In 1977, I took my first cross-country trip with two girlfriends. I was 19 years old and, except for 10 days in London when I was 15, I’d never left the East Coast. Actually, I’d barely been out of New York City. Partway through the drive, I started writing a letter to my brother documenting the trip. I wrote 14 pages, all the way through the final leg of the drive, San Francisco to L.A. Nick saved the letter and returned it to me a few years ago. As literature, it’s unimpressive. But as a record of the awakening of a provincial city girl, it’s kinda special.
Here, a few excerpts from the road trip that made me a Flyover American.
- …
We just arrived in Nebraska. This is the state I’ve been dying to hit. I never thought I’d be in Nebraska, ever. To be here is the fulfillment of an anti-dream.
…
The Rockies just came into view. They’re really vague, just a purple haze, but you can already see an outline. They loom ahead. The Rockies. What am I doing here?
…
Next we drove to Utah. We went the scenic route, though. The scenery we saw was simply dreamland. We went up about 12000 feet, onto the tundra. It was all grass & little flowers & babbling brooks & serene mountain lakes. It was national park land, too, so there was no commercial anything, just heavy-duty nature. After a while we started to go down. We went through real farm land (a lot of cows) and it started to get drier and drier as we got nearer to the desert. The land was unbelievable. It was fertile, but not all over. There were cliffs & hills with red & grey & brown patterns and ranches and stuff.
…
…we stopped in a little town called Steamboat Springs for lunch. We had picked up a hitchhiker on her way there, so we ate in probably the only restaurant. It was a really pretty valley, and the people were incredible. They were all cowboys, hats, boots & all. All of them were old and they had super-personality faces.
…
Nevada is another statement in surrealism. Miles & miles of desert & nothingness, until you hit a city, which just springs up with neon flashing at you hysterically.
…
The next day we drove to L.A. That was a spectacular drive. We drove literally along the coast. I can’t even explain what it was like. I could feel the U.S stretching out, miles & miles of it, to my left. To look at where the land met the sea on the other side of the continent took my breath away. I could also see the coast stretching out before me, and I felt like we were driving along the edge of a map.
…
I now understand what patriotism is all about. I never understood the vastness & color of the country, and I’ve only seen a fraction of it. It’s so rich & beautiful & everything is different. New York is not America. I can’t wait for my next trip.
Well, see you soon.
Please don’t throw away this letter.
I’m so happy.
Sophie
“super-personality faces”
I love that. We may need to turn it into an ongoing FA theme.
I. Love. This.
“I could feel the U.S stretching out, miles & miles of it, to my left. To look at where the land met the sea on the other side of the continent took my breath away. I could also see the coast stretching out before me, and I felt like we were driving along the edge of a map.”
Thanks girls.
Pam, that is one of my most vivid memories of the trip. I have the world’s worst memory and I barely remember a lot of what I describe in the letter (though the letter has helped), but I will never, ever forget the feeling of driving down the West Coast for the first time.
memory is funny, isn’t it?
it’s funny, because i drove the coast highway three times on that trip: down from sausalito, up to s.f. to see the dictators/ramones at…winterland? the fillmore (was it still open?)? and back to l.a., and i don’t remember anything specific about it at all. only vaguely that it was spectacular.
it wasn’t until i lived out there for a little while about ten years ago that i remember driving that road. like it was the first time.
i love that the trip, escaping from new york, was life-changing for you.
Did we see the Ramones/Dictators in SF? I seem to remember the Whiskey A Go-Go, but maybe I went there with George another time. DO you remember our afternoon at the Tropicana?
I had a simalar experience in a cross-country drive to
Colorado at 16. Though I was not expressing myself
in words, the experience was lasting. I was truly amazed to see my first cows, along with all the amazing land. Beautiful as it was, I was incredibly homesick for NYC!
P.S. Even the sample of your teenage handwriting reveals your intelligence. I’m glad you still have that letter.
I wish I had the foresight to keep a journal or something.
It would make for interesting reading now.
Brings back memories.
Brilliant depiction of Nevada!
“New York is not America.” No shit. I wish every east coast urbanite could see the west and every western red neck could spend some time on the east coast. Maybe then they might begin to understand each other and discover they’re not all that much different.
[...] The Making of a Flyover American – Sophia Dembling, Flyover America [...]
[...] 20, 2009 by Jenna Schnuer Lonnie and Twyla MoneyAfter reading Sophie’s phrase “super-personality faces,” a slideshow of people I’ve met started running in my brain. Lonnie and Twyla Money, a [...]
I like the feeling of driving along the edge of a map. Congratulations on the NY Times link.
Beautiful, Sophie!
Thanks, Nicole! Nice to see you here.
[...] anticipation and realized that nothing makes me happier than hitting the road to look for America. That’s how my travel life started and I have come full circle back to it. I see my road ahead in the new decade winding ever more [...]
Ohhh, wait. I think you’re right. After the show, George and I had no place to stay. Some guy who worked at the club or at a hotel or something was going to help us out, but then we figured out he thought we were groupies and we left. I don’t remember where we stayed. And we didn’t drive down the coast with you, I don’t think. I think we drove down with a friend of George’s. We might have to drag her into this discussion.
I think the only time I got really homesick for NY was when we were in Denver–the night of the 1977 blackout in NYC. I felt way too far from the action.
Who knew? (I didn’t…) In some ways we’re not different, in some ways we are. But it’s all good.
Hey Frankie, this link’s for you! http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=113889332
I found this line in the comments section after an article in the New York Times about how long people have to commute for dates:
“These distances are something that I did not put up with when I lived in the States,… ”
Haha! Evidently, when you live in NYC, you leave the U.S. And I thought it was Texas that is a whole other country (according to their tourism marketing).