I did not make a New Year's Resolution this year. A certain friend will claim that I have resolved to do whatever I want to do without regard for consequence in 2010, but how much trust can you place in a resolve that is made at 1am in the throes of fresh-start hysteria? The only resolution I've committed to consistently over the past two years is the resolution to not make resolutions.
Regardless, 2010 has been a year of surprisingly good luck...luck of the sort that may result in a whole decade of stellar moments. From cross-country escapades to gasp-inducing spectacles, my daily adventures have taken me from sunny, beloved California back to the wintry Northeast, and I have been collecting trunksfuls of memories which will, in retrospect, award this year as being the beginning of a great decade.
All I can say is, it's about time.
Some of you may recall that I drove cross-country at the beginning of January this year. The beloved Jetta (faithful manual friend to the family), myself, a long-time friend, and a finnicky GPS navigator lovingly named Greta journeyed from the golden hills of California across the wintry landscape of Route 70 to Northern New Jersey, where Jetta will now permanently reside. The trip was a success, given that it was a) the dead of winter, b) Jetta was in no way equipped with snow-proof anything, and c) two slightly madcap artists were clocking 50 hours of driving in under 6 days.
My brother-in-soul Chad accompanied me from gorgeous San Jose down to gaudy Las Vegas, through overly-arid, overly-nice Utah, into winding, quaint Colorado, past fog-laden Kansas, beyond frighteningly zealous Missouri, around peaceful Ohio, into delicious and restful Virginia, all the way up the Eastern thoroughfare I-95 to bustling JFK...whilst engaging me for 4 days in that exquisite rhetorical debate of "Would you rather...?"
For those who have not yet been blessed with the opportunity to engage in this game of choosing between two life-altering disasters, know that it ultimately results in sacrificing either your dignity or your vanity. In any case, debates can (thankfully) rage for days, and when faced with a barren landscape of trees in West Virginia that reminds one of adolescent facial hair, choosing between no arms or no legs becomes an inherently fascinating topic.
(And for the record: General opinion agrees that to have screaming faces on your fingernails is far better than sporting an assortment of noses on your scalp, and although I'd rather be a unicorn than a phoenix, choosing between smelling faintly of clam chowder or tasting like sour milk simply renders one speechless with despair.)
The journey being long, I was prepared for foot cramps and long streches of pavement, but I was unprepared for the simply extaordinary experiences of Americana. The first hint at the stellar-ness of this new year was the Farewell Ceremony at the California-Nevada border at sunset on Sunday. After rolling into the Last Gas Station in California on a tank full of Red-Light Empty, I stretched my legs and perused the store for a memento to mark the occasion of Jetta's Last Night in Cali. I searched fervently for christening agents: an avocado and some sunscreen (California mascots), only to settle on a surfboard keychain (the only item in the store that paid homage to California). Chad joined me in the checkout line, eyes urgent, meaning he either just witnessed human inanity in all its splendor, or finally discovered the Sacred Waterfall Urinal Mecca, that glorious Las Vegas-style spectacle in what would elsewise be a forgettable pit stop event. It was the latter. And a little bit of the former. (Nothing says Darwin Award like a urinal that splashes back.)
While he explained the sheer absurdity of relieving oneself into a tropical paradise pool, I tried to explain the lack of California memorabilia to be found at this Last Pit Stop Til Nevada. Both of us exited the storefront with mouths agape at the unlikely findings...the tiny keychain and the plethora of "Welcome to Nevada" kitch (fanny packs for your gambling coins, anyone?), but more memorably the scenic urinal experience. Debating whether or not to continue into Nevada before sunset, we realized that this would indeed be Jetta's last few moments of California Life. What better way to commemorate the years of service Jetta had provided along Highways 280 and 101 than a changing of the keys?
Phoning Dan for his last thoughts, I recorded a few words of gratitude, and then proceeded to thank Jetta for its service to us over the years, and officiated the new journey by slipping on the surfboard keychain, all the while symbolically facing West, with the sun slowly withdrawing behind the silhouette of two Mack trucks and their onlooking corn-fed, buckle-heavy drivers (who were staring with eyes urgent in our direction). After a few breaths, we slipped back into the car and crossed the border out of California and into the Jetta's New Life, precisely as the radio crooned that we were "little children out on a lucky streak".
A stellar Last Moment if ever car had one.
Venturing across the country the rest of the week merited even more awesome, stellar moments (the bulk of which would be too numerous to recount in detail for this post). However, highlights included the Muddy River Cafe (aka GOOD FOOD, a desert establishment complete with decent food, an over-sized soft-focus portrait of John Wayne, and a set of six-year old triplets aptly named after famous Hollywood cowboys), snowy Utah's Fishlake National Park (escaping a near-lock-out situation with the car keys when one went missing off a snow-laden sandstone cliff), fog-covered Kansas (the only part of Kansas we actually saw was a large billboard proclaiming that "Jesus is Real"), unforgettable home-cooked meals (special thanks to Colorado, Ohio, and Virginia households for the sumptuous meals and warm and cozy beds!), Missouri in all its glory (some Bible Belt stereotypes are indeed alive and resplendent), and staying ahead of the raging storms (we missed every single storm that was predicted for the route, a miracle which cemented the journey as lucky).
Upon arriving in the Tri-State area on the first Friday of 2010, I felt a twinge of sadness after dropping my co-pilot off at JFK, as if the journey had been halted without warning. So much had happened, everyday, that I felt fearful of the events ahead - would the luck continue? Would I have more adventures like this, and (most importantly) would I be able to continue feeling lucky? However, as I was sitting at a red light on the corner of Brooklyn and the End of the First Week of 2010, I couldn't help feeling triumphant - as if I had started off the New Year right, and though Jetta had ended one life, another was beginning...and the good fortune of the journey would lay the groundwork for a decade of lucky streaks in my own life. I couldn't predict how or when these streaks would come, or what they would deliver, but I was confident in having no resolve for 2010.
After all, the beauty of having no expectations nor resolutions is that everyday miracles take on life-altering significance, and the elation of a lucky streak can fuel you through uncertainties the same way that memories of California sunsets will warm you through the remainder of a New England winter.
All I can say is, it's going to be a good year.
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