Clarion

As in:

Scoring the all-but-new  Saturn Vue was, to Rick, at once a major coup and a good omen.

In the light of day–beginning the afternoon after his Seagrams and aquavit-influenced proposal for the cross-country road trip–he had begun to harbor doubts. To be sure, such a venture could not conceivably compare to the Oregon Trail travails of the mid-19th century. No one was going to die of thirst, hunger, or be scalped by unwelcoming locals along the way. But the prospect of five very different people sharing an automobile for a period of weeks was becoming more daunting the more he thought it through. This was not a group that always enjoyed each others’ company. Nor were they used to spending their days without being alternately exercised, pampered, fed, amused, and distracted by the social and personal dust-devils that people will spin up in the absence of genuine adversity.

On the other hand, he felt inspired listening to Ira Glass on the radio. When he thought about it, there were many, many more improbable but deliberate journeys captured in the annals of NPR’s “This American Life” than this screwy road trip he’d proposed. And there was just something about Ira Glass’s edgy and clarion voice that brought just the right dose of romance and whimsy to some of the seemingly absurd choices people make. Listening to Ira Glass podcasts brought Rick back to the question of “why not?”

The expedition’s “meet the car” party would be in Rick’s back yard, on Saturday March 13th. The theme was vintage Americana, so he grilled burgers and brats while Elsie made a large batch of potato salad, and Jake brought a gallon of baked beans, and Patrick handed ice cold root beers, and Amanda delivered her signature rounds of focaccia bread with the centers carved out and filled with spinach dip.

The gray Vue was parked on the grass between the house and the picnic table, with all its doors and rear hatch open for inspection. Along the driver’s side, Elsie had arranged for a painting of a hawks feathers, with white script below it, “Hope is the thing with the Feathers.” Indeed, if the driver’s side rear door somehow got torn off, the painted motto would still hold, “Hope is the thing.”

When they were done eating, Rick handed each of them a map of the United States and a colored marker.

“This isn’t binding but I thought it would be wise for each of us to take a crack at proposing how we should get across,” he said. “For now, the only rule is that we cannot use an interstate highway when another reasonable route is available.”

“How do you define ‘reasonable?’” Patrick asked, as the others laughed.

“By consensus of course,” Rick replied.

He then brought out a white cowboy hat and, holding it upside down, he dropped in five slips of paper.

“If you draw the slip with the “x” on it, you get to choose the day’s destination,” he said. “So have at it.”

“Yea!” Elsie soon yelled with delight. “It’s me! Uh-huh! It’s me!”

Before anyone could think to ask what her choice was, she promptly proclaimed it.

“Needles!” she said. “Needles, California!”

(Photo, Ira Glass, NPR)