Chinese Broccoli

I mean no slight to the midwest (it's my home after all) when I say the most wonderful part of driving a really, really long distance is reaching water. The ocean, ideally. Sometimes when I get to the end of the land, I feel less like I've found my destination and more like the ocean found me. Getting the first breathtaking glimpse of mountains on the horizon—be they Green or Rocky or San Bernardino—is also unlike anything else I've ever felt. Even though I'm from far far inland, even though I'm from where it's flat, those endless waters, moody mountains and breezy palmettos stir something in me I grew up never knowing was even there.

Now all this natural beauty is majestic and lovely and moving and shit, but anyone who knows me also knows I'm a sucker for a Stuckey's and a lover of the truckstop gift boutique. It was with this in mind that I commemorated the last day of my trip—a rainy, truly crappy drive from Pittsburgh to Toronto—with a trip to the gift shop. West Virginia and Western Pennsylvania were strangely bereft of good truckstop souvenirs, but at the handsome Angola Service Plaza on the New York State Thruway, I managed to complete my final 50-state goal:

I bought all the magnets at once!

(The only thing cooler than doing this at all, and yes, it was expensive, was that the cashier thought I was 19.)

In travelling the great United States I learned many things about myself, other people, and all the places you can live. I also learned that in 2006, you can travel with someone with a Treo, which makes roadtripping completely different than it used to be. Simple disputes are easily settled with Google, hotel reservations made, restaurant directions found, the meaning of "apiary" confirmed—all from the middle of what looked like nowhere. At times I loved the technology and at times I hated it, but it's sure a different way of life than I remember when I first climbed into a car headed for New York City, MapQuest not even a twinkle in the internet's eye.

Another thing I learned is that while Roadfood is a very fine book, it makes an exceptionally poor road map. It turns out I-79 does not run north out of Charleston, West Virginia, and thus I never did get my apple dumpling. Possibly that would have been the saving grace of No.50 for me, but you never know. (Jane and Michael Stern, you will be getting a letter.)

And finally, I stick by what I've been saying for nearly ten years now: two of the best things you can ever do are take a long driving trip with someone, and take a long driving trip by yourself. I was lucky enough to do both this time, and it was great on either end. Thanks again to all the dear friends, boyfriends, and somewhere-in-betweens that have crossed state lines with me. And if you've never been anywhere with me, well...I guess you just don't know what a good time is.