MATTOLE VALLEY, Calif . — Almost four decades since the last time
we did it, my wife and I have just driven across the United States,
from Washington, D.C. to California. This was done entirely on
Interstate highways, every mile of them divided and most four
lanes. Last time, there were a few divided sections, most into and
out of large cities, but the rest of the trip was made on four,
three and mostly two-lane roads. For the long-term improvement we
can thank President Eisenhower, who proposed the Interstate system
back in the Fifties.
Interspersed along these ribbons of asphalt and concrete are
oases. In the days of camel caravans, an oasis meant a grove of
palm trees, water and grass for the camels. Today, the groves are
of 20-foot steel columns topped by neon signs advertising
McDonald’s, Denny’s, Best Western, Motel Six and the other watering
spots below. There are no discernible differences in the oases from
one state or region to another. It is America homogenized so far as
food and fuel are concerned.
We did, however, come across some notable cultural milestones
along the way:
• It snowed in Nashville the day we drove in from
Knoxville. There they are even less prepared for snow than are
Washingtonians. Dozens of cars had been abandoned on the freeway in
the midst of a four-inch snowfall.
• Arkansas is not all dog-trot cabins and unsold
Whitewater building lots. A long stretch west of Little Rock and
east of Fort Smith goes through foothills between the low ranges of
the Ouachita and Boston Mountains, amidst beautiful pine forests
and blue lakes.
• If you are traveling cross-country with your horse, you
will be pleased to know that the Happy Tracks Horse Motel is but 10
miles west of Amarillo, Texas.
• Ten miles east of Amarillo is Groom, Texas, home of a
water tower tilting off kilter at an angle greater than that of the
Leaning Tower of Pisa, and the home of the Largest Cross in the
Western Hemisphere (aluminum and about 40 feet tall);
• In the motel dining room in Oklahoma City, half the men
customers were wearing baseball hats. “Why are they wearing them?”
my wife asked. Lacking an answer, I invented one, to wit: “They are
worried there will be a severe and sudden thundershower which will
cause the dining room ceiling to leak and they want to be
protected.”
• The next night, in Albuquerque, we encountered the same
phenomenon at dinner, with no better explanation than mine of the
evening before.
• The young breakfast waitress in Albuquerque, upon being
thanked for her service, said, “You’re welcome” instead of “No
problem.” This a first for her generation.
• At the Continental Divide in New Mexico there is a
trading post, bright and well-stocked. They have a very good
selection of genuine Indian rugs at moderate prices. The rugs bear
tags reading “Made in Mexico.”
One thing remains unchanged from our cross-country trip of long
ago: the national dividing line between hash brown potatoes and
grits at breakfast is the Oklahoma-Texas border.
