Well, I’m off, and it’s sad. It’s terrifying to think that I am leaving so much behind – my friends, an internship at WAMU, a job search – in order to be on the road for so long. I imagine that it will be incredibly lonely, but fulfilling. But it is what I feel led to do.
I am currently camping by the side of the road on the Mason-Dixon Line, heading towards Philadelphia. Across the street are the anxious cries of dairy cows, and I am constantly awakened by the toneless trumpeting of the semis as the trundle down the hill.
Today, I traveled along US 1, which seems fitting for a pilgrimage across the United States. My friend Ryan joined me for the first 25 miles, and we stopped in a small restaurant called the Port Royal. This is him:
It was gross! My burger was dry and the nachos were worse than stadium food. I have never understood why in small towns, where restaurants are so close to farms, they often have the most processed, least tasty food. That says a lot about how terrible our food distribution system is when food has to travel thousands of miles just to be frozen and wrapped in plastic.
The crabs were actually OK and were fresh. Ryan chickened out on eating them, however. I ate three, he nibbled on one:
Later, I passed over the Susquehanna river, which was less than appealing:
All in all, I thought it was a good day, however. The weather was beautiful, and I got a lot of mileage in. Plus, as soon as I left Baltimore, all that surrounded me was green hills and lots of sky.
I kept getting reminders that I had made the right decision by coming on this journey. I saw a man with unhappy hair clutching a case of Budweiser and an ice cream cone, with a shirt that said “God keeps His promises.” Then, I saw a truck that had “Just me and Jesus, truckin’ along together” written on the back. Finally, i saw this sign:
I knew this trip would work out fine.
