The Columnist Manifesto

Leaving the high-water midwest for a road trip...

I love departing on a journey in the evening. I'm not exactly sure why. Maybe it's the leisurely, rather than rushed, lead-up to the departure in contrast to crack-of-dawn start-outs. Maybe it's the connection to sailing ships, which would often set sail on the evening tide.



We packed the car and then hung out at Grandma Moses coffeehouse for an hour or so, waiting for traffic to die down. Then we headed east, with the sun at our backs. This is a road trip, so we didn't put a great distance behind us before turning in for the night. But sleeping in a strange bed and contemplating the miles before us was enough to make it feel like we'd gotten far away.

Maybe "tide" isn't the best metaphor, since by traveling east, we're leaving the Flooded Flyover States behind. Our area isn't flooded but the water is higher than usual. Those rocks below usually stick above the water by about 3 feet. And that short connecting section of the dock usually slopes sharply down.