I like to hop in my car and drive somewhere far away. I like to be a passenger in someone else's car and drive somewhere far away. Mostly, I like to get in my car with my dog and drive somewhere far away. And then back home of course. It's where the wife, cats, garden, and all my stuff is. I like it there.
I drive from Seattle to Missoula a lot. It's become a reflex. I know where all the speed traps are. I know where all the Starbucks are. I know which gas stations are the least expensive. I know where the good food is. I know where the road work is probably going to be a nightmare. I know where the local drivers are most likely to be right wing shitheads who hate me for my fuel efficient, stupid looking, hybrid vehicle.
Basically, to get to Missoula, or more accurately, Corvallis, Montana from our home in Burien, it goes like this. Turn left onto 8th Ave S heading toward 128th Ave. Turn right onto 128th and get into the left lane quickly to get onto 509 South. Take the 148th St. exit and get in the middle lane. Turn left onto 518 toward the airport. Stay in the lane you're in because it will turn into 405 once you cross under I5. Stay on 405 for about 10 miles. Be ready to slow down through the Renton curves because once you get onto I405... everyone turns into a fucking idiot. I'm usually listening to NPR at this point to get my brain working while the drive is young. Chances are, I didn't take this very direct route to 405. More than likely, I stopped at the Fred Meyer in Burien to gas up, fill out my mileage log, and then hit the Starbucks at Five Corners to get a Venti Cold Brew and a bacon gouda breakfast sandwich. Then stop at the convenience store to get some water, snacks, smokes, and occasionally, a Lightning cable because I forgot mine at home and keeping the phone charged is imperative for this drive.
Between Cle Elum and Missoula there is very little on the radio except for crappy New Country, right wing talk, and Jesus babble. Sometimes I'll listen to the American Taliban for a little while, get angry, and need to listen to Reign In Blood to cleanse my palette and purge the bile rising in my throat after listening to the angry paranoid rambling of apocalyptic Jesus freaks, Anyway... 405 through the Renton curves is always an exercise in stupidity. Some asshole in a Mercedes, or Porsche Cayenne, or other inferiority complex vehicle will zip across the lanes trying desperately to get ahead of the lesser people he is surrounded by. It's always some white guy. Some white guy in a hurry to be somewhere faster than the rest of us. On this stretch of 405, all this behavior does is slow everyone else down, increase the chances of a collision, and you get nowhere fast. Invariably, I end up passing this impatient fucker somewhere before the I90 exit in Bellevue. Sometimes they'll see me slowly pass by in the right hand lane and flip me off because of course I was trying to somehow impeded their progress out of some sort of malicious intent. That's how important these people are! Ok. I90. Finally! One stupid, two lane merge to get out of the lane that will take me into the strip mall hell that is Factoria, and it's a straight shot through the Cascades to Ellensburg. Issaquah, Snoqualmie, North Bend, Cle Elum, and a whole host of tiny little towns dot the freeway. I skip them all as my drive today is 528 long and one time zone ahead and I would like to get there in time to hang out with the family a bit before I succumb to the exhaustion of the drive.
I90 through the Cascades is a beautiful drive on a sunny day, even on a rainy day. The mountains, the trees, the lakes, the rivers. The charming little towns with populations in the hundreds.
I switch to music or comedy somewhere around Snoqualmie Summit where the NPR reception starts getting shitty and the radio stations begin the sociopolitical slide to the apocalyptic fringe right that is seemingly very popular with rural Washington residents. I put some French lessons on the iPhone or some Mastodon or some Rush. Maybe some Patton Oswalt, Eugene Mirman, or Sarah Silverman depending on my mood this morning.
I love this transition in the drive. You're well into the gorgeous portion of the mountains at this point so it's not that. What I love about the drive at this point is the gas mileage. After Snoqualmie pass, the mileage in my stupid looking hybrid vehicle goes way up! Between Snoqualmie Pass and Ellensburg, a roughly 60 mile drive, I'll probably use maybe a gallon of gas. Anyway...
The pass is behind us. Easton pops up. I get a little nostalgic blowing past this tiny roadside town. I shot a Kickistarter video with my dear late friend Gene here. Ok. Keep moving. There are still 440 or so miles between us and the destination. Stampede Pass. Lake Kachess. Salmon Le Sac road that leads to the campsite on Lake Cle Elum where Kasia and I threw our epic wedding party. Cle Elum. The need to pee is starting to hit me. Do I power through to Ellensburg or will my bladder fail before then? Does the dog need to pee? I can power through. It's only 25 miles to Ellensburg and caffeine and toilets. The dog looks uncomfortable. I stop at the Cle Elum rest stop. Try to convince the dog to expel liquid and/or solid waste from his system. Put him back in the car. Pour him some water. Go rid myself of my own liquid waste. Wash my hands. Splash some water on my face. Stretch the legs.
Hope in the car. Switch albums. Marvel at the wind turbines as you start your gradual decline out of the Cascades. Yellow. Everything is becoming more and more yellow. I can't help but chuckle as this reminds me of the first few pages of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Exit 101. Thorp farm shop. I always mean to stop in here and get some tasty snacks. Maybe on the way back.
Exit 109. Ellensburg. I pull off the highway. Make a right at the first stop. Drive under I90 and pull into the Starbucks. Gather up some of the trash this trip has already generated. Subtly dump it into the garbage inside the coffee shop. Nothing to see here. Order my next Venti Cold Brew. Carefully at 2-3 drops of half and half because I like to cut the edge with juuuuuuuuuuuust a leeeeeetle bit of dairy, but not so much that it takes more like milk than coffee. Crap. It blorps into the cup faster than expected. Ok. I have super cold, slightly coffee flavored milk now. At least it has the required amount of caffeine. Not hungry so no snacks at this stop. Get back into the car. I'm feeling like some Derek Sheen or Brian Posehn for the next bit of the drive. Some funny ha ha is just what the doctor ordered. Start up the car. Take a sip of coffee. Ooooo! Not too bad. The milk has dispersed and diluted, so it's just right now. More coffee than milk. Whew! Get back on to I90 East. Next stop. Coeur d'Alene, Idaho. I could stop in Spokane, but not. That's where dad died. Speed through Spokane! Plus the gas is cheaper in Idaho. Onward.
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