"Here It Is"

Day 1 of 3 on the way to St. Louis.

Logged: 658 miles (7 miles more than what MapQuest promised me!)

Time: 10 hours which includes 4 short stops.

A few of my favorite signs along the way:

"Watch for Rocks:" I think this works as a metaphor for life. Wise words from those who create highway signs for the state of Arizona.

"Ostrich Eggs! Meteorite Rocks!": finally, one-stop shopping!

"Indian Ruins. Souvenirs for the entire family:" Okay, I'd like to think there's a wink-wink thing going on here, possibly missed by any wayward tourist who stops at this store. I find this ironic, if not satiric.

"Chee's. No fake discounts. Real Navajo Rugs:" Another gotcha sign intended to laugh at the rest of us (white folks). My fight-the-oppressor part of me would like to think these billboard creators have a great sense of humor.

"Show Low:" a town as near as I can figure.

My all time favorite--one I spotted 16 years ago when driving this route and I'm glad it's still standing:

"Here It Is" (with a silhouette jackrabbit next to it): Its optimism, its all-embracing certainty that, for whoever put this billboard here, this spot is the answer to all woes, all the important questions. It's the ultimate destination--probably where one goes to sell one's soul to...well...your ultimate nemesis, who/whatever that may be. You'll find this sign at the Jackrabbit Road exit on the I-40.

Driving is certainly a linear activity, but my thinking while I'm driving is decidedly not. After all, my periodic musings are often interrupted by my need to avoid a semi chugging up a hill, or get out of the way of a Blazer, barreling down the highway at at least 85, towing a speed boat plus two jet skis. In between my deft defensive driving maneuvers, I find bizarre highway signs (who wouldn't want to see the automated dinosaurs or buy a genuine piece of petrified wood!?), I wonder how far the dust cyclone in the distance has traveled, and I try to calculate the time to the next rest stop (for the sake of my bladder). In between these original nuggets, I was thinking about John Grady Cole, a teenager who has a preternatural understanding of horses--an equine wunderkind. I am currently reading Cormac McCarthy's All the Pretty Horses (not while driving) and wondered what kind of dialogue would ensue if John Grady Cole and Huck Finn were to meet. I actually think they have much in common, though I'm not sure they would actually say much. Neither one is a great talker. Nonetheless, the imagery would be fantastic and they would definitely find the other great company. And they are both boys with skills. An interesting assignment. At the very least, McCarthy sure owes much to Twain.

Meanwhile, the sagebrush in New Mexico is a beautiful green, the clouds are cotton-ball fluffy, and I have an irrational fear of cruise control.

Cheers.