I am a sucker for road songs. Back in the 90’s, people used to perform this quaint practice of going into music stores and buying CD’s. I picked one up that sounded good to this road song junkie, the “I-10 Chronicles”. It’s a compilation of various artists, and it features music that one might hear along the interstate 10 between Los Angeles and Texas. I bought it without listening to nary a track. I got lucky — it has some great, eclectic tunes. In fact, one of the tracks is named “Are you Listening Lucky”. I say, “Yes. Yes I am”.
A couple weeks ago, as I drove away from the Los Angeles area headed toward Arizona, some of the album’s lyrics were rolling around in my head.
If I can just get off of this LA freeway without getting killed or caught
I’d be down that road in a cloud of smoke for some land that I ain’t boughtAdios to all this concrete, got to get me some dirt road back streets
The I-10 is the main southern interstate, and the primary route between Los Angeles and the city I’ve called home for more than 30 years — Phoenix. I’ve had two camping areas in recent weeks that were pretty close to the I-10.
The first was our home for four nights.
It was a primitive “dry camp” on a ridge overlooking I-10. It was far enough away that highway noise was not an issue, but close enough that I could clearly see the cars and trucks passing by. And many of them would turn into the nearby rest area where food/coffee and gasoline were available.
In my current location, I am on Bureau of Land Management land about 50 miles west of Phoenix. I am further from the I-10 — about 3 miles as the crow flies — but I can also see the cars as they move along.
In each of these two camping areas, I enjoy sitting in the pitch dark outside my little camper with Sally and Trax at my feet, sipping a glass of wine, and alternating between star-gazing and watching the lights of the vehicles on the interstate. The lights never stop coming. I wonder about the people inside each vehicle and what their story is for the snapshot of time they are zooming down the interstate into the night.
If they are truckers, I know they are on the job. Making a living for their families. Many others are traveling for the recent Thanksgiving holiday.
If they are RV’s or camp trailers, I figure they are either on their way to or from a vacation, or are like me, living in their home on wheels and on the way to the next stop. But I wonder why they are making the trip at night. Did they leave work at the end of the day and want to get to the beach by sunrise? Or are they headed home after lingering at the campground a bit longer? Or do they do the campground equivalent of “dine and dash”? That’s when you arrive after the attendant has gone home and leave before they open up again – and do it without adhering to the honor system that most camps use — grrrr.
Other interstate drivers might be business travelers – on the way to or from LA for a trade show or an important product demonstration. Some might be excited to get to a concert or a sporting event. Others might be heading to or from a family emergency. Or returning to the family homestead to deal with the passing of a loved one. Maybe they are moving in search of a new opportunity. Or returning home after a failed one.
I know nothing of these people that I observe from a distance. But we often have a story at any given moment in our lives, and at that moment it can be the most important thing on the planet to us.
My story for now (that is, when I am not playing peeping Tom on the cars that drive by me), is that I’ve been on an amazing nearly 5-month adventure. About 50 more miles for me this week on this I-10. We will still be in our littler camper house, but will be near friends and much of what’s familiar for at least the next couple months. I’m ready for that.
ALERT: In the paragraph above when I state, “I enjoy sitting in the pitch dark outside my little camper with Sally and Trax at my feet, sipping a glass of wine, and…”, let me be clear. I am drinking the wine – not the dogs. Neither Sally nor Trax are old enough.
Thanks for following along with us!!
I, too, think about the stories all around me: the ever-cheerful 70-something lady at McDonald’s who seems to love her work more than anything else… the lady at the stop sign who is not paying attention, perhaps daydreaming about her fantastic date the night before.
I am reminded of This part of Simon and Garfunkel’s song “America”: Laughing on the bus, playing games with the faces. she said the man in the gaberdine suit was a spy. I said be careful his bow tie is really a camera.”
It reminded me of laying in the grass as a kid, watching planes go by slowly overhead and wondering where all the people were going and what they were going to do, and wanting to go there too.
Looking forward to being able to meet up when you get here!!
I think it’s important to do things in life while one is still able to do so and enjoy such.
The most Linda and I have been on the road camping at one time is about three weeks. And that was usually after her fall college classes were over around the first of December during the college holiday break before the New Years. Most of the time we’d head to the warm lands of Arizona and often stopped to visit a couple of desert rats in Phoenix (Eileen and Charly :-).
The photo of the small plane coming in for a landing in the above photo reminded me of my flying days as a student pilot (1974) and … my flight instructor. He married a lady also infected with the flying bug and the two of them spent their honeymoon flying from Ohio to California and back in a vintage, two-seater, opened cockpit Waco biplane. This plane is easy to land anywhere – no pavement needed.
In the early evenings during their honeymoon, they would scout out (from the air) nice places to land and camp and would land the plane in areas no one would even notice their presence – no reservations, registrations and or daily camping fees. They’d pitch a small tent, collect firewood and fix their evening meal and morning breakfast … and off they’d go again.
Eileen, do the dogs get motion sickness? :-)
What a great story about the fliers! The dogs travel pretty well.
In Missouri we call your people observations “people watching”…something I learned at an early age. Mom’s beauty shop and Grandpa’s real estate office both had large windows facing the busy, buzzing main street of Lutesville…especially on the weekend. Both of these enterprises were located in Mom’s big Victorian house with a big front yard that was strategically located between two local “watering holes”. You just never new what would happen next. Glad you made your way safely back to Phoenix.