adam.oliner.net

Below is a now-completed journal of Colin and my road trip. In a little while, I’ll put up pictures.

Road Trip, Day 0: One Body Short
(Holliston, MA to Philadelphia, PA)

I packed my RSX with about as much as I could while still leaving room for Colin’s stuff. The freshly washed and waxed car looked so nice that I was reluctant to take it anywhere. By next week, I knew, it would be blemished by dust, tar, and the guts of a thousand bugs. On 15 South I noticed a bright yellow Porsche with New Jersey plates; I followed him through past Camden. In Philly I went shopping for supplies with Colin and Heather. We had dinner with Sean and Kelly, and then I said goodbye to them, possibly for a while.

Cumulative trip mileage: 313.2 miles.

Road Trip, Day 1: Driving a Fine Line
(Philadelphia, PA to Meadville, PA)

Colin and I left around 8 AM, heading west across Pennsylvania. There wasn’t much of interest to speak of, aside from a trucking company that proclaims, “We drive a fine line.” At 9:40 AM we took an emergency pull-off. Then we stopped at a rest stop. In Meadville we met up with Jaime, who showed us Allegheny campus and his frat house. We met some of Jaime’s friends, got some dinner, and watched Batman Begins, which I had not seen. We had a fun time at his place, and it was good to see him again.

Cumulative trip mileage: 689 miles.

Road Trip, Day 2: Getting Cornier
(Meadville, PA to Chicago, IL)

I had been told many times that the trip across the United States would consist largely of passing by thousands and thousands of fields of corn. As Colin and I passed through Indiana and Ohio, the trees and the towns were slowly replaced by exactly that: corn. And just as the scenery became endless stalks, so did our jokes devolve into corny puns. I should say, cornier. The I-90 toll ticket indicated our exit cost as “N/A,” so we made up what the fee might be other than a dollar value, including answering a riddle. When my cell phone (Verizon) had no signal and Colin’s had full service, he declared, “All I have to say is, Cingular for the win!” When the roles were reversed, and I proclaimed the same, he was unamused. In addition to an increase in corn, the signs became more, shall we say, “X-treme.” There was one sign with a football player whose eyes glowed bright green and proclaimed, “The Spirit Lives!” What were they advertising? A bookstore.

On entering Chicago, we had a good laugh at a sign that read, “4 Minutes to Circle.” Our evening in Chicago with Carl was lots of fun. He took us on a walking tour of several parts of Chicago, including his office in the Chicago Board of Trade (an intimidating building). Our dinner was colored by a fun sangria/margeurita mixed drink and a wall inscription that indicated the place had “cabrito muy sabroso.” None of us spoke Spanish, but the goat head mounted below the words should have been a hint. Unfortunately, they were out of goat that night, so I had to take their word on the tastiness of the dish.

Cumulative trip milage: 1,167 miles.

Road Trip, Day 3: Somewhere in Middle America
(Chicago, IL to Omaha, NE)

“Danish Windmill,” Colin read off a passing sign, “Doesn’t that sound like one of those weird sexual things?” So began our trip to Omaha. It wasn’t much to speak of, aside from more corn and the unfortunately-named Kum & Go. (Trip note: 12:13 PM - Patience with Colin decreasing. Scanning cornfields for replacement companion.) Arriving in Omaha, we were shocked to see an honest-to-God skyline. We stayed with Melissa Beckmann, who is just starting medical school at Creighton in Omaha. She’s living in a nice little house with two other girls and her dog, Faith. We went out to a local restaurant and brewery, where I had some genuine Omaha steak and a beer sampler. Now, I’ve had beer samplers before; at John Harvard’s, for example, they’ve got a 5 beer sampler that’s quite fun. So when the menu said 9 samples, and the actual sampler turned out to be eleven four-ounce samples, I was a bit surprised. Forty-four ounces later, I was happily chatting it up with Colin, Melissa, and Ali (one of her roomies). I enjoyed playing with Faith. She would bite down on a knotted rope, and I would try to take it from her. She mostly won. Even when she lost, I sometimes whacked myself in the eye with the suddenly-released rope. A sad day for me. Omaha was a nice city, but it was time for us to go. In the dark of early morning, Colin and I stole out of her apartment and got back on the highway. Next stop, Salt Lake City. Almost 1,000 miles away.

Cumulative trip milage: 1,644.2 miles.

Road Trip, Day 4: Good Morning Salt Lake
(Omaha, NE to Salt Lake City, UT)

9:25 AM - Entered Mountain Time Zone.
8:26 AM - Made time travel jokes.

A thousand miles doesn’t seem nearly as far when you travel at 90 mph for a good bulk of the time. Near western Nebraska the corn began to fade away and was replaced by emptiness and hills. Wyoming was more mountainous, still, with the occasional cowboy riding his horse near the road.

12:46 PM - Did not hit 123 mph. We swear.

We checked into the Peery hotel in Salt Lake. Joe, the bellhop, was a class act and helped us pick places to eat and drink. A seafood specialty place served us some quality calamari, and I had a delicious bass, I mean, trout. Trout always reminds me of a Boy Scout fishing trip with my dad. I spent all day trying to catch a fish before finally getting a single trout. Mom cooked it up; it remains, in my mind, the best fish I’ve ever had. At a nearby brew pub, we tried some local microbrews and watched bits of World Series poker on TV.

Before sunrise, we got up and went for breakfast in town. We ate at “Utah’s oldest and most famous restaurant.” Both Colin and I were clad in our shorts, sandals, and t-shirts, even though it was clearly too cold for such clothing. In Omaha it was in the 90s, and what did we know about Utah weather? At any rate, a newscaster for the local news and his cameraman were setting up a shot just as we walked by. He beckoned to us, but we just kept walking, because it was unclear what he wanted. The broadcast started: “It’s a chilly morning here in Salt Lake, with winter quickly approaching. But some people just aren’t ready to let the summer go…” The camera swung toward Colin and me. I waved at the people of Salt Lake City. Then we had breakfast and veered north, toward Idaho.

Cumulative trip milage: 2,578.6 miles.

Road Trip, Day 5: Volcanos and Squirrel Hunting
(Salt Lake City, UT to Boise, ID)

With respect to seeing things along the drive to Boise, today would stand as the second most interesting leg. Ironically, our trip journal contains only a handful of comments, one of which was, “Idaho is boring.” We drove north from Salt Lake to Arco, Idaho. If you’ve never heard of Arco, that’s probably because you aren’t one of the ~500 people who live there (or within a 50 mile radius). The only other possible reason to have heard of Arco was that it was the first town to be powered by nuclear energy; the nuclear plant stands even today, a small building a dozen miles outside the town. Although I imagine the people of Arco don’t think of it this way, I suspect they were chosen as the first site of consumer nuclear power in part because, in the event of a nuclear meltdown, no one but the Arcoans would be affected, and no one else would even stumble across this part of Idaho for years. I exaggerate a bit, but Arco was small. We stopped there for lunch at Pickle’s Place, where flies buzzed around our heads. One man sat with a fork in one hand and a fly swatter in the other. Unlike Joe the Bellhop, this was not classy.

Shortly thereafter we went to Craters of the Moon National Monument (pictures forthcoming). CotM is a huge lava field, complete with lava flows, huge volcanic rocks, caves, and tunnels. We spent several hours there, including some time climbing through Indian Tunnel, where lava once flowed beneath the surface. I climbed to the top of some huge volcanic mound, from which I could see the expanse of the park: an enormous black stain in the middle of the empty vastness of Idaho.

For a time, we amused ourselves by making jokes about the road signs. “Game Crossing” -> “look out, Monopoly!” or “Watch for Stock” -> “look out, the NASDAQ!” You shouldn’t be surprised by how quickly that got old. Most of our journey across Idaho took place on the Oregon Trail. As a fan of the game, I was excited to see many of the landmarks I remember: Snake River, Glenn’s Ferry Crossing, and (much later) the Dalles.

Colin got typhoid. Delayed 3 days.

Boise felt very much like a college town. We ate and had drinks at a distillery. They made their own gin, vodka, and rum, of which I tried each in a different drink. It was a pleasant evening of talking politics and chatting with our friendly waitress. We were surprised to learn that at this restaurant in Idaho, home of the potato, the mashed potatoes were “terrible.”

We attempted to ford the river in my RSX. Twelve pieces of clothing and 1,295 lbs of food were lost.

Cumulative trip milage: 3,029.8 miles.

Road Trip, Day 6: Gaaheehhhht-ahoohhhhhh
(Boise, ID to Seattle, WA)

That would be roughly my transcription of the pronunciation of “ghetto” I used to describe the hotel where Colin and I spent the night in Seattle. Though conveniently placed to Pike Place Market and certainly an order of magnitude cheaper than anything else in the area, both the hotel and the parking garage across the street smacked of sketchiness. For example, as one gentleman was checking in, the hotel staff decided he appeared like the type of person who might need to be reminded of their no-guest policy; we referred to it as the No Whores Policy.

We wandered the Market on the way to Elliott’s Oyster House, where I had the best oysters I can remember. The recommendation was Yong-Hwa’s, and we were grateful for it. We also had some wine from Y-H’s hometown of Woodinville, WA. After dinner, we stopped at a local brewery and talked about the intricacies of life and love, hopes for the future, as well as about booty and hitting it. The beers were hoppier than I prefer, a realization that accompanied the realization that I am a beer snob.

Seattle seemed like a nice city, and it was pleasant to eat breakfast while watching the sun rise, as people rushed about to set up the Market for the day. We ate at a place where they filmed a scene from Sleepless in Seattle. Of course, in true Seattle form, it rained.

Cumulative trip milage: 3,557.9 miles.

Road Trip, Day 7: The Pacific
(Seattle, WA to Ukiah, CA)

After driving south through Washington, we turned west and drove through northern Oregon until we hit water. The event was nothing short of incredible. The winding road we took to reach Rt. 101 suddenly opened up. We found ourselves driving along cliffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Colin got out to take pictures at one of the stops. When he returned to the car, he sat down, turned to me, and said, “Wow. That shit is fucking retarded.” He said it with such reverence and sincerity, it almost sounded profound.

We realized, some ways down the Oregon coast, that we were making progress far more slowly than we needed to. In an impromptu decision, we turned back inland to get on I-5, which we followed until 2 AM. This brought us all the way to Ukiah, CA: the edge of California Wine Country. We stumbled into the Holiday Inn Express and inquired about a room. Left with no choice, Colin and I slept together on a King-sized bed. Colin was hoping for a Twin. (But Mary-Kate was out of town. I’ll stop.)

Road Trip, Day 8: Drinking in the Morning
(Ukiah, CA to Portola Valley, CA)

We started drinking around 10 AM, when the first wineries in Mendocino along Rt. 128 began opening for tastings. The weather was superb, and we drove slowly from one vineyard to the next, tasting their wines. Navarro Vineyards gave us a tour of their facilities, and we got to see the magic behind making wine. I can’t say it was magical, but it was very cool. I’ll let the pictures (coming soon) tell the story. We went to four vineyards in all, which was about all I could reasonably handle and still drive safely. On the way back out to the coast, we passed through a forest of towering redwoods. Then, we hit Rt. 1.

For those who’ve never driven Rt. 1 in California, north of San Francisco, imagine a winding road on the edge of a very high cliff that overlooks spectacular rock formations and beaches and the mighty Pacific. Then, imagine me driving those roads after 30-something sips of wine, keeping in mind that I am acrophobic. Within the first few seconds of driving this road, California won our prestigious Most Gorgeous State, At Least of the Ones on this Road Trip award. We followed the road all the way to San Francisco, over the Golden Gate Bridge, and into the heart of the city. We ate at a fancy restaurant called Moose’s, where they had live jazz music by a pianist and trumpeter. Colin insists there was a mute on his horn, but I could still hear it. I had some of the most tender pork I’ve ever tasted.

We left the city and arrived at my aunt and uncle’s house in Portola Valley, where they kindly allowed us to spend the night. They live just a short hop from Palo Alto. It marked the end of our travels.

FINAL Cumulative Trip Milage: 4,712.1 miles!

Then Colin flew home and I moved into my apartment in Palo Alto and started life as a Ph.D. student at Stanford… but that’s another story.

This entry was posted on Monday, September 12th, 2005 at 10:12 pm and is filed under Friends/Family. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.