It all started with a book. Or, more precisely, with a
book and a yen to ramble and a personal fork in the road.
Blue Highways: A Journey Into America, by William
Least Heat Moon, had captivated me for 20 years and I'd
longed to retrace that trip around the country via the
back roads. In the Spring of ‘02 I decided that
the time was right for me to do it. I would explore, and
try to figure some stuff out, and write my own account
of the road—and life—in post-9/11 America.
So I sold my house, put my belongings in storage, and
hit the road in Uli, my six-cylinder, five-speed Volkswagen
Passat. I figured it was meant to be: The Germans invented
wanderlust, after all.
Blue Highways
Uli and I followed, more or less, Heat Moon's tracks
around the continental United States, but it was our
own trip and our own story. I tried to update the answers
to some of the burning questions that drove Blue Highways—such
as whether or not there are any six-calendars-on-the-wall
cafes left in America—but found my own questions
and characters, too. A Cajun fella told Heat Moon that
we're all fools in God's garden, and I knew that as
long as there are fools in God's garden there are plenty
of good stories to be had.
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I visited state and national parks, small towns, and
the proverbial wide spots in the road, following my
nose. Years ago, my family traveled this way; we discovered
that a little flexibility goes a long way. Nothing tells
you more about a place than a stop in the local grocery
store, post office, or church, and casual conversations
can run deep and spur serendipitous changes of direction.
Stripped of the business-travel straitjacket, my itinerary
consisted of nothing more than south, west, north, and
east; I let the road show me the way.
There were a few things I especially wanted to look
for, though, such as signs of the War on Terrorism.
On September 11, 2001 I was in my Capitol Hill home;
that evening I wandered around Washington, DC soaking
up its mood. What I saw and felt that night set the
tone for what followed: an uneasy combination of siege
mentality and business as usual. How, I wondered, did
that translate in the country’s nooks and crannies?
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I also wanted to see for myself how deeply technology
had penetrated the U.S. If my laptop was on the fritz
in Why, Arizona or I was camping without electricity
in Remote, Oregon, would I be able to get online at
a storefront coffeehouse or doublewide library? Would
I sit next to an elderly lady downloading photos of
her son's family a thousand miles away, or perhaps a
teenager e-mailing a modern-day pen pal who was halfway
around the world? Could I possibly feel lonely with
my loved ones a keystroke or a cell-phone call away?
Least Heat Moon noted that adventure is an advent,
an arrival, a new beginning. My fellow citizens and
I were birthing a new way of life in a new century,
so I set out to see what was being born.
I sent the literary sketches on this Website to family
and friends while I was on the road, once a week via
e-mail. Please explore them and see America from the
slow lane. These, and many other stories, will be featured
in my upcoming book.
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