Long ago, during an Arab oil embargo, when gas prices soared and reports told of small towns in which the only gas stations closed because they ran out, my friend Laurent and I drove east from the west coast in a 1948 Dodge pickup. He was on his way to New York, chasing a woman he believed was his soul mate. The truck was his. I rode along as far as Iowa City, to learn what I could about the writing program at the University of Iowa, which I had thoughts of attending. 

As this was an interesting time to be on the road, we took notes, intending to sell a story to a newspaper or whatever and use the loot to help with gas money. On the way home from Iowa, on a Greyhound, I began to elaborate and imagine. Before I could make myself stop, some months or years later, I had written some 1500 pages, a quarter million words.

Ever since, I've put aside other projects and attempted to wrestle those words into some coherence. As yet, I haven't succeeded. So I'll make this entry about my latest road trip brief.

Over ten days, I drove my 2001 Corolla round trip from San Diego to Schaumburg, Illinois, with stops in Colorado Springs and Iowa. Here are a few observations.

• The Interstate highway system needs plenty of work, especially in Colorado.

• Just as the people one meets in Walmart are generally nicer than those in Nordstrom's, so the patrons of McDonald's are friendlier than those in Starbucks.

• McDonald's, whose burgers and such I won't eat, as the quantity of salt they use makes my mouth numb, now offers good iced latte and fruit and yogurt parfaits.

• Most, but not all, country music is silly.

• A drive across the west can still inspire and revitalize our sense of awe.