(leb)Wohl

Wohl Across America Day 3: Nothin’ Left in the Tank

Today’s drive was so exhausting that I’ve got nothing for you except this haiku: Nebraska, Iowa Nothing around for miles Let’s go tip some cows OR Nebraska, Iowa Not much here; locals are thank- Ful for alcohol

By the way: There are a few photos at the bottom of this post

Goodbye, Salt Lake City.

On Wednesday, when I was perusing the shelves of a neat local bookstore in Fort Collins, Colorado, I asked my dear friend Glen for advice when it comes to writing and finding a creative spark.

“Thin places.” He said that someone had told him to write about thin places, but he didn’t explain what that meant. And honestly, I’m not sure of how to interpret that advice, either, but when I think on where I’ve been in the last 48 hours, I think I’ve got an idea.

It feels good to leave Salt Lake City, which, in my mind, constitutes as a thin place. Making friends and fitting in there was such a difficult experience, and it never felt like home. I was very lucky to have a few close friends that took me in and made my time there feel somewhat special, but I am glad to be gone. Unfortunately, Salt Lake City, and the state of Utah, weren’t ready for me to go.

Since leaving the state, my car has broken down twice: once in Arlington, Wyoming, a “census-designated place” with a population of 25 just outside of Laramie, and once in Fort Collins, Colorado, the town with 20 breweries and where a dear old friend currently lives. It’s strange–this little too-small-to-be-seen-on-a-map outpost had some of the most helpful, selfless people I’ve ever met, and Fort Collins made me feel right at home from the very moment I drove into town. To me, in spite of their size, these places have so much to offer, whether it be peoples’ generosity or killer beer, that they’re too dense to be considered a thin place.

Now, I might be way off the mark on “thin places,” but while I’m on the road, this is what I’m contemplating. A friend of mine from Salt Lake who had spent a lot of time in Laramie had always told me how special of a place it is, and with the way I was treated by a state highway patrolman after my car broke down, I know he was telling the truth.

I’m currently in Denver visiting my wonderful cousin Katie, and she’s doing great out here. On Thursday, I’ll get back on the road, and hopefully be back in Michigan by Friday night, as I rest up for the final leg to New York.

  Edit: Below is my original post, which goes into greater detail about what happened. It’s probably garbage but I thought it had some valuable content and decided not to delete it after I rewrote my post.

Goodbye Salt Lake City. 

It was inevitable that I would leave Salt Lake City; I never really loved the place, and while I made a couple of friends that I hope to remain in touch with(all of who made my final week in SLC unforgettable), my experience in Utah wasn’t ideal. It never felt like home, and as much as I wanted to pretend it did, my heart was always stuck east of the Mississippi. 

So, while I was ready to leave Utah, Utah wasn’t ready to let go of me. 

On my way into Wyoming, I noticed my car was starting to act a bit funny. The battery was not working properly, and the car slowly but surely started to die. About halfway between Rawlins and Laramie, Wyoming, in a little town called Arlington(actually it doesn’t even constitute as a village, it’s a “Census Designated Place,” or CDP, with a population of 25), my car completely died. I couldn’t get it to start, and a jump didn’t help either. Night was beginning to fall, but luckily my car decided to crap out in front of a public works building, where a Wyoming State Patrolman was sitting in his car. This fine gentleman, Kaycee, an honorable lawman in search of drug and sex traffickers, called a mechanic who happened to live in this “CDP” of 25, who diagnosed my problem. The officer drove me 45 miles to Laramie, we bought the part, and the mechanic installed it. I tried to offer him financial compensation and he politely refused me. The two of them saved me from some “Hills Have Eyes” scenario, and saw me on my way, and of that I will be forever grateful. 

Fast forward 90 miles to Fort Collins, Colorado–I stop at a gas station to use the bathroom and when I get back in my car, it’s completely dead. A jump doesn’t help. The gas station attendants let me keep my car there over night, but in the meantime I needed to find somewhere to stay. Luckily, my dear friend Glen, with whom I played in bands and went to school, lived in the same town and offered to let me crash at his place. We had a wonderful time catching up, playing FIFA, and exploring Fort Collins on Wednesday when my car was in the shop. Visiting with him was a joy and long overdue.

In the evening, my car was ready and I took off for Denver to have dinner and a brew with my cousin Katie. She’s making a living for herself in this amazing place, and wanted to share it with me. In the morning, I’m going to attempt to cover a lot of ground, but I’m not thrilled about driving through Nebraska. 

  Some friends of mine sent me music for the drive! Thanks guys! (I don’t love the title of that second selection.)

Glen and I while I waited for my car to be ready

Shameless Rest Stop Selfie–Wyoming

Shameless Rest Stop Selfie Pt. II

My favorite view of SLC on my last night in town

Fort Collins

Somewhere in Wyoming on I-80

Candid Camera Strikes Again

Wyoming Reststop View

Evi, a Greek Goddess, at breakfast for my final Utah meal. She’s a sweetheart.

Fort Collins

Somewhere in Wyoming

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Tonight as I drove home from the Huntington Center, gutted from watching Our Fish fall in a heartbreaking Game 7, I was bombarded with a swirl of emotions; I nearly had to pull over because I lost focus on the road while images of Cody Lampl’s beard, and Tyler Barnes’ masterful skating clouded my head. I thought of all the great memories I’d made throughout this year–the greatest year of my…

Today is a beautiful day, and as I walked to class, I was rummaging through my iPod to find some great albums that compliment the wonderful spring weather.

Here are my recommendations:

Animal Collective – “Merriweather Post Pavilion” 

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Start running. 

Dear Alex,

It’s me, You. It’s been a while since we last spoke. I think the last time you wrote to me was in January 2013, right around your birthday. If I remember correctly, you wrote to me about how hurt you were after your last relationship had ended. Man, those were dark times. I never doubted you’d pull through, but I have to admit, I was a little worried. But this feels different.Last time…