Postcards From Roadside America

Driving across the country and back is the ultimate road trip. Or, at the very least, the longest. You better have some good music with you, and a couple gallons of water. After 6,000 miles of mostly interstate highways, you will soon know every rest stop and gas station in America. You might have a permanent squint etched into your face, and roar in your ears from the sound of your tires over asphalt. But there is something unique about being on the road. It is a different view of the country, a closer understanding of the landscape, an intimate knowledge of the way it changes from state to state.

It’s a glimpse into the subculture of truckers and rv’s and bikers, a culture I sometimes felt unique in: a single woman in a small, unwashed car, jammed full of items, books, scarves, art supplies; once, for a while, even a glittery hula hoop.

There is also something freeing about it – a state of none being, of existing here and nowhere, seeing it all, tied to none.

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A sunset in the middle of the cornfields of Illinois

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Sunset and windmill in Illinois

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Roadside diner; early morning in Nebraska

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Roadside diner; early morning

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Happy in New Hampshire

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As trucks roared by on the highway, I felt both the beauty and the loneliness of the moment. I was stopped for the night, watching the incredible beauty of the sky. Others kept driving on, roaring through the soft night air. We all were travelers, all were passing through.

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