We live in a big country.
And yet, in some ways, not so big.
I’ve been treated to both perspectives in the past year, most recently in late March when I drove from San Diego, Calif., to Easthampton, Mass., in two and a half days.
This was at least my sixth time driving across the entire U.S., and I can’t count how many times I’ve driven partially across. But I’ve never made the trip in such a compacted time frame, and wouldn’t necessarily recommend it. Before this drive, the last time I traversed the country was via bicycle, in summer 2021.
Across the United States by bicycle: 68 days. Big country.
Across the United States by car: 2 ½ days. Maybe not so big.
There was something beautiful and fluid and thorough in this exercise of sprinting from coast to coast by car in a truncated period. It allowed for a nearly uninterrupted portrait of the country – of the narrow strip through which I traveled anyway. From the Pacific’s glow to the desert’s aridity, the spectacular mountains bifurcating the middle, the interminable flatness of the vast Midwest, and finally the infinite trees and rolling hills of the eastern states.
This quick trip also allowed for a survey of radio stations across the land, from the Mexican music of the southwest near the border to the broad selection of country music, endless religious proselytizing across the Midwest, rock, bluegrass, pop, hip hop, talk, and a small dose of classical and jazz, in that order.
Across the Mojave Again
This drive was a functional traverse. It followed a wonderful three-day excursion with my daughter, Livvy, from Phoenix to San Diego in her Honda Fit, which she has appropriately named Buttercup. The plan was to get her to San Diego, from where she would work her way to the terminus of the Pacific Crest Trail to begin a five-month thru-hike. I was to then drive her car back to Massachusetts for safekeeping while she hikes.
Our three-day drive took us across the Mojave Desert, along the same route I happened to bike last summer.
This was a surreal experience for me. When I biked last summer, from Parker, Arizona, to Twentynine Palms, California, a 111-mile stretch through unforgivingly hot, exposed terrain, it was a daylong ordeal through the 107-degree heat of July. It stands out as one of the most intense days of riding – of my life! – I’ve ever had.
Driving along the same route with Livvy took less than two hours, in an air-conditioned capsule with windows closed and a podcast piped over the speakers. Crossing the desert in a car gives no hint to what it’s like on bike. Crossing the country in a car is equally as distinct from a coast-to-coast traverse by bicycle.
Alien Encounter?
Traveling with my daughter was a true joy that went by far too fast. Our senses of humor are ridiculously in sync and we laughed our way through California.
Except, we weren’t laughing on our second night, when we camped out on Bureau of Land Management land outside Joshua Tree and were buzzed by either A) a highly experimental, but human-made, flying device that looked and sounded like nothing I’ve ever seen or heard; or B) an alien ship. Read the story here.
Still flummoxed but seemingly undisturbed the next morning, we drove three hours to San Diego and stayed in Ocean Beach, where I lived as a younger iteration in the late 1980s.
Driving Through the Night
To drive coast to coast across the United States in 2 ½ days, you’ll need to put in some long stretches.
I set out from San Diego on March 18 at 10:15 a.m. and drove through the day, passing through Albuquerque at 11:30 p.m., then through the night up into Texas, across the Oklahoma panhandle and into Kansas on a small, deserted highway. In Kansas, I spotted a pullover picnic area at 5:30 a.m. and stopped in for a snooze. One hour later, the sun blazed on me through the windshield and the snooze was over.
I took the wheel again and headed east through the day. By the time I stopped for a needed overnight and a bed, outside St. Louis, I had driven nearly 30 hours interrupted only by the one-hour nap in Kansas.
I should mention, my energy was fueled by a succession of convenience store coffee. I’m not a coffee drinker, so when I drink that caffeine-injected liquid, it jolts me for many hours. Cheap date.
Fortified after a solid hotel sleep, I headed for home at 8 a.m. on March 20, arriving in Easthampton, Mass., at close to 2 a.m. the morning of March 21, a 15-hour drive.
Waiting to Move
Thankfully, I love to drive. Give me open road and a tank full of gas and I’m gone. Add in coffee and decent tunes and I’m good for hours on end, even days.
But it’s more accurate to say, I love moving. The mode of transportation is secondary. Bike, car, walking, paddling. Give me constantly changing scenery, the sensation of locomotion and the notion of covering ground and I’m happy.
That’s how I arrived back home following my whirlwind excursion to California with my daughter. Happy. To have moved, to have spent time on the adventure road again.
The time in between is simply waiting for the next chance to head out and move.
