Going Home

For the remainder of our trip we are focused on reaching New York. I needed to return to work, after all.

After last night’s storm, it’s clear and crisp this morning. We packed up around 8 a.m.—everything is still wet and there is a chill in the air. We ate some fruit and jumped back on the highway east toward Denver. I am reluctant to hurry toward the city—I know that once we are in Denver, the mountains will be behind us until we’ve reached the east… not even a hill until we reach Ohio.

Colorado is known for its mountains, but in reality the entire eastern half of the state is flat as an ocean. Once we spilled out of the mountains, that ocean of corn, soybeans, and wheat await us.

To be fair, the Great Plains are not necessarily boring. To an Easterner, like myself, a flat, treeless landscape is somewhat exotic. No, the problem with the plains is that there’s nothing to do there. Of course, I’m exaggerating, but there is some truth that lingers among all those cornfields and cattle ranches.

We had about 100 miles to the Kansas border, then another mind-numbing 400 miles to Missouri. At midnight we arrived in St. Louis, desperate for gas and sitting in bridge construction. By dawn we were in Ohio.

A strong storm tracked us through Ohio, reducing visibility to practically zero and raising tensions. After Columbus, Mel took over the driving so I could sleep for awhile. I’d been driving since Missouri. It was in that narrow sliver of West Virginia where he hit a snag. Coming down one of the mountains, he was pulled over by a cop. He was driving 68 in a 55 and was issued a ticket, but without points.

We pressed on, hoping to reach my parent’s place outside Philadelphia at a reasonable hour today. We drove through western Pennsylvania, ate some lunch, and kept going. Soon, Mel realized that the cop had left a message on his cell phone. This freaked him out a little. Around Breezewood, he called the officer back, but it went to voicemail.

Outside Harrisburg we hit another nasty storm. We had no choice but to drive through it. If we stopped, we’d drive back into it later. So we drove, at about 15 miles per hour, through a heavy downpour with wind, lightening, and thunder, and small hail. It was not the best way to wrap up this long drive.

Soon, the cop called back and, because Mel was driving, I answered the phone. It turns out Mel’s stress was for naught: the cop told him to tear up the ticket and consider it a warning. Well, I thought, this is a miracle if I’ve ever seen one. Why would a cop go to all the trouble of calling phones, returning messages… It remains a mystery to me.

One more severe storm around Reading with rain so hard we couldn’t see a thing in front of us. After thirty-plus hours of driving, I just wanted to get to my parent’s house and anything that delayed our arrival was agony.

We did finally make it, after 35 hours of driving we arrived about 7 p.m. Wine was thrust into our hands once we got cleaned up. Our last shower was at Bryce Canyon, Utah four days ago.

After a couple days at my parent’s, we headed up to New York. Now reality was beginning to set in. How would living together work? I was a little nervous, and I think Mel was too. The presence of a parking space in front of my building upon our arrival gave me confidence that, in the end, it will all work out.