Tails From the Road

I already hear you. Hey dummy, you call yourself an author? Well you misspelled your title! Sadly, there is about a 50/50 chance I would actually do this on accident. This time however, it’s intentional. So don’t worry, all will be explained eventually.

I’ve driven a great deal in my life. Many long journeys, including crossing the United States at least four times. I thoroughly enjoy driving, more so when I was younger, but I still do enjoy it. I like seeing new places. Driving until you find someplace or something you’ve never seen before.

This love of driving has, at times, brought me to some truly unexpected places. Therefore this story isn’t exactly a single story, but a few smaller incidents that have one thing in common. Driving.

Growing up in Idaho, one of the moments I cherished the most was when I got my drivers license. Considering that you have to drive miles upon miles to reach basically anything in Idaho, having a license greatly expands your world. I provided rides to friends, took fishing trips to distant lakes and rivers, drove into the mountains just because I could. Any given trip could be an adventure.

I also discovered that I had a pretty good sense of direction. Back then we didn’t have GPS, so your greatest tool for navigation was a map or atlas. But often I could find a destination, just by spotting it on the horizon and heading for it. Granted, some dirt roads really are just dirt roads that lead to random fields, but others could provide a shortcut to that strange building in the distance.

Some of my greatest hits while driving include;

— Driving through the mountains of Oregon in a blizzard, only going about 10 miles per hour on a twisting and bumpy highway while the woman I was traveling with screamed at me most of the time (that’s a whole other story that I don’t have time for here).

— Driving through a forest fire in the Idaho mountains just before they closed the highway.

__ Driving a U-Haul across country (in 98 I think) and stopping late at night in Wyoming to look at a comet, the light from which literally filled the entire sky.

— Navigating Atlanta traffic for several months while we lived in Georgia. (If you’ve been in it then you realize why this is so impressive)

But you’re not here for these mundane and everyday type driving stories. No you want the zinger, THE story that will make you go… “Oh! That’s why he spelled Tales wrong!”

Okay, mom… if you’re reading this, now would be a good time to stop. With that out of the way here we go.

My first trip driving cross country was a rather crazy endeavor. We were going to make the trip from Oregon to South Carolina in just over 2 days, stopping only once to sleep in Nebraska. The original plan was for the three adults in the car to share periods of driving so that the others could sleep. I took the first leg, which ended up being a roughly 21 hour marathon that took us from Oregon to Lincoln, Nebraska. We stayed at a Super 8 Motel that night and then got up early the next morning.

Nicely enough the other two drivers took most of the next leg, Lincoln to Atlanta. I finished off the trip by driving us into South Carolina. We weren’t exactly awash in cash, so we did everything on a budget. We spent a couple days at the beach (my first time seeing the Atlantic Ocean) and drove around seeing some family. Four short days later we were set to head back.

Now, we had taken this trip in March, mostly because it was when we could all get away. As we left South Carolina in the evening of our fourth day, we hoped to make it to St. Louise by the middle of the next day. All was going well for the first hour or two, then we encountered Michigan.

Well, not the actual state of Michigan, just what appeared to be two -fifths of its population. The interstate we were on was at a complete standstill, and the ONLY license plates that we could see were Michigan. Years later I would come to the conclusion that Michigan must have been playing a March Madness game in either Atlanta or somewhere in Florida. All of these people from Michigan must have been coming from somewhere.

We maybe traveled two or three exits in an hour and a half. Finally, frustrated, I grabbed my atlas, plotted a course, and left the interstate. We were somewhere in the mountains of Tennessee. Remember what I said about being good with directions? I drove for about 3 hours, basically blind, in the dark, with little help from either of my co-riders. I emerged onto my target interstate in Kentucky. And of course there were still Michigan plates everywhere.

Sometime around three in the morning, I had finally broken away from the population of Michigan and found myself cruising nicely towards Louisville. At this point it had been a grueling drive, as in physically exhausting. I was stressed, tired, and probably a bit more than cranky. But driving at a respectable clip had given me a shot of adrenaline and so I carried on.

I vividly remember approaching a speed limit sign reading 65MPH. I was wide awake. With a purposefulness that only a sentient road sign can possess, it rose up on two giant chicken legs and walked across the interstate. I blinked, my tired mind not really processing what I had just seen. I was still driving along doing 70 when an approaching billboard sprouted a huge, bushy, squirrel tail that twitched and spun in what I had to assume was a crazy wind. Another road sign, I think one that read YIELD, flew by on comically small wings.

Somehow, all of this had happened and I hadn’t quite freaked out yet. I of course had no idea that lack of sleep and stress could cause you to hallucinate. I was just happy to be driving along. Thankfully, we were suddenly in a tunnel, which for some reason triggered a panic response in my mind, because, you know, there aren’t tunnels in Kentucky. I started calling to the others in the car who had been asleep for some time at this point.

Lucky for us we were only about a mile from a rest area. I navigated us into the stop safely enough, the images of the animal tinged road signs and the tunnel burned forever into my mind. We were however alive, and after using the facilities, I retired to the back of the van and slept until we were close to St. Louise. We made another stop at the same Super 8 we had stayed at on the way out, and when we awoke, I took over and drove us all the way back home.

I can honestly say that I don’t have many, if any, other memories of hallucinations, but this night I’m guessing it was a miracle we didn’t end up rolled over in a ditch. I don’t recommend driving until your brain stops functioning properly. That being said, I do recommend going for a drive. Clear your mind, explore, and have some fun. Just leave the tails at home.