Away We Go: Eyes On The Road

The car has now beeped at me for the fourteenth time this hour. The orange eye on the dashboard blinks: “Keep Eyes on the Road.”

It has no idea about the infeasibility of this request. I cannot actually do that in the presence of these canyons. These rocks of made of color unseen by this Oklahoman.  I could spend an entire day photographing these textures and still have only scratched the surface.

So in defiance of this machine’s good advice and common sense, I will not keep my eyes on the road. It is not to be done. There are far too many mountains, canyons, sandy and snowy landscapes beside the many thousands of miles of road we are passing.

There are pine tree shadows longer than I can cover in a breath. There are clear skies and ones that invite me to imagine animal shapes from the passing clouds. I wish often to be a bird (that can carry a camera) so I could exit the sunroof, flit away, capture, and return. There are glittering piles of snow and sparkling wave tips of alpine lakes. There are things I couldn't hope to capture in a shutter click so I don't I try. Then it’s to ensure the moment will stick by reminding myself of how I might not be here again or if I am it wouldn't be the same thing anyway. The clouds obscure a mountaintop in just this way once.

There it beeps again. I turn my eyes to the dashboard briefly and note the number of miles displayed. When on foot I have a good sense of a mile covered. But with wheels rotating rapidly on pavement they tick away, measured in the shifting of digital digits. A mile walked up a mountain is an accomplishment; I had always believed sitting in front of a wheel is a means to get me to that trail. But as I'm spending so much more time in the car, as it has become one of two vehicles that can be called my home, it has become more. What I see out these windows is a part of this journey just as much as closing my eyes with only a layer of tent canvas between me and the moon.

So I will only keep my eyes on the road enough to keep the wheels between the lines. Otherwise I will be looking in front and to both sides. Looking for the deer with ears pricked and head turned, the chipmunk hauling itself rapidly across the road, the sharp and improbable angle of a tree clinging to the mountainside.

Thank you for the help, but sorry I can’t. There’s too much to miss out here.

This story was created based on experience at Uintah National Forest.