Crossed the central valley, up the frozen ramp of Donner’s Pass: a slippery lock that opens with determination and careful braking into the embarrassment of Reno and the finality of the Nevada desert. A fullish moon over silver sand, the fussy perfection of Utah and the long arc of Medicine Bow. The wide and shallow and sometimes terrible Platte. Omaha (somewhere in Middle America) and Des Moines. Railroad tracks, rubble, slush and then the giant erector set of Gary, Indiana. A quick jog North and it’s pure Michigan.
Three hours stolen by our tiny solar system, four days stolen by salted asphalt. Jhasen left his home to help me leave mine and we drove until I was home again. So long, California, your people will be missed … but the snow is falling, the air is still and the sun still sets in the West.