Since we’re taking a road trip, I leave you with a poem I wrote about my almost coast to coast solo road trip.

Interstate into Infinity
copyright 2000 Charlene Teglia

Following the pilgrim hat, I took the Mass Pike into forever
Or to the Berkshires, whichever came first
Through forests and over rivers
Riding the gas pedal across the border
New York Throughway and a series of toll booths
Rest stops peopled by sleeping truckers
Counting the miles amazed to see
How quickly they peel off in hundreds
Through the long night, into forever
How far will Interstate 90 take me?
As far as Rochester, to a faded room with no heat
And a kind night clerk who offered me a space heater,
Filled the coffee urn and gave me directions back to the I
I slept there for a few hours, body humming
With the vibrations of a day on the road
Stretched taut by the distance between two points
Point of origin now an infinite number of points away on this line
Infinity fills my head and gas fills my tank
The gas station attendant confirming the desk clerk’s message
And my tired memory turns out to be a fellow
Pilgrim from the West Coast, a friendly smile from home
And I drive through Buffalo after watching the sunrise
Knowing it will next rise for me in Iowa
After Cleveland and Chicago are distant points on the line
That is I-80 now, point of origin ever receding
I travel through cornfields and discover Nebraska
The point of origin for the Flat Earth Society, I think
And here I believe it in spite of the proof of
Satellite pictures taken from space and Newton’s arguments;
This line I travel takes me to a Nissan dealer who
Can’t tell me why my alternator light is on

So I drive to Wyoming, to a point outside Cheyenne
And a rest stop where the line intersects with
The mechanic from LA who shares my point of origin
And present position; this trip back west from the east
Is full of wandering Pacific Northwesterners
And he solves the mystery of the alternator with a bolt
“That’ll hold,” he tells me
Another friendly smile from home
A wave as he passes me later
And he is right; the bolt holds through highway construction
And twilight deer, through miles of open country
So wild and wide that the dust tastes of heaven
I follow the line with the wind of Wyoming in my heart
Drunk on strong coffee and the sight of red rock
Following the line across the last border
Where a bawling calf stares in confusion at the Interstate
“How did I get here?” on his red and white face
Both of us trying to get home
I’m cutting through the route the truckers use,
Cutting off Utah, straight into Idaho
I hope I find my way
I hope the rancher finds the calf
More miles peeling off behind me like hundreds off a high roller
Up into the thousands now
Racing across flat desert with the conies
More miles, more points mark the line of my present geometry
Infinity crossed in spite of Zeno’s paradox
I come to rest in Boise
Proof that you can go home again.