The End of the Line

Comments -- Off the Blog


Summit Software, Inc. was my employer from 1982 until 2008. It was a great 26 year run, and during that time, I must have made 120 or more business trips to the offices of clients in various cities throughout America. I never found the travel to be tiresome.  At some point, I realized that I had spent a week or more with clients in all but just a few states.  During the last ten years with Summit, the list of unvisited states slowly shrunk. When a prospect from one of the remaining states would call, I would put on the "sell" a little harder.  Often, it worked and another was crossed off the list.  However, two states, Alaska and North Dakota, remained on the list for several years prior to the sale of the company.  We received very few calls from prospects located in these two states during those last few years, and when we did, they were either turned off by the hard sell, or they sensed some desperation on my part.  In either case, they decided to take a pass.  The company was sold in 2008, but my dream of visiting all fifty states did not wane, and I started planning this trip over two years ago in an effort to meet that personal goal.  About 6:00 pm on Day 33 of the trip, I reached North Dakota and the final state was checked off the list.

If I've learned anything about the states, it's that they're like the people that populate them--vastly  different.  Some are spectacular and stunning in their beauty, while others are simple, frumpy or even haggard.  Some, quite intelligent and others challenged that way.  Many are quite moody, and have personalities that change dramatically with the seasons.  To that regard, I regret not having yet had the opportunity to experience the harsher sides of Alaska's and North Dakota's personalities, which I'm sure will both begin to reveal themselves within the next few months.  (No, that's not a plant for a Northern Exposure sequel.)  I must admit that I favor some states over others.  Iowa will always be my home state.  It's where my roots are; where I attended high school and college; where I was married and where all three of my children were born.  I have loved skiing in Colorado, and Summit County, CO was the inspiration for the name of my company.  Idaho is a state to which I could easily relocate, as is New Hampshire, and several others.  We have many good friends in Arkansas.  And for the time being, I'm comfortable where I'm at in eastern Tennessee.  Of course, these are personal preferences, and I do appreciate each of the states for the valuable contributions it makes to our nation.  I'm very happy to be able to say that I have now met all fifty of them.

Okay, back to the blog to document how it happened.

Days 31 and 32 -- Back to Bozeman

Crossing Montana, I just managed to stay ahead of spotty rainstorms.

And I located an interesting place to hide, if you're a bear

Day 33 -- Mission Accomplished

I left Bozeman, MT bright and early today and headed for Bismarck, ND. The "Big Sky" label that is hung on Montana is not a misnomer by any stretch.  How would you like to have the breathing room that folks in this town have?

Just a few miles from the North Dakota border I spotted a long train of fully loaded coal cars heading East.  It feels like you're viewing a painting seeing them from such a long range view. You can easily see an entire 140-car train.  I was travelling at nearly 70 mph, so it didn't take too long for me to catch up with it.

I did so, just as an train of empty coal cars met us, heading west back to Montana.

Several minutes later I pulled over at the sign welcoming visitors to North Dakota.  This was the picture I had been waiting to snap for so many years. 

I wished that I had thought to bring along a New Year's Eve noise maker just for this celebration.  But I hadn't and I seriously thought for a second or two about grabbing a couple of pans from the motorhome to clang together.  As I made an about face from the welcome sign, there was the coal train that I had passed.  It was only 300 yards away, and its bright light was staring me down. I snapped this picture of it as it approached.

and immediately thereafter, the BNSF engineer responded with a long pull on his train horn.  I tipped my hat to him and gave him a firm salute, and he responded again, this time with four quick pulls.  Scout's honor--I'm mot making this up.  I wished for a noise maker to help mark this moment, and, by golly, I got one!

About an hour into North Dakota, you see badlands type topography

and the painted canyon

I also began to see fields of corn again. It had been nearly a month since I had seen any, and it made me feel close to home. Crossing back into the Central Time Zone, I lost another hour, and it was quite dark as I settled in at Bismark for the night.

Favorite road sign of the day

Imagine the football rivalry between Camel Hump and Sentinel Butte.  I can just hear the chant.  "Go Camel Hump. Kick Sentinal...",  well you can finish it.

Day 34 -- Dance with the one what brung ya.

There's an Oak Ridge Boys song in which the lyrics proclaim, "When the sun always shines, there's a desert below.  It takes a little rain to make love grow."  It helps put into perspective a long, all-day soaker, like the one we're having here in North Dakota today.  It was pouring down pretty good here in Bismark as I headed out for Fargo, which is forecast to receive over three inches of rain today.  Ironic that this is the last official day of the trip and it's the first and only one on the entire trip that I would call rainy.  I'm wondering if I should turn south and avoid Fargo altogether.  But I loved the movie, and I'd like to see that stretch of road where Margie looked at the frozen air and said to the suspect she had just apprehended by the wood chipper, "And look... it's a beautiful day out there today."  So, I reckon I'll press on to Fargo, don't ya know?

There must be an inordinate number of skunks in the state of North Dakota, judging from the numbers I've encountered as road kill. Either that, or I'm just used to driving in Arkansas and Tennessee, where the road kill is "cleaned up" quicker than it is up here.  And, not to be outdone by her southern sister, North Dakota also has a plethora of "see this and that" type billboards. "See the world's largest buffalo. Next exit."  "See the Albino Bison. Jamestown Buffalo Museum".

Was it raining when I got to Fargo? "Well, ya, sure, you betcha it was. And raining hard, don't ya know?"  But I did get to see a little of the town and I liked it.

Sioux Falls, SD was today's destination, and the border between North and South Dakota was just a few more miles down the road.  I knew that upon reaching the South Dakota border, my visit to the last remaining state, North Dakota, would be over. Hence, I was about to cross the official "end of the line" for my Northern Exposure.  I knew that Lucille knew this, too, and I was feeling very uneasy. Some things needed to be said and I was running out of time.  I pulled off the freeway into a quiet rest area, shut off the engine, and set there for a minute before I began to say what was on my mind.

"Lucille, I'm sorry about your ill conceived name.  If I could take it back, I would.  But, I've gotten used to it.  Lived through the hard times... picked a fine time to leave me... Well, none of that happened.  You carried me over 10,000 miles without a hitch. Well, yes, of course we have a hitch. We both know that. But, you know what I mean."  I was fumbling a bit.

"I know that before we left, you saw me reading a brochure about an Itasca Navion with a fancy slide-out and the Mercedes Benz diesel engine and a bigger bathroom.  But that was before this trip, Lucille."

"Heck", I continued, "for the last six weeks, whenever I needed hot water, you had more than enough for me.  And when I wanted power for the lights, or to watch a DVD or make a latte, it was always there.  Even on mornings like that one that was below freezing, you always kept it nice and cozy inside.  You took every punch that Big Al threw at you without even getting a nick on your glasses.  And, boy did you keep your cool going down those steep descents on the road to Whistler.  You never complained once about dragging Harley and the trailer all this way. What I'm trying to say, Lucille, is that I 'preciate ya for everything you've done for me on this trip, and I'm proud of ya."

I paused for a few seconds and thought about it.  Deep down I knew it wasn't enough and that she deserved more.  I knew she wanted to hear those three words that girls need to hear ocassionally.  So, I looked her straight in her instrument gauges and said, "What I'm trying to say is... Well," and then I muttered "Thank You, Lucille."  We both knew that those weren't the three words she was looking for and the three that I was trying to utter.  But sometimes it's really hard for guys to put their emotions on the line and get them out.  After too long of a silence, I broke into a down home sort of dialect (which I have found works best when you're talking to your vehicles) and said, "Well, doggone it, Lucille, you're my gal. I didn't mind ya nagging at me about the seat belt.  And maybe we can get you help for that heavy petroleum dependency.  You're the one what brung me, Lucille, and I'm not gonna trade ya off for any new fangled Itasca Navion..."

"And dad blurn it, Lucille... I love ya."

And, with that, I reached down and turned the key to on. Lucille roared to life. SHE NEVER SOUNDED SO GOOD. Her engined revved like I had just given her a shot of 90 octane. We raced back out onto the freeway and headed for Iowa.  I promised to buy her a warm bubble bath when we got back to Tennessee in a few more days.  We were both as happy as kids on a Sunday morning, just after church let out.

I was hoping for a nice symbolic sunset picture as we crossed over the official end of the line.   Sort of like this one from the previous day.

but it was too rainy and foggy.


As I drove for the next few miles, I remembered that there were two more thank you's that I needed to share.  The first is to my wife, Cindy, for a lifetime of putting up with, and not squawking too much about, such wild hair notions as buying a motorhome, a motorcycle and a motorcycle trailer and heading out by myself to Alaska for six weeks. "Thank You, Cindy."  And thanks, also, for joining up with me on this trip. I know that touring Alaska in a motorhome, even if it was just for a week, wasn't your idea of a dream vacation. Okay... Ugh... "I Love You, too".

And a final "Thank You" is extended to all of you who have shared this journey by reading my Northern Exposure journal.  Trying to decide what might be of interest... hoping that pictures taken would do justice to what I was viewing... wishing that others might get a laugh or two at things that tickled me... wondering how best to put experiences to words... All of these things helped turn what could have been a long, often lonely trip into an unforgettable adventure--one where the miles and days sailed by way too fast. "Thank you", everyone reading this, for accepting the invitation and riding along.

Well, I guess what's needed to be said has been said... and it's time for us to sign off.

Northern Exposure and Lucille

 

 

-- The End --