MOTIONAL BLUR (THE BACKSTORY): 1: OFF & ROLLING
Travels with Andrew
This is a new feature (starting today) that will appear on Sunday over the next bunch of weeks.
I might have run it under my travelog banner Reflection, Rumination & Rhetoric from the Road. But I prefer Travels with Andrew.
It tells the story of a genuine road trip I undertook ten years ago as the basis for my first road novel, Motional Blur, published by Skyhorse (NYC) in 2016.
The nonfiction story begins with a special exhibition about Route 66, known as “America’s Main Street,” at The Autry Museum at Griffith Park in LA.
Inspired, I plan a trip that will that will set the framework for my fictional plot, rolling 66 all the way to Missouri, where I’d break east to Indiana, Ohio—and beyond.
But the day before departure, it occurs to me a cross-country trek is somewhat of a cliché. Thus, I alter my compass for a new path that might better complement my story, about which I’d been scribbling notes for several months: North, not east; a route that will take me up to Big Sky Country.
Add Andrew to the mix, brought along to assist with the driving, but whose personality became instrumental as I built a character around him that would become the novel’s first-person protagonist.
And so a couple days after summer solstice, Andrew and I roll out of Montecito on an old-fashioned summer road trip.
Beyond Victorville, greenery gives way to desert cacti and endless rows of telephone poles before Nevada welcomes us with one of its tacky casino complexes.
Andrew, at this stage, is hunched over the wheel, a red bandana tied around his forehead and new Oakley wraparound shades I’d gifted him a couple weeks earlier for his birthday.
“Look!” Andrew hollers, excitedly pointing at a billboard we’re passing. “Asian Buffet! Free sushi, all you can eat if you play the slots!”
To support his paunch, Andrew eats like he doesn’t know where his next meal is coming from.
“We won’t be doing that,” I say.
“But… but…”
Further on, another billboard: Prime Rib Dinner, $6.95.
“Look!” Andrew is now salivating. “That works, doesn’t it?”
“No.”
And soon Las Vegas looms up and I caution Andrew about getting sucked into its vortex.
“Look,” says Andrew. “We’re supposed to get off there!”
“It’s just The Mirage. Keep driving.”
North of Vegas is virgin territory for me. Never been to Utah or Wyoming or Montana, can hardly wait to see the big sky.
I slip Nilsson into the CD player.
Andrew interrupts my whistling along to Dayton, Ohio 1903. “You know what the rule of the road for whistling is, don’t you?”
“No.”
“If you’re not adding to the soundscape, it must go.” He pauses. “Same with singing.”
“You obviously don’t know my rule of the road, do you?”
“No, what is it?”
“The vehicle’s owner may whistle any fucking time he wants.”
MOTIONALLY BLURRED
Thanks for reading ERINGER! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.