White lines. Yellow lines. No lines. I follow the
roads west. West! Down highways, byways, and thoroughfares. West! Down frontage
roads, forgotten routes, and small town Main Streets. West! The most optimistic
of all directions. West! Because that’s where the sun sets. Where stars are
born. Where rebels, jokers, wildcards, and misfits search for a bigger,
brighter, and bolder tomorrow. West! Into the glare. Against the wind. Towards
the unknown. West! Because, where else is there to go?
I’m
searching for something. Something that I can’t quite put my finger on. Maybe
peace? Maybe quiet? Maybe peace and quiet. And I take to the roads to find it. Always
skirting the cities when I can. I stay away from those racket factories, with
their squeals and screeches and crashers and clamor. Those noise machines, with
their rattles and rumbles and clinkers and clanks. Those quiet killers, who are
persistently polluting the air with their blasts and bangs and bursts and blows…
And
so, I stick to the country roads, rural and empty, oftentimes forgotten, the lonelier
the better. I ride through a land they call Montana, where the sky is big, and
the mountains tear out of the earth, sharp and jagged, like sharks’ teeth. I
can see them in the distance, a day away, the sun sinking behind their crooked
peaks. But for now, the land is flat, as flat as land can be. And I pedal hard,
with rock n roll rhythms streaming through the small speakers tucked in close
to the drums of my ears. When I’m lucky, classic road tunes dance across the
air waves. “Born to Run,” “Bat out of Hell,” “Radar Love.” But as I travel
further from civilization, the stations fade, and so I scan and sometimes find
a country station with just the right twang and the perfect Western lyrics that
epitomize rubber “on the road again. I just can’t wait to get on the road again…”
But out here, way out
here, in the desolate flatlands, badlands, of nowhere America, even the country
stations come to an end, leaving me only with local talk, a man selling a refrigerator
over the airwaves, a woman hoping to trade a washing machine for a dishwasher. A
dry voice tells me that the prices of soy are down, but the prices of beef are
up, which makes my mind wander to a simpler place where one farmer is cursing
and kicking dust while another is smiling from ear to ear as he drives a bolt
into the head of an unsuspecting steer…
And speaking of steer,
they line the roads, dozens upon dozens, and perfect timing, because my radio
loses all signals, and I find entertainment in screaming at the top of my
lungs. STAMPEDE!!! And the cows take notice. They obey my orders. They run at
my side. The only thing between me and them, three strands of wire, barbed, nine-gauged
and streaming with electricity. A hundred or more hooves hitting the ground in
unison, causing the Earth to tremble, creating a minor earthquake that only I
can feel. Rumble! Rattle! Shake! Sometimes we need to make our own rock n roll…
But the field comes to an
end and thus does my fun. No more cows to keep me company, no more stampedes to
satisfy my soul. So I ride and I listen, to the c-c-c-c-c-c-clanking of the chain, until my
back wheel begins to drag and hiss-s-s-s-s-s-s-s. “Fuck!” A flat. I pull off to
the side of the road only to realize there is no sound. Nothing. Not a peep. I
have finally found my peace and quiet, which suddenly scares the hell out of
me. Because there can’t be nothing. There’s always something. Listen! It’s the
wind gently blowing, rustling the rye in the fields. But then the wind dies
down and again, nothing. And the fear returns. But then I remember to breathe,
which I can barely hear, but it’s there, until I decide to hold my breath…
Is this what peace and
quiet sounds like? But it’s not entirely quiet. It’s not. I can hear something in
my chest. Bum-bum. Bum-bum. Bum-bum. And in this instance I realize that there
is no such thing as pure silence. There is no such thing as quiet. Half of what
I thought I was looking for doesn’t even exist. But the other half! The other
half is more than real. The other half has infiltrated every bone in my body. Every
molecule in my mind. Never have I found more peace in a single moment.
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