then meets up with the I-35. And even though the traffic flow was excellent, I still ran into roadwork, on and off, for about 15 miles.
Once on the I-35, there was a terrific sheer wind from the west that buffeted the car around. It's two lanes each way, and nearly half of the vehicles on the road are semis and RVs, some pulling trailers of their own. The speed limit is 75, which means the high-profile vehicles are going a few miles per hour slower than the cars.
After a while, the big boys would all clump up together, and when they passed one another, it would take sometimes five minutes to clear the "fast" lane; then the cars would pass, also going barely faster than the vehicles they were passing. At several points, when it came my turn to pass, I would punch it, pass everyone at 80 or 85 (clearing myself out of the glob of vehicles) and break free of the pack of cars.
The I-35 kept going. And going. And going. The road signs showing distances only had two names on them: the first was distance to the very next town, and the second was alternately Minneapolis or St. Paul. No where in hundreds of miles of driving did I see mention of the I-90 East, which was my next move. And none would be forthcoming until we were within three miles of the interchange.
Merging with the I-90 East turned the sheer wind into a tailwind. There was another hour of driving left, at least, so I settled in and looked for my new route. But deep inside I was getting more and more concerned about how to get from the interstate to the county roads. And it started snowing. Not heavily, but it was snow; not freezing rain, not tiny hail, but little fluffy flakes that skittered across the road in the wind and then melted.
I found the turnoff for County Road 29, headed north to Lewiston, then east on 14 to Winona. As I went, the snow turned to rain, then dissipated altogether.
After having studied the Google maps of the area, it was easy to find Amanda's place. My only hesitation was that she would not be at home. She had taped the front-door key to the back of her recycling bin. I figured if I didn't find a key, I was rummaging around on some stranger's porch and would probably be arrested in short order.
But the key was there. It fit the lock. Exhausted and in moderate pain, I got the essentials in from the car: the cat in her carrier, my bags and important papers. Once inside, I let Patty out of her carrier and let her find every hidey hole in the place.
We had made it. No more carrier for her nibs until the move into La Crosse.
I was asleep by 9:30 p.m. I awoke slightly around 6:30 by the sound of Amanda taking a shower before work. By the time half of the thought "I should wake up and say hello" went through my head, I was back asleep. She apologized later for making so much noise making a smoothie in the blender. "What blender?" I replied.
I woke up about noon and checked out some immediate needs: I had to find a place to purchase a new charger for my iPhone, and I wanted to find a place that could wash and detail the car. I also thought I might stop by some popular eatery and have lunch.
I ended up getting lost, finally finding Main Street (the far end, it turns out). I got stuck at a railroad crossing by a long-long-long train. It had stopped, and there were only four cars that hadn't cleared the crossing. After about 20 minutes of waiting, the train moved on and so did I.
I found downtown, but couldn't locate the computer store, so I headed back in the direction I thought would be home. I ended up finding Winona Lake (or is it Lake Winona?) and I knew one of the main drags out of town was nearby. I found a Subway sandwich shop (with an automated self-order drive-thru, no less) and got some sustenance.
Amanda and Natalie showed up around 3 p.m. and stayed for an hour or so, then Amanda went to drop Natalie off at her dad's for the weekend, then she went to the Beaches, a bar in Ettrick where she bartends part time.
In the evening, Patty came out of hiding and searched the house some more. She definitely approves of it: with furniture choice, as well as the style. And she snuggled up to me and snoozed the evening away. I joined her late, about 2:30 a.m.
Amanda was home and sleeping in Natalie's bed when I got up at 10:15.
Today I drove downtown and found the computer store…or at least where they had been. The sign said they were opening in a new location two blocks over, but they were closed this week for the move. Undaunted, I found a Radio Shack (right next to the HyVee supermarket), scored my charger, stopped into the market for some food for tonight and tomorrow morning.
Tomorrow afternoon my Realtor Michael has some properties to show my in La Crosse, then it's pizza night in Ettrick with Steve and Pam.
The trees are just starting to bud ("…there is a growing consensus among the trees that it’s spring," writes my brother Steve in an e-mail. "Except the really big ones, who are not yet convinced"). There were robins picking worms out of the front lawn this morning. One of the reasons I moved here: seasons.
Reading this over, I realize that I keep switching between first person singular and first person plural in describing the last week's happenings. A lot of that can be attributed to "we" being myself and the cat, some to the imperial "we."
But there was also a third entity in the car: A shiny box with Steve's cremains in it. He rode on the passenger's side up front with me, just under his favorite wall clock. It's appropriate that I switch between the singular and plural, because it's what's happening emotionally right now. "Our home" is gone now. "My home" is the next step. But he's always with me. His birthplace of Coshocton, Ohio, is about an 11-hour drive from here. Perhaps someday soon I'll take him home and spread his ashes in the Mushkingum River. I'm in no hurry, and neither is he.
This journey, after all, began on Oct. 13, 2013, when he left me behind, through no fault of his own. I think he'd be proud of me for the decisions I've made. And me, I'm feeling pretty good for being homeless. I'm just starting to realize what a new beginning this is going to be, because it's begun.
Patty had spent the entire day Friday hiding in the kitchen cabinet. When everyone finally left, she came out with the most uneasy look on her face. Empty house except for a few trash bags. That afternoon and evening, she watched me throw stuff in trash bags and put stuff in the luggage.
DAY ONE:
Pasadena, Calif. to Cedar City, Utah
Sleeping on the floor overnight was very uncomfortable, and it took a long time to work out the kinks. I crammed the car with everything I possibly could, but clothes and the cat's travel tube took up the lion's share of the space.
By the time I had carried the travel tube, litter box, food and water bowl down to the car and set up her luxurious travel space (including faux fur throw for a floor), she was back in the kitchen cabinet, eyes as big and scared as the day before. When I picked her up and tried to get her into her carrier, she freaked and simply refused to get in. I finally had to grab her by the scruff of the neck and stuff her unceremoniously into the carrier.
The idea is she would ride in the carrier between her travel tube and the motel rooms for overnighting. When we got to the car, she refused to leave the carrier. I was fed up with her shit (little was I to know this was only the beginning), so I just put the entire carrier into the tube, zipped it up and started out. (It took a bit of reflection, but I realized that she saw me stuffing things into bags and boxes and throwing things out. I'm sure she thought she was the next item to get tossed.)
First stop was the gas station. I pulled up to the pump but none of the buttons would work, so I went inside and stood in line while people bought lottery scratchers, candy bars and power drinks. Finally, I told the attendant about the problem and she just shrugged and said go to the pumps on the other side of the store. So I did. Result: it took about 30 minutes just to get gas and get onto the freeway. California was not making my exit simple nor easy.
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| This shot doesn't capture the intense glow of the towers. |
Going through Vegas, there were two multiple-vehicle crashes within 10 miles of each other, and I seemed to arrive just after each had occurred. Once past them, the road opened up and traffic started to thin out. Heading east, the land was parched and desolate, but the rock formations as I came into Utah were stunning. I wish I had someone along with me to take pictures, but I can't stop for too long, as the distances and travel times are planned out to get optimum distance without driving me (so to speak) into the ground.
The other reason I have been unable to take photos during the trip is that I forgot my iPhone charger in Pasadena, so I have to save the battery: no photos and I only check it once a day for texts and phone calls. I do have the laptop with me (and the charger), so I can check my e-mails on a regular basis. I'm checking photos online for different places and will include them here when appropriate. But I'm sure the photos I might take would not do justice to the awe of this land I'm passing through (I have never been farther east than Barstow, so all the land is new to me).
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| My room marked with an X: view of the dumpsters but steps from the car! |
I tried to find somewhere to order food that was not a pizzeria, but ended up ordering a pizza. I wanted to stay in the room with Patty, but I now realize that really doesn't mean much. She just finds a place and hides. The one upside to the room: a nice big tub and a really hot, hot bath to work some of the kinks out that come from sitting and driving for seven hours straight (with one stop to hobble out, gas the car and hydrate myself, as Patty has water in her travel tube).
By 11:30 I crashed and was deep asleep when Patty came up around 3 a.m. and wanted petting and affection. I gave her all the succor a semi-conscious person could and fell back asleep. When I woke up in the morning, she was sleeping under the covers at the foot of the bed (something she has never done before). I packed things back into the car, and getting her back into her carrier was not as difficult as the morning before. This time, I arranged the tube so she could get to her food and water and litter box with the carrier placed inside. While in the car, the carrier is a safe place for her—go figure.
DAY TWO:
Cedar City, Utah to Glenwood Springs, Colo.
My 8 a.m. call came at 8 a.m. My back was feeling better for the hot bath and the rest, but that wouldn't last. It would be another seven hours with my pelvis wedged into the driver's seat. Luckily, the traffic on the interstates is sparse, so I could do something I had never done in this car before: use the cruise control feature. Without having to maintain pressure on the gas pedal, the hours and hours of driving are almost tolerable. Crossing the incredible arid expanses of Nevada, Arizona and Utah, I wondered how the pioneers made it across without this modern feature.
I stopped at a place called Green River which was anything but. The corporate fill-up/fast food places recently built had killed off the little town that was there. It was a ghost town. A depressing thought. I would have filled up and gotten lunch in town, but none of the businesses were open. Heading east from Green River, I did cross a river, but it sure wasn't green.
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| These people really know how to deliver service. |
The reservations were at Ramada Inn and Clarissa, the woman at the front desk, was very helpful. Getting out of the car, my hips were stiff and sore. I hobbled into the room with Patty in the carrier and checked things out to make sure she couldn't find anyplace to hide. Just when I thought it was okay, she made a bee line for the convertible sofa. I thought the legs were too short for her, but she managed to squeeze half herself underneath.
I flipped the whole sofa forward, grabbed the cat and stuffed her into the bathroom and closed the door. I called Clarissa and asked if we could remove the sofa or, if not, at least take off the legs so there was no cat access. She came down to the room. She brought housekeeping in, but no one had a screwdriver long enough to reach the screws. Clarissa said the maintenance guy was coming in at 6 p.m., so I said the cat could cool here heels behind the toilet until then.
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| Really good Chinese capped a crazy check-in. |
Dinner consisted of Chinese appetizers (egg roll and crab wonton) and beef with broccoli. They sent steamed brown rice without having to ask. I spent some time working on the blog and by the time I was done, there was a cat-shaped lump under the spread.
I was in bed around 11 p.m. and reminded myself that we had to start early the next day, since the leg from Glenwood Springs to Kearney was longer than the day before. And, once again, early in the morning, Patty woke me up to get some affection and reassurance.
DAY THREE:
Glenwood Springs, Colo. to Kearney, Neb.
You always forget one thing. After packing up cat and car and dropping off my key card at the front desk, I hit the road at what I thought was just before 9 a.m. Gee, I was making good time. It wasn't until I was about 60 miles out from Glenwood Springs, heading every higher into the Rockies, that I realized I wasn't wearing my dental partial.
Since dental work isn't the kind of thing you can pop into the mail and receive a week later, I turned back to Glenwood Springs to retrieve my dentition. Oddly enough, it added just the extra mileage I needed to make the entire trip exactly 2,000 miles.
One more time heading out, and I realize how important having been over a road, even if only once, is to my relaxation levels. Also, I was getting good at plunging at 75 mph down unknown highways, reveling in the space on the road and the epic landscapes that unfold around every turn.
The mountains got higher and more rugged as I headed east, and the uphill inclines seemed interminable. Here on day three, I think Patty had developed the MO of yowling when the car started moving and then falling asleep and snoozing through most of the bouncing and jostling.
At a certain point, patches of snow appeared on the ground, then slush by the sides of the road. When I hit the town of Vail, the patches turned into steep mountains covered in white, even though it was in the 40s outside. When I reached the summit, there was snow was actively falling, blowing across the road surface, with near-whiteout conditions at one point it was. I was not expecting this.
"You're crossing the Continental Divide, Bozo," I thought to myself. "Of course you're going to run into something dramatic." Once we surmounted Vail Summit and began to descend, this unexpected winter began to break up a little, and old slush could be detected at the sides of the highway.
And through all of this, there was construction work. I think Colorado must be taking all of that pot tax money and putting it into the interstates, because I didn't go 50 miles without running into at least one fairly disruptive work project. And the worst of them always seemed to come right where I was making a vital transition from one roadway to another.
 |
| A teeny slice of vastness doesn't convey the vastiosity. |
But the sky: the clouds filled the whole sky like I'd never seen before. With no obstructions or pollutants clear down to the horizon, it was a blue heaven filled with well-spaced stratocumulus clouds (beautiful but with a hint of thunder storm in them). Nothing could capture the expanse of weather I was viewing, but I know now why they use the word "canopy" to describe the sky.
 |
| Midwest mundane Motel 6. |
We were once again in a Motel 6, so I only found two hidey holes to be plugged before Patty had the run of the place. She ended up, of course, under the covers.
At about this point, I was beginning to unravel. My senses took on a existential quality, and there were times when my conciousness felt flayed and splayed from moment to moment, as though I could not find any continuity to my own thoughts. My sensibilities were getting worn to a nub.
One more day, I told myself. For God's sake, only one more day, I told Patty. Dear Lord, just get me through tomorrow's drive, please, and let me find my safe harbor with Amanda in Winona.
DAY FOUR:
Kearney, Neb. to Winona, Minn.
In Kearney, I slept and extra hour before leaving. I'm still not sure whether that was a good idea or not, but I wanted to be as rested as possible for this last day of travel. Repacking what little I had removed from the suitcase took only minutes, and the "portable" (read "disposable") litter box I had purchased for motel room use I simply left behind, along with a nice tip for an overnighter.
Patty was dutifully under the bed spread awaiting her fate. I popped her into the carrier with almost no resistance at all, got the carrier into the travel tube, and we were on our way. The journey would end today, but it would feel far from finite until I actually located Amanda's apartment in Winona (actually, in Goodview, which is the northeast end of the Winona area). My brother Steve (her father) had driven me there last year. It was still cold and snowy, and I just remember thinking how convoluted the drive had been.
I spent some of the prior night going over my trip maps (I had made one for each leg of the journey with the help of Google maps) and discovered a simplified route from the I-90 East into Winona proper, and it dumped me within a couple blocks of her place. So I changed plans, hoping that the maps I was seeing were accurate.
I got back onto the I-80, always heading east. After a few hours, I came into Des Moines and took the route Google had suggested. I would be heading up the I-35 north to Minnesota, but Google took me onto the I-235, which skirts the city and downtown traffic, then meets up with the I-35. And even though the traffic flow was excellent, I still ran into roadwork, on and off, for about 15 miles.
Once on the I-35, there was a terrific sheer wind from the west that buffeted the car around. It's two lanes each way, and nearly half of the vehicles on the road are semis and RVs, some pulling trailers of their own. The speed limit is 75, which means the high-profile vehicles are going a few miles per hour slower than the cars.
After a while, the big boys would all clump up together, and when they passed one another, it would take sometimes five minutes to clear the "fast" lane; then the cars would pass, also going barely faster than the vehicles they were passing. At several points, when it came my turn to pass, I would punch it, pass everyone at 80 or 85 (clearing myself out of the glob of vehicles) and break free of the pack of cars.
The I-35 kept going. And going. And going. The road signs showing distances only had two names on them: the first was distance to the very next town, and the second was alternately Minneapolis or St. Paul. No where in hundreds of miles of driving did I see mention of the I-90 East, which was my next move. And none would be forthcoming until we were within three miles of the interchange.
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| A shot of the Goodview tower, © Corey Coyle |
I found the turnoff for County Road 29, headed north to Lewiston, then east on 14 to Winona. As I went, the snow turned to rain, then dissipated altogether.
After having studied the Google maps of the area, it was easy to find Amanda's place. My only hesitation was that she would not be at home. She had taped the front-door key to the back of her recycling bin. I figured if I didn't find a key, I was rummaging around on some stranger's porch and would probably be arrested in short order.
But the key was there. It fit the lock. Exhausted and in moderate pain, I got the essentials in from the car: the cat in her carrier, my bags and important papers. Once inside, I let Patty out of her carrier and let her find every hidey hole in the place.
We had made it. No more carrier for her nibs until the move into La Crosse.
Epilogue
I was asleep by 9:30 p.m. I awoke slightly around 6:30 by the sound of Amanda taking a shower before work. By the time half of the thought "I should wake up and say hello" went through my head, I was back asleep. She apologized later for making so much noise making a smoothie in the blender. "What blender?" I replied.
I woke up about noon and checked out some immediate needs: I had to find a place to purchase a new charger for my iPhone, and I wanted to find a place that could wash and detail the car. I also thought I might stop by some popular eatery and have lunch.
I ended up getting lost, finally finding Main Street (the far end, it turns out). I got stuck at a railroad crossing by a long-long-long train. It had stopped, and there were only four cars that hadn't cleared the crossing. After about 20 minutes of waiting, the train moved on and so did I.
I found downtown, but couldn't locate the computer store, so I headed back in the direction I thought would be home. I ended up finding Winona Lake (or is it Lake Winona?) and I knew one of the main drags out of town was nearby. I found a Subway sandwich shop (with an automated self-order drive-thru, no less) and got some sustenance.
Amanda and Natalie showed up around 3 p.m. and stayed for an hour or so, then Amanda went to drop Natalie off at her dad's for the weekend, then she went to the Beaches, a bar in Ettrick where she bartends part time.
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| Patty meets Natalie's furniture. |
Amanda was home and sleeping in Natalie's bed when I got up at 10:15.
Today I drove downtown and found the computer store…or at least where they had been. The sign said they were opening in a new location two blocks over, but they were closed this week for the move. Undaunted, I found a Radio Shack (right next to the HyVee supermarket), scored my charger, stopped into the market for some food for tonight and tomorrow morning.
Tomorrow afternoon my Realtor Michael has some properties to show my in La Crosse, then it's pizza night in Ettrick with Steve and Pam.
The trees are just starting to bud ("…there is a growing consensus among the trees that it’s spring," writes my brother Steve in an e-mail. "Except the really big ones, who are not yet convinced"). There were robins picking worms out of the front lawn this morning. One of the reasons I moved here: seasons.
Reading this over, I realize that I keep switching between first person singular and first person plural in describing the last week's happenings. A lot of that can be attributed to "we" being myself and the cat, some to the imperial "we."
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| My beloved passenger. |
This journey, after all, began on Oct. 13, 2013, when he left me behind, through no fault of his own. I think he'd be proud of me for the decisions I've made. And me, I'm feeling pretty good for being homeless. I'm just starting to realize what a new beginning this is going to be, because it's begun.
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