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On the Road with Kevin
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Entry 8
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Where is Bon Jovi when you need him? Probably off making another movie about a submarine or something. The Bon Jovi reference is, of course, just a mild attempt at some humor to bring up the state of New Jersey, as I was now leaving New York City and beebopping and skatting down the Jersey Turnpike. And in case you were wondering … No. I have never bought, nor will I ever, a Bon Jovi album, though I do appreciate the passion and zeal he brings to his craft. I’ll leave the purchasing of his music to all the girls from my seventh grade class with their big hair and leg warmers.
 New York City is an incredible place and an unquestionable feast for the senses, but it sure seems to zap your energy pretty quickly if you’re out exploring around. I left NYC fairly late at night, as I just felt ready to get out of the city for a bit and start making my way south. I wanted to drive as far as my tired mind would let me that night, and find a somewhat quiet place to hit the sack. After going through a stretch of road emblazoned with more tollbooths than you can shake a stick at, I ended up in Newark, Delaware. I was beginning to think Jersey was actually some kind of strange foreign word for tollbooth.
Now come on … Do we really need a tollbooth every 7.3 miles?
I awoke the next morning in Newark to gorgeous, sunny skies and a hankering to scout out the University of Delaware, because as we all know, it’s the home of that fierce and ferocious mascot of mascots – the Delaware Fightin’ Blue Hen. I know. Doesn’t just the sound of the name even have you running for the streets, cowering in fear? I’m just kidding, Delaware, as I actually think it’s one of those cool team nicknames that stand out for how unique they are, very much like the Cal-Santa Cruz Banana Slugs. You laugh, but I’m not making that one up.
 Less air pressure in Delaware. Well, I didn’t get too far in my quest, though, because I got that sinking feeling (literally) that I had a flat tire. Yep. Flat tire in Delaware. Now I was wishing I hadn’t made that crack about the Blue Hen, as I could use his help. I know how to change a flat tire, mind you, but I’m just a little slow in the process.
A police officer saw me working on the tire in a parking lot (think of the classic A Christmas Story scene), and came over to offer her assistance. And sure enough, between our two bright minds, the flimsy-piece-of-crap jack that came with my vehicle somehow managed to break under the weight of the rig. I’ll leave out comments here, though, about how we pulled the jack out of her vehicle and she didn’t have all the correct components, or was slightly unsure of how to use it.
So anyway, I broke down and called a tow truck just so we could use his jack to get the spare tire on. I must say the officer was extremely nice and made sure everything was going to work out OK. I got the new tire without any annoyances, and was ready to continue on with the rest of the day, although now it was a little later than I had bargained for. All in all, however, I figured it had been a pretty fortuitous trip so far if the only problem I had had up to this point was a minor flat tire.
 I got back on I-95 and kept heading south through Delaware and Maryland as I was heading to Alexandria, Virginia this night to catch up with “Emma.” I smiled a wry smile as I passed through Baltimore and tipped my hat (even though I wasn’t wearing one) to the sign for Camden Yards. As I may have mentioned before, I had already been to D.C. in the past, so I just kept following the road, making a big loop around D.C. to the east, and came upon the pleasant city of Alexandria. It was dark by this point, but the downtown area had that romantic, comfortable, down-by-the-water feel to it for some reason. And it wasn’t just because parts of it WERE down by the water.
Italian is always a good choice. Emma and I agreed to meet at a small, Ma and Pa Italian restaurant that she likes to go to. Through all of our emails and a few conversations, Emma just seemed like she would be a nice, easy person to be around. You know the kind of person where you can just sort of relax, and it doesn’t take a lot of effort to be around them? That kind of personality was sounding pretty welcoming on this night, as I had just recently left NYC and was still feeling a little wiped out from the drawn-out escapade with the flat tire earlier in the day. Emma works at a college in Alexandria, and is involved in various aspects of a youth mentoring program as well as other associations.
I was the first one to arrive again, which has sort of been par for the course on this trip. I still feel it’s harder to be the first person when you’re initially meeting someone, but I suppose it’s a lot better than the other way around … You definitely don’t want to be the guy making the gal wait. She walked in the door and was pretty recognizable, as she closely matched the photos I had seen of her. She looked my way and I gave her a smile as if to acknowledge, “Hey, you must be Emma.” But she just casually looked away and continued glancing around the place. So I got up, walked over to her, and again with an acknowledging look on my face, I said, “Hey, how’s it going?”
 Is you is who I think you is? She just said, “fine,” and turned her head to the menu up on the board. So then, of course, I’m thinking that maybe it’s ME who’s got the wrong gal, and that’s not really Emma at all. There were only a few other patrons in the restaurant at the time (most much older than I), so I thought that surely she would have known it was me, if it was indeed her to begin with. I regrouped and stated, “Is your name Emma?” She turned and said, “Yes” with a look that seemed to suggest, how on earth did you know that? And I’m reeling, thinking you’ve got to be kidding me … she does know she’s meeting a guy here tonight, doesn’t she?
Anyway, we got it all sorted out and did determine that, yes – she was the Emma that I was meeting, and I was the Kevin that she was meeting. Pheeewww. Hard work. We sat down, ordered a pizza, and started talking about Virginia as well as many other things. She was wearing a white T-shirt with a long-sleeved denim shirt over it, and had kind of wispy, below the shoulders, brunette hair. She has a calm demeanor that really seemed to match the way she dressed and carried herself. I think that’s been true with most everyone I had met on the trip so far, though, and probably most people that you tend to meet in life in general … After speaking with somebody for a little while, you can often sense that their personality does indeed resemble the way they carry or present themselves (notice I said after meeting someone – not judging a book by its cover).
As we continued talking throughout the night, I got the impression that she reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t quite place it. After some time, though, I grasped it. Although Emma has darker hair, her eyes and her mannerisms are very reminiscent of Reese Witherspoon, and Emma remarked that she actually gets that comment a lot from numerous other people too. We were having a good time conversing and getting to know each other, and had talked of heading downtown to walk around and go check out the water. It was getting late, however, and I think we both were getting the feeling of something else … I thought she was attractive and interesting, but there maybe just wasn’t that connection that either of us was looking for. And I believe she was feeling the same way as well.
 West or South. Therefore, Emma and I parted ways amicably and we mentioned to keep in touch. Now I had a decision to make, though … I wanted to drive a few hours that night so the next day wouldn’t be so brutal, but I was torn between going west or south. This is some of the fun of the trip for sure, as it’s kind of nice to have a few different options open and be able to make a decision on the fly as to what will happen next, or even where I’ll sleep for the night.
I had also been corresponding with a gal from Atlanta named “Lisa,” and I was trying to determine if it would work out to be able to see her. We had talked on the phone over the last day or so, and she was fairly certain she would be out of town for the next several days as part of a crew event that was taking place. Yeah, that’s crew. As in water and boats and such. I know, I know – they’re probably not called boats, but work with me here, folks. More importantly, though, I think it’s pretty awesome that she’s involved with such an intrepid sport, and she’s even the captain of her team. Unfortunately, I had been trying to reach her to get an update on her status, but it just wasn’t panning out.
Also, Atlanta was pretty far out of the way for where I would otherwise want to be heading next. I think I was realizing I was already getting tired of the some of the driving, and I still had a long distance to go, so it would be a tough risk to drive down to Atlanta with the very slim chance of being able to meet Lisa. It’s too bad, as she seemed rather intriguing and I was looking forward to the opportunity to learn more about her.
Ok, so West it is. For all you skiers out there, you know the feeling you get when you point your tips down the fall line and just let ‘er rip? Well, that’s kind of what the next couple days of this experience were like, as I just knew the next stop I needed to make was Lincoln, Nebraska, but I ultimately didn’t really care how I got there. So I just pointed the hood of my car west, and went after it, waiting to see what unfolded. Here, then, are a few highlights of how I got from the East Coast to the Cornhusker state. I’m leaving out all the parts, though, about guns, fisticuffs, duels, rodeos, cowboy boots, rattlesnakes, and grizzly bears:
~ Spent that first night after Alexandria in Cumberland, Maryland. The rolling hills of Maryland are amazing. Very similar to a Colorado resort feel with sparkling lodges off in the distance.
 ~ The next morning, briefly entered West Virginia. Go Mountaineers! I was eventually wanting to hook up with I-70 West at some point. I tried watching a movie on my laptop again, as I had tried at the beginning of the trip. Yeah … wouldn’t really recommend that, and gave it up after five minutes for fear of plowing into a fir tree.
~ Jumped the state line into Pennsylvania and caught up with I-70 West. The lakes, rivers, mountains, and so on in this whole area are simply astounding.
 ~ Boy, how I only wish a state would put a big, giant arch over the road. Entered Ohio and started heading to Columbus, which is a much larger city than I thought. My goal was to get to Indianapolis and decide from there whether to go north or south to get to Lincoln (I was toying with the idea of going through St. Louis, as I’ve never been and have a buddy there as well).
~ Got to Indianapolis and made the executive decision to just keep heading to Lincoln, so I hopped on I-74 West. It had been a LOT of driving, and I just wanted to keep forging ahead.
 ~ Crossed over into Illinois and it was starting to get dark by this point. I kept rumbling on, eventually stopping for the night in LeClaire, Somewhere. When I woke up the next morning, I discovered I had just crept across the state line, and LeClaire was actually in Iowa. So, wow … In only one day I had driven through MD, WV, PA, OH, IN, IL, and IA.
~ Caught I-80 West at this point, and passed the birthplace of John Wayne in Desoto, IA. Finally made it to Nebraska and Omaha, home of the College World Series for baseball. Can I just mention here how NICE it is to see actual mile markers on the road again? Roads back east didn’t have any mile markers, and you end up having no clue where you’re at half the time.
 I’d give my right arm for some corn. Well, I suppose one might be indubitably stumped as to why in the world I would actually desire to go through Lincoln, Nebraska of all places. Glad you’re curious. It just so happens I was born in Lincoln, and much of my extended family still lives in the area. For many a summer growing up, we would load up the car and trek on over to Lincoln, so it’s always a homecoming of sorts to be in the city again. To this day even, it still has a familiar smell that immediately shoots me back to those years ago when we’d be out in the cornfield with my grandpa, checking out that year’s crop as he tugged on his Bill Cosby-esque, Nebraska driving cap. And you can bet your bottom dollar that cap is a pretty cherished item I’m grateful to have since his passing.
 My cool cousin(s) and family. I was also able to spend a great time with my aunt, uncle, cousin, and grandma, all of whom I haven’t seen in a number of years. Man, it just makes you realize that you need to be around each other more often. And my other cousin stopped by as well who I’ve always felt a close kinship with, as she and I were born only a few days apart. It’s not THAT kind of closeness, though … We’re not in Arkansas, after all! See, once again I’m just teasing, Arkansas. Actually, she’s just a really awesome gal, and I think we’ve always had some type of like-minded, simpatico thing going on. She brought her toddler son over, and we had fun catching up again.
 Before leaving Lincoln, I strolled around the university’s campus as well. Growing up in a family originally from Nebraska, you can probably guess what type of affairs we were always keenly interested in on Saturday afternoons. Even driving to and from soccer tournaments on the weekends were spent trying to dial in the call of the Nebraska football game on the radio. We even knew about teams and names from the era when the Huskers where called the Bugeaters, if you can believe that. I initially attended Nebraska for college too, so suffice it to say, it’s incessantly a good, comfortable feeling to be in Nebraska from time to time.
Anyway, I was headed off west yet again, this time to the great state of Wyoming … The Equality State. The state that first gave women the right to vote. The cowboy state, with the likes of Cowboy Joe and others on their buckin’ broncos. And I was bracing myself to encounter the gale forces that inevitably rip through the state, as Wyoming has, HAS to be the absolute windiest state in the lower-48. Until next time … Ciao for now!
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