One Bold Crone

Made it into magical New Mexico today, from across the Great Plains of Oklahoma and the high plains of the Texas panhandle where majestic wind farms tower over diminutive fields of cotton.

But first, the OBC caravan had to leave the country-urban sprawl of Oklahoma City. Daybreak through the windshield showed a pearly round moon tumbling down the western sky. Under a light mist with foreboding dark clouds ahead, traffic slowed. Thankfully my prayers the storm would lift were answered, and I was not obliged to drive through heavy rain—or any rain at all. Strangely, the damp pavement under my tires distinctly sounded like a Native American chant. I could hear it not just in my head, but in the car: a tune I almost recognized which kept repeating. I remembered I was in Cherokee Nation territory, and I recalled the suffering of all the people driven from that land. Tragedy.

Later, driving through the Great Plains I remembered the buffalo, once plentiful in that vast windblown space. It was almost as if I could see their humped backs and shaggy brown bodies, just as I had surely heard the singing earlier, rising up from the paved earth, transmitted through my tires. Were these phenomena hallucinations, or imaginings? Past life memories, perhaps? Or could they simply be quantum field experiences of multiple timeline perception, inextricably tied to the land? The latter is probably the most logical, scientific explanation. What do you think? Has anything like this ever happened to you? I’d love to hear in the comments below.

It took longer to cross the Texas panhandle than the panhandle in Pennsylvania because, wait for it… everything’s bigger in Texas. (Sorry.) Near the end of that great state, about 15 miles from the New Mexico border, I was startled by a sudden change of scenery. Literally drove over a hill, and as if a magic wand had been waved, flat plains were instantly replaced with distinctly western motifs. A distant mesa, a pyramidal butte, scrub oak, sagebrush, sand. My heart leapt! Timi, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore. Here he is gazing East into the wind, a moment of farewell. Westward ho! 🌵OBC🦉

Waiting for the sun to come up here in Oklahoma City so I can head on out I-40 West, a new I. Three states again today…

So, here’s my big news. Looks like I crossed the seam! The seam in my 2023 Rand McNally Road Atlas, that is—a thoughtful and much appreciated gift from my dear friends, the Aunes. I’ve been using it every day. Indispensable! Because you know what they say: There are Maps. And there are Rand McNally.🌵OBC🦉

Day three of this journey traversed three states—from starting out in St. Louis, Illinois, to continuing across the entire state of Missouri, and ending up in Oklahoma City. Today’s car to truck ratio on the road was about 50/50, more balanced than yesterday, but the gruesome deer carnage on I-44 approached that of I-70, a gory truth I refrained from mentioning before.

In Joplin, Missouri we visited Grand Falls, a somewhat less than grand dam with an unusual and stunning stone shore, all conveniently located only a couple miles from the Interstate.

Dense cloud formations billowed above Missouri and Oklahoma, causing the long straight highway before me to shimmer for hours in the low and muted sun. Strong winds buffeted my car, also for hours. You know that song about Oklahoma? They weren’t kidding. To be honest, I found it quite tiring, being buffeted around all day. Fortunately, it was a short one, with only 7 1/2 hours or so of drive time.

The big windy sky was still blue at 4:30 when we arrived the hotel, but soon it grew luminous gold and pink. Which is how I wound up not at the love truck stop enterance at sunset.

PS I have decided to add another day to the trip, in order to keep my daily driving time at 7.5 hours max. I need to stop more often than anticipated, for the pets and to ground and refresh myself between 2-3 hour stints hauling ass on the highway. So, instead of being hump day, today is actually a halfway point. Three days down three to go. See you in New Mexico next! 🌵OBC🦉

First off, the big news is Clyde peed!!

He’d been “holding it in” ever since we left Monday morning, and frankly, after two days I was concerned. But at some point during last night’s wee hours, the travel litter box was employed. What a relief for both of us.

Yesterday I think Clyde was still a little groggy from the gabapentin, which I only gave him the one time. Both he and Timi were very quiet in the car yesterday, sleeping for most of that long haul. Today will be shorter, but it’s still 8+ hours to Oklahoma City. I think some kind of rhythm will be established in their minds today, it being Wednesday: Day 3. They are both very smart animals. They know we are going somewhere.

And indeed, we are… 🌵OBC🦉

Today’s travels began in the eerie darkness of a full moon total eclipse. So how fitting to be skirting the edge of Lake Erie at 6:30 AM. Our little hybrid caravan passed quickly out of New York State into the neat square tip of Pennsylvania. An hour later we were entering Ohio, heading toward our first Interstate exchange: quitting I 90 W for I70 W via numerous connectors and a detour.

In 10 hours total of driving time, the main vehicles sharing the road with me were trucks. I spent a lot of the day passing trucks and allowing trucks to pass me. Amicably taking turns. When driving through broad fields in wide-open space, it made for a pleasant pastime.

The most beautiful and uplifting sight on the road today, however, were not trucks, but several flocks of birds flying in vast ellipsis swirls, flowing with the grace of one unified organism. Isn’t there a name for this phenomenon? If anyone reading this remembers, please let me know below in the comments!

So yes, between the birds and the trucks and the pitstops for walking and watering pets, not to mention refueling, we crossed 5 states in 11 hours today—from New York to Pennsylvania and then Ohio, south and west through Indiana and finally Illinois, where at last we landed at a Drury Inn & Suites in Fairview Heights (outside of St Louis).

Dinners have been eaten, AMC is showing Jaws, Timi is resting next to the bed and Clyde purrs by my side. Two days down, three to go… Sweet dreams to all🦉🌵OBC

Day one was full of surprises. I had the car all loaded up by 6:20 with Timi in his travel crate behind my seat, and Clyde in his travel crate in the way back… or so I thought. We took off in the dark and Clyde was being awfully quiet. I figured it was the gabapentin kicking in, but felt like I’d better check. So after driving for nearly one hour, I pulled into a Rest Area to make sure he was okay.

Imagine my surprise to find Clyde’s crate was empty! Only then did I notice the partially unzipped side door. (I had put him in via the crate’s front door.) Evidently Houdini Cat had slipped out the back before we ever drove off.

Moments later I received a text from my next door neighbor alerting me that she had just seen Clyde through her window, wearing his harness and dragging his leash behind. 🤦🏻‍♀️

Long story short, I turned around at the next exit, drove back home, picked Clyde up at the house (by this time he had pulled a Peter Rabbit— somehow slipping out of his harness with attached leash and losing them both), and departed for the second time, at 9:00 AM.

A quick stop at the pet store to purchase a new, more secure (I hope) harness-leash combo, and a new, more secure crate (he tore open a hole in the first one, en route to the pet store!) and finally we were on our way.

Seven hours and 469 miles later we arrived at our first pet-friendly hotel of the journey, located in Dunkirk, NY—a town right next-door to Fredonia, NY where, random memory alert, I think my brother went to prep school a million years ago.

Hoping for a good nights rest in preparation for a big 10-hr day tomorrow. That’s all for now. See you in St. Louis!

In November 2022, I loaded up my car and left the old New England farmhouse which, for the previous quarter century, had been my only home, to spend winter in the California desert. When spring arrived, I drove back East; when autumn leaves began to fall, I headed West again…

The journey is just under 3,000 miles long, and takes about a week to complete in a 2012 Prius C. My travel companions are a dog and a cat. This is our story. One dog. One cat. One bold crone. (At 62 63 years old, I am admittedly a very fairly young crone, but unquestionably no spring chicken.)

If you would like to follow along, the place to do so is here. Check back for updates or subscribe to the RSS feed and be notified of new postings. See you on the road! 🌵OBC🦉

*updated 4/29/23 , 10/3/23