Friday, April 02, 2004

Hitting the Road

The other day I drove from South Bend to New Jersey. It was a pretty joyless exercise. I hope I’m providing you with some useful information when I tell you that exactly 190 miles from South Bend there is a very nice rest area that has a Starbucks. And that Ohio’s bathrooms are spiffier than Indiana’s. And that the gas is cheaper in Ohio. Or that there is a very nice Dairy Queen in Pennsylvania. Or that radio stations haven’t caught on that new music has been recorded since Jimmy Carter was President. Perhaps my generally foul mood was due to the fact that I had to drive long stretches while it was raining and that at times the weather conditions were so weird that I found myself driving with my lights on--yet still needing my sunglasses. I think, though, my Hoosier ennui was due to how positively unexciting traveling has become these days. Corporate America has so blotted out the old, weird America on our interstates that there’s just about nothing to look forward to. Each place looks pretty much like the last one and will look pretty much like the upcoming one. And those people and places that attempt to rebel against all of this sameness look pretty much the same too. I mean every single waitress I encountered had a pierced tongue. I say all of this with the added knowledge that the car I was in had one of those spiffy GPS systems that can track down any restaurant, any hotel, or any supposed point of interest...and there was nothing on it to entice us. Nothing.

Now my feeling here is that if one takes the time and trouble to travel hundreds of miles then one should be confronted with some serious differences along the way. I happen to think that a central element of the human condition is our desire--actually craving--for new things to look at, read, touch, taste, and so on. But at least on America’s superhighways these differences have all melted away. I realize all too well that I’m not the first person to have decried this homogenizing of the American experience. But it still came as a shock to me that at one point the GPS system informed me that for the next 50 miles the only signs of life were three Hardees restaurants.

Yes, I know that if one is to do any serious traveling then you need to leave Route 80 far behind and travel the lesser byways of this great country. The other summer I did exactly this and was rewarded with little gems like the one sign that said “crushed concrete for sale” and a half mile away another sign that duly warned “prison area: do not pick up hitchhikers.” Can you imagine what would happen if the escaped convicts got a hold of that crushed concrete? A bit further down the road there was a sign mournfully announcing that “18 ½ mile road” was just around the bend. Oh, the chip on the shoulder of those poor folk who have to live on that street. I can just hear the schoolyard taunts of those who live on mile 18 and mile 19 road against those kids stuck in the middle. And on another trip we also drove through Lynchburg, Virginia, unfortunate home address of the Moral Majority. There’s a tacky mall across the street with a huge Victoria’s Secret, but it was here that we had some seriously strange french fries--I mean freedom fries. It seems that the people in this part of our country don’t put ketchup on them but some weird stuff that was part mayo and part cheese. Here was a case where the local customs needed to be blotted out, but I gave it a try and I think I’m a better man for that experience.

In spite of these quirky wonders to be found off the beaten track, the vast sameness of our Route 80s makes me think we’ve got some work ahead of us--especially when foreign tourists drive them. Recall, these interstate highways were set up during the cold war by President Eisenhower ostensibly to help us defend our country from communist attack. Given how unbeloved we are in large sections of the world today, I propose a national security imperative to make these roads a more intriguing place. This way these tourists will see that America is not just one cookie cutter place after another, and that you don’t have to always go deep into the interior to find the true essence of what it means to be an American. It will also, happily, increase my dining pleasures.

Broadcast by Jonathan Nashel on April 02, 2004
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