Forty Years Across America

Too soon.               After waking to this in Deadwood, North Dakota, I made an executive decision. I wasn’t going north.                It’s not like Bruce and I did much in North Dakota in 1978 anyway, except stumble upon a high stakes poker game while looking for a campsite:               We left for North Dakota in pitch dark on a totally isolated, unerringly straight 2-lane highway. In 100 miles, on the way to Bowman, ND, we passed two towns; one consisted of nothing but a Conoco station.               We made Bowman at 10:30 PM and followed the signs to a (closed) campground. We went back to town and ask directions in a bar to another campground. They directed us, but we got a little confused and followed a dirt road a couple miles to a lighted building. Thinking it may have been the campground, we pulled in, but there was nothing inside but 6 or 7 men around a table involved in a furious game of poker. There was easily a couple hundred bucks on the table.    

Joe Allen, former Lookout Inn bartender.      In 1978, I wrote:      We pulled into Hot Springs, a jumping town of 4000, and found a campground in the city - $3.00 a piece, our first payment for lodging. We showered and "hit the town" - first, the Pizza Pub. Pinball machines and no one there. We asked the waitri where to go for real fun. They directed us to the "Lookout Inn" atop a hill a few miles away, where there was a country band.      We got there, pulled into an empty parking lot, heard the music, and went inside. There were two people at the bar and none in the main room. The band finished a song and the singer said, "We'll be right back after a short break - hope y'all catch our 9:00 show." There was a pool table so we got beverages and played with a couple of the band members. They were all from Boise playing their first gig at the Lookout, and enjoying themselves immensely. So Bruce and I applauded enthusiastically whenever they

       Sioux Falls, 1978: Stopped at the Taco Villa lounge, had a few beers, deep fried pepper rings, and played a remote-control skeet shooting game. The waitress was very friendly - in fact, she sat at our table and lit a cigarette. Her name was Jenna and we swapped stories. She was raised on a farm with 12 brothers and sisters, but despite our warm invitation and offer to rearrange the back seat of the Giant Artichoke, she didn't want to come with us to California, because she had to work.         2018: Drove to Sioux Falls with the harvest moon rising behind me, but the Taco Villa was no more. The bowling alley lounge was hopping, though. As soon as I walked in and sat at the bar to update my blog, and maybe have a Manhattan, a woman looked at me and said, "You look familiar." Could've been Jenna, but this time I didn't press it.        Finally arrived at the campsite at 1 AM. This was not much more than a square block in Montrose, SD with a few campe

      Here I was on the terrace at the University of Wisconsin's Student Union, overlooking Lake Mendota, savoring a brat and a beer, and watching the boats. How can anyone get any studying done here?       Two young men sat at the picnic table next to me. One laid on the table with a pitcher of beer and removed his shirt, and the other took his photo. It's not every day you see a Ryan Gosling doppleganger - especially in such a provocative pose - so I asked if I could take his photo as well. Turns out I'd taken his photo before.       They told me they were in Madison visiting from the University of Iowa. I mentioned I'd been there a couple years ago, for a football game the University of Michigan lost on the last play of the game to the Hawkeyes. The joyful Kinnick Stadium fans rushed the field, and I snapped a photo. "I was there!" said Ryan Gosling. "Well then this is the second photo I've taken of you," I replied.       I also have my

       Evanston, 1978: Somehow we learned about a fraternity party. As we tried to find it, we found ourselves in sorority row, so we walked up to a door and knocked.         A young woman answered and before we could say a thing, she hissed, "Get off the porch! Get off the porch!" We backed away in confusion, not fast enough for the sisters, who kept shouting after us, "Get off the porch! This is the final day of rush week!"         To this day, Bruce insists the whole "rush week" claim was a bunch of hooey - it was actually their way of saying they had no interest in us whatsoever.           In any event, we found the party. The Four M Band - the "Most Magnificent Music Makers" - weren't Otis Day and the Knights, but they had hundreds of enthusiastic Northwestern students dancing to "Shout" and no doubt something from Saturday Night Fever.           Now the next part of my 1978 party description is not "2018

Yeah, that's an empty Bud container at the base.           I can't tell you how excited I was to pull into Kirkland, 40 years to the day after my last visit. All I had to go on was a photo and a snippet of dialogue. Let's review:        From September 23, 1978: I approached and asked the name of the town. One man said – “This little quagmire? You call it a town?” Another gave in: “This is Kirklin – population 712, or 714.” A third: “Yeah, if you count the dogs and cats.”        We told them we were headed for California, “The long way.” One replied, “You can’t get there from here.”         I parked my Challenger behind a white Corvette convertible, i n front of antique store (one of at least eight! Last time I was there, that shit was new). A few guys were talking and appeared seasoned enough to possibly identify their fellow Kirklin-ites, and I walked up showing the photo on my tablet. We zoomed in on each face but without much luck, though the gu

Saturday, September 22, 2018      What if I could find another '73 Catalina? Curious, I looked online, and found one. It was even the same shade of artichoke green. Only 82,000 miles (so they said) and mine for a mere $12,000. Why, they would even ship it from North Carolina.      Nah, my Dodge Challenger would have to do. Not such a bad option, and accommodating of my overpacking. How did we do this in 1978, with two people? Because back then I had only three t-shirts, a pair of cutoffs, and a sleeping bag. Now I have twenty t-shirts, five slacks, four pair of shoes, and even a suit (you never know!). Not to mention a cooler filled with Gatorade, water, and emergency beer.      Finally pulling out of the driveway, I actually felt chills. I want this! On the way down I-75 to Cincinnati, listening to music, I even felt a little high. (Though it could have been the Nature's Path "Hemp Hearts" granola I had for breakfast.)      Bruce, my 1978 traveling compan

           In 1978, I graduated from the University of Michigan with no job, no plans, and a 1973 Pontiac Catalina my father got me for graduation. With a 400 2-barrel V8 engine, it managed 13 miles to the gallon. It was artichoke-green, with a black vinyl roof, whitewall tires, and (later) a Presidential Seal I let my brother-in-law attach to the hood.             I immediately drove it to Cincinnati with my friend Mike. He had a six-pack of Heineken and I a jug of homemade Pina Coladas (hey, it was the 70’s). I revved my new car over 100 MPH on I-75, repeatedly. It was sweet, and the freshly installed cassette player was bonus.             In Cincy, we visited my best friend Bruce, and hatched a plan to take my car across America. Mike had a real job lined up, but Bruce was game. After working a few months of double shifts at Ann Arbor’s Campus Inn, in the restaurant “Victors” (no apostrophe, as in “Hail to the –”), I returned to Cincinnati on September 23, 1978, w