Travels with a Grand Prix in Search of America, part 1

August, 2000

One of my favorite books is “Travels with Charley in Search of America” by John Steinbeck.  American writers have penned some fantastic books devoted to hitting the open road, but there is something about Steinbeck’s travels that struck a chord.  Most of the great road trip stories have an ulterior motive of hedonism – let’s see how much drugs I can ingest and how many chicks I can nail in as many states as possible.  But Steinbeck was at the point in his life where he just wanted to see what normal, everyday Americans were all about.  So he hopped in an RV with his poodle Charley riding shotgun, and just drove.

In between my junior and senior years in college, I decided that sounded like a fantastic idea.  Just hop in the car, drive from Michigan to Montana and back, and see what would transpire.  (It was probably about this time in my life that my Mom stopped splitting her time between praying for me and trying to reason with me, and just decided to devote her full time to praying for me.)

Before I begin, a word about my travelling accommodations:  You can take your Japanese auto quality and reliability of the 1990s and shove it, because I’m taking a Detroit engine every day of the week and twice on Sunday.  Continuing in Detroit’s fine tradition of comfortable beasts with big engines, my ride of choice was a 1997 black V-6 Pontiac Grand Prix, complete with gold rims and an upgraded stereo system.  And to top it off, this hog actually got a legit 30 mpg on the highway.  Perfection for a college student on a budget. 

The basic itinerary was to head north from West Michigan into the Upper Peninsula and then take a northern route to Glacier National Park in Western Montana (i.e., the lyrics to a Bob Seeger song).  The goal was to never stop at any Generica establishments (McDonalds, WalMart, etc.) the entire trip, with the only exception being nights in a Super 8 if I wasn’t near a hostel or camping.

Day 1 – Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore

Last week, I was in Chicago at the downtown Orvis store and picked up a book titled: “1,000 places to see before you die.”  I immediately started flipping through it to find the Michigan entries.  There was only one: Mackinac Island’s Grand Hotel.  I quickly put the book down and continued shopping, because the editor was clearly an idiot.  Situated on the southern shores of Lake Superior in between Munising and Grand Marais, Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore is a natural gem that 100% belongs in that book.  [Don’t believe me?  Click here.  See, I told you.]

The itinerary for day one was to hike a few miles to the shoreline at Chapel Rock and set up camp for the night.  Somewhere in the woods between the trail head and the camp site, I was ambushed by a flock of drunk old ladies.  This is not an exaggeration.  I was minding my own business enjoying the scenery, when out of the woods appeared 3 blue-haired grandmas.  One was holding a box of Franzia, with all 3 sporting full wine glasses.  The oldest of the bunch was sidled up next to me before I could blink and was getting a little too “handsy” with me and my water bottle.  Drunk Grandma:  “What ya got in there, sonny?  Vodka.”  Me:  “Uh, what?”  Drunk Grandma:  “Vodka.  It’s vodka, isn’t it?”  Me:  “Ma’am, I assure you that is water and not vodka.”  Drunk Grandma:  “That’s a shame.”  After dismissing me as no use to them, we chatted for awhile and parted ways.  Little did I know at the time, that odd encounter in the woods was just an appetizer for the randomness that would follow throughout my journey. 

After setting up camp on a cliff above the shoreline, I was treated to one of the top 5 sunsets I have ever seen in my life.  It had been overcast with light sprinkles throughout the day, but just as the sun was setting the horizon cleared and threw off the most amazing oranges and purples and reds onto the clouds.  (I still have a picture of this sunset hanging on the wall in my house.)  As the sun sank below the still, cold waters of Lake Superior, I knew this was going to be a good trip.

I don’t care who you are, when you are sleeping by yourself in the middle of woods, every noise takes on a different intensity.  While you may be asleep, part of your brain is still on high alert in fight or flight mode.  So when I was startled awake the next morning by something raising holy hell outside my tent, I was convinced either: 1) the old ladies were back and about to abduct me, or 2) a moose was about to give birth on top of my tent.  After my adrenal gland made sure I was way too awake for only being first light, I mustered the courage to unzip my tent – figuring I might as well see what was about to kill me.  No joke, not 50 feet away from my tent were 2 squirrels clinging to the side of a tree getting it on.  With my life safe for the moment, day 2 was off to a good, random start.

to be continued…