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Oh my lord, chilluns, what a life I lead now. Never was a matter of being normal. More like trying and failing and landing on the other side. Oh, the wages of sin! I did everything crazy. Just look at what it got me: here I am shooting across America on a Tuesday afternoon. The road is smooth and empty. The air is perfect. It’s like ingesting raw god. We’re talking chromosomal thrill. Are you listening dammit. Before this is all over, I’m going to end up having proved something. I’m just not sure what.

My wife drove this stretch of Colorado Highway 10 while I shot pictures through the windshield or out the window. It’s best heading west in late afternoon, so you see the mountains and volcanic cones. I took over at US 160 on the other side of Walsenburg to drive us over La Veta Pass. The eight-mile climb to 9,431 feet bogs a lot of drivers down, but I go flying by, even in the supposedly underpowered Vibe with the little Corolla engine. What you have to do is charge the mountain. There isn’t going to be a speed trap going up, right? I usually try for eighty in fourth gear, about 4,000 rpm, and that will hold it there if no one blocks my climbing lane. Today I caught some gravity in a dip halfway up the mountain and touched ninety in fourth, which took us nearly to the summit before I had to downshift into third. What a rush!

There was a semi in front of me for the descent to Fort Garland on the other side. A chicken truck, actually, and he (?) was an unpassable demon doing 75 to 80 mph, tall stacks of chicken cages swaying back and forth, poor goddamn chickens thinking what the holy hell with feathers blowing back at us like autumn leaves. By the time the truck got to wherever it was going, those birds were probably all naked! I could have made the wildest video.

My wife said, “That was masterful!” Twice, in fact. I told her we hit 90 mph and she laughed. Love is so exciting. Are you listening dammit. Nothing normal, everything crazy, old as atom bombs.

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You’re going to get tired of these, so I’ll just say it was another one of those days. Absolutely stunning weather (if windy), high energy, rising power. On the human side, free-form adaptation. Things sliding into place. I could use more of whatever this is. I don’t know how to capture it in a photograph. The atmosphere was, well, electric. Brilliant. Stirring.

This is New Mexico in the first crackle of the fall. We have a full load of wood. It’s perfectly dry five-hundred year-old piñon. Hit two hunks together and they ring. The sun heats the pile and you can smell the promise. My heart already burns. It’s all okay.

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This is my wife’s car. (I drive an old truck for now.) It’s also what we take on trips. From Taos to Mankato, Minnesota is about eleven hundred miles, and we’ll be on the road a bunch longer than we’ll be stopped. A real road trip, then. This will have a different focus than just hauling our asses and gear to my sister-in-law’s place and having no responsibilities for a week. The primary environment won’t be the condo in Dubuque but the inside of the car and where we find ourselves. That means we get to have and do whatever we want along the way.

Fine ergonomics and style

The cockpit is one of the reasons I wanted us to get this car. There’s a fine meaty steering wheel. The gauges are round like God intended and have chrome rims. The rest is shiny and obvious. Nothing fancy, but it works. We almost never listen to the radio or play CDs because we like to have the windows open. (I do both when I’m alone, but my ears are already blown.) Always on the back roads, stop whenever we want for any reason. We almost never see a cop. It makes you like America again.

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I was washing the car the way I do before a trip. No way will I head on down the road in a dirty machine. This was taking care of business, then, and yet extremely satisfying.

I’d already been under the hood. The engine was pretty wholesome to start with, except for some dust. But I clean everything I can, all the painted surfaces: the underside of the hood, the perimeter of the engine compartment, the door frames, the edges of the doors. And then I do the interior. I have this amazing German chemical crap that shines up all the black plastic. I wipe the dust off the upholstery with big wet towels. I organize the glovebox. I check my tools in the back. All this work so the car can get plastered with bugs by the middle of the first day! But I was in my element. Completely grounded. As natural as I could be.

This is only news if you’re a lunatic. (Remember, I’m the guy who just discovered air.) That evening the heavens caught fire. After that a storm rolled by and chased the cat in. This morning someone told me—speaking of a different issue that’s bedeviled me—”When things align they align. Until that space relax into your life.”

Set me to pondering, too. I don’t think I’ve ever relaxed into my life! Maybe yesterday a little. So many messages, so little sense.

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