DAY ONE
By: Brian J.
Just over 600 miles separate me from Seattle after my first day of travel. I’m sitting in a Best (more like OK) Western in Butte, Montana, feeling every one of those miles. The last few days have been exhausting, culminated in the skydive release of Ben’s ashes on Saturday. Add to this a day-trip to Vancouver to see my uncle from China, and a day packing the moving truck I’m rattling down the highway, and the recipe for weary is complete.
That is not to say that the trip today, or the events of the weekend were without special significance. Perhaps this doesn’t even need to be said, but the measure of my meager energy level is inversely proportionate to the extreme significance of this trip. In fact, in the truck with me are Ben’s remains, the ashes that constitute what is left of his physical presence here on this earth. They’re in a box in the back, I didn’t really want them up front with me. I don’t know why. Rather, I’ve got one of the folded flags presented by the U.S. Navy in the front seat with me, and I turn to it every once in a while and think of Ben.
Ben and I actually made this exact trip together about 7 years ago, same route and everything, though we didn’t stop at all, just trading the driving duties back and forth periodically as we felt it necessary. For this reason, the trip is even more…meaningful.
As for the drive, it’s really rather easy to spend that much time behind the wheel. The truck doesn’t have CD or cassette, so the books-on-tape I checked out at the library are useless, and much of the time, there isn’t even a consistent radio station. I spend a good part of my drive either praying out loud, talking out loud to myself, singing, or simply sitting in silence with my thoughts. The hours roll by in this manner and I don’t mind the silence.
Thankfully as well, the drive through western Washington is breathtaking. Idaho and Montana are equally beautiful and majestic, and I find myself regularly exclaiming internally, “thank you, God!” Add that to the fact that the speed limit in both of these states is 75mph, and the drive becomes altogether pleasant.
STOP OF THE DAY:
Honorable mention for stop of the day today goes to the little turnoff that consisted of about a dozen run-down houses and one bar/casino that had a prominently placed sign, “restroom is for customers only.” Well, let me tell you, I had to pee in that, “I’m about to panic” sort of way, that kind of physiological symbiosis between my bladder and brain was scary. I went in anyway, figuring I’d talk my way to the bathroom. No one stopped me, however, and I think I could have made it out without much notice—even though the place was empty except for me and two ladies. I decided before I left that the use of the bathroom was worth a bar-tip, so I handed the woman a $1 on my way out.
My favorite stop of the day today was discovered totally by accident. Gas was getting kind of low, but not desperately so, and although I could have made it to the next town, this little establishment caught my eye from the road. Turns out, I stopped at the bar/casino/giftshop for the Rock Creek Lodge Testicle Festival, a world-famous annual get-together celebrating the blatant machismo and sexuality surrounding the consumption of bull testicles. The official catch-phrase of the event is, “have a ball at the testicle festival,” and I can only imagine from the list of sponsors and magazines who have covered the event (hustler, erotica, high times to name a few) that the wording is more multi-entendre than double-entendre. Needless to say, I picked up a bumper sticker and a mug.
Now XM is going to offer an on board traffic service that gives real time updates on congestion, wrecks, fastest possible routes, and even speed of traffic. 
