Garvey

My brother and I started West on 13 August, a journey that will take us from Northern Virginia down through Tennessee, Arkansas, Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, Nevada, into Southern California, where we are picking up a friend, seeing a few other friends, and then heading north, hopefully up the 101 along the coast for a bit, maybe to San Francisco, and eventually to Lake Tahoe in Northern California, near Reno.

Our first day of travel -- roughly 425 miles down I-81 -- took us through Virginia, into Eastern Tennessee, and eventually to Knoxville. My brother knew a little back route from my mother's house out in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains to Interstate 66, a winding road that took us by beautiful, extravagant farm houses owned by Virginia families who garnered their wealth from horses, crops, the extensive tracts of land they own, or other sources of good fortune.

From the notes I've been occasionally scribbling on the road:

"[This backroad has taken us by] gravel-lined railway tracks, weeping willows bleeding out over the rails, with the sun, after slipping between the swaying tendrils, playing off of the various surfaces, at times enhancing them, other times bleaching out the softer hues... It's beautiful here along this lost and winding road."

688 took us almost all the way to Front Royal, and soon after we exited from 66 onto 81 and began our trek southwest. At first, that part of the journey slipped by easily -- at least for me as it was the third time this year that I have been down the stretch of road leading from Virginia to Knoxville. Later, though, as we approached Bristol, the last Virginian city on 81, the sky opened up and torrential rains cut our visibility down to almost nothing at times. Once a car or a tractor trailer moved fifteen feet away from our vehicle, we had to strain to see their red tail lights. Some cretins driving an SUV didn't even have their lights on, flying by our car in excess of 60 miles per hour. Neither my brother nor I spotted them in a ditch once the sporadic, frightening downpours ceased; I'm often amazed how stupidity is rewarded, or at least not punished. I'm glad they didn't cause harm to anyone else.

Once the weather cleared, we made good time to Knoxville, despite the fact that the entire section of Interstate 40 West was closed by the city. We took an exit leading us downtown and grabbed a drink at the Urban City Bar and Cafe, a locale that my roommate Alan and I discovered on our first trip to Knoxville this past January, and, as before, the bar staff assisted in helping us find a place to stay that night.

Due to the suddenness of the trip -- one that I thought had been canceled, sparking back to life almost as suddenly as it died -- my brother and I are traveling on a rather limited budget. Due to our financial concerns, we bedded down for the night at a Super 8 just outside of Knoxville, near McKay Used Books off Papermill Place Way. After showering, a welcome relief from the heat of the day and the tension of the rains, we proceeded to start on the bottle of Sailor Jerry rum we picked up. Anyone who has stayed at a budget hotel like Super 8 knows that a little alcohol (or other chemicals) can be quite helpful in making one come to terms with the situation you've put yourself in, to eventually accept or overcome them, and to finally sleep.

Today started early, my alarm clock startling me from an uncomfortable sleep at eight in the morning. By nine the car was repacked, our room keys had been returned, and we headed to McKay’s to browse for a few minutes. I found a copy of Norman Mailer's The Deer Park for a dollar, and my brother Karl found the second part of Batman: Knightfall (he had already read the first trade paperback, but had been without luck when searching for its companions), Chris Ryall and Ashley Wood's Zombies vs. Robots, and Leah Moore's Raise The Dead.

By 09:30 we were back on I-40 West, slipping along the dense green corridors of thick forest lining the highway. As I wrote to my editor at It's A Trap!:

"Tennessee was a bit desolate west of Knoxville, only blistering to life around Nashville and Memphis, and Arkansas was a strange, flat expanse, dotted every hundred miles or so with a depressingly sparse, run-down little town. We didn't see Little Rock, I-40 swerved too sharply around it, so -- at least as far as we know -- there is very little in Arkansas. Oklahoma has been the most beautiful country we've driven through, a mix of the visibility we had in Arkansas due to the flatness, but instead of continuing on endlessly into the horizon, the views in Oklahoma have had a few hills, trees, much more varied and interesting landscapes to stare out at. The beautiful sunset didn't hurt our first impressions either."

The sunset was truly beautiful -- a slow fade behind low hanging, windswept clouds.

Arkansas was a strange experience, and one that I am glad I was exposed to from behind the windows of a moving vehicle. Billboards promoted Jesus and Christianity almost as much, if not more, than the cheap hotel and restaurant chains that line this nation's interstates. The only building that we saw in Arkansas -- though as I wrote Avi (owner and editor-in-chief of It’s A Trap!), we didn't see much -- that could be described as ‘decent looking’ was the First Pentecostal Church near Little Rock. Judging from its size, it was most likely a megachurch. A trucker we passed had a roadmap to Jesus (and away from Sin) emblazoned on the rear of his semi. God's Country is also dotted with Cracker Barrels.

Karl and I decided to stop at one of the casinos in the Cherokee Nation, just over the Oklahoma-Arkansas border, but, because of the semi-dry nature of the county (only beer, no liquor), we soon abandoned the casino (and its hotel where we had initially thought to stay), and continued down 40 until we hit Henryetta.

Once again, my brother and I are in a Super 8. This one is worse than its Tennessean counterpart. The aging air-conditioner is fighting an all out battle against the sickly damp and humidity. It's been faring a bit better as evening blurred into nightfall.

Tomorrow we head to Albuquerque, and then on to Vegas the next day.