I'm Gonna Ride On
When The Road Calls You
Somewhere west of Topeka, the sun had begun to set directly onto the I-70 and all I could get on the radio was hell-fire preachers telling me I’d lost my way.
I hadn’t lost my way, I knew exactly where I was going - Wichita. But first over to Junction City where I heard tell of an amazing all beef burger joint, then south to Wichita.
But as that sun touched the asphalt, an amazing thing happened. The radio sizzled and popped and the preacher faded, replaced by Lou Reed.
“Oh sweet nothin’ you know she ain’t got nothin’ at all.”
And for the next seven minutes, the Velvet Underground serenaded me, and as that guitar solo outro faded, so too did the sun burn its way into the corn fields and I thought, I’m going to remember this moment for the rest of my life.
The preacher returned, evening returned and I remembered. I’ve always remembered.
In a few months, Little Bean and I will hit the road. Our favorite band, The Warning, will be going on tour this fall and my daughter has decided that she’s going to be a groupie, at least for a few days; two maybe three shows we’ll follow them, three maybe four days. The full tour isn’t announced yet, but they’ll be in Philly and in Kentucky. Getting close. We’ll see.
But I thought of those few moments in Kansas today as her and I talked about logistics for our own road trip. I thought about what it means to be on the road, how that plays out, what it can do for the soul, how it can destroy you or how it can give you life.
So today, we’re curious, what’s you’re road trip story? A moment? A day? When you close your eyes and think of the road, what has stuck with you? Tell us your road trip story! Ride on!
My best road trips were my 3 cross country bicycle trips - the southern tier, the middle and the northern tier. Most of the time on back country roads but occasionally out west riding on the shoulder of Interstates. Pedaling through the mountains, the flat lands, the desert, along the coast. Spending time with the locals learning about their part of the country and their lives. Seeing wildflowers, miles of sunflowers, horses, mountain goats, buffalo. Hearing the elk at night. Spending months with nothing but what we could carry on our bikes (our best friends). It was a simple life with the only care being where to get water, food and where to spend the night. The stresses of life disappeared. Life slowed down. Boy, do I miss those days.
Love road trips from a Sunday afternoon going where ever to cross country - which I have been fortunate enough to do 3 times. Once on a one month Greyhound Americapass (that is another story) in 1973 and twice more recent. Much of our trips were planned, but always allowed that extra time for the unexpected finds. One such was while in a desolate part of California. Driving by a dilapidated sign pointing down a rather deserted dirt road, to Bodie Ghost Town. So off we went. The road was long and became quite discerning. I half expected to round a bend to see a couple of old buildings with a Clint Eastwood look alike sitting on a porch smoking a cigarette. But, we turned the bend to find a large old gold mining ghost town with a parking lot and other tourists. We came in the back way! It was a wonderful place - left just as the citizens had abandoned it.