Lost Highway
Sunday, July 29th, 2007
Highways, and specifically, the road trips taken on them, have always been considered a metaphor for change or freedom, but are they? The highway–with its wide open space all around, a painted ceiling of infinite sky, an endless carpet of empty fields, miles of mirage-distorted asphalt disappearing behind you and stretching out in front of you–is actually more like another plane of existence. It is so unbelievably big, that you can’t help becoming mesmerized by it and drifting off into some narcotic-soaked dreamland. The hours slip by while you float in your semi-conscious state, lulled by the white noise of the cars and trucks, motorcycles and RVs that hum by.
There is no escape, not even at the random rest stops, unreal park-like worlds filled with a bizarre mix of strangers moving about. Stopping and getting out of your vehicle, your body feels heavy and disoriented. Everyone around you looks groggy and zombie-like, as if abruptly awakened from a nap.
Then there are the actual exits, a repeating montage of sameness, with each designed to look familiar, so as not to remind people they’re actually somewhere they’ve never been. The reassurance comes from the chain restaurants and gas stations and motels that are carefully arranged to invite people into the dream of being in a place that looks like home. You can continue your drowsy mood here, because there is nothing jarring or foreign enough to shake you out of it. Relax, you haven’t left your comfort zone even though in reality you’re 1784 miles away from home. All the same stuff is here. You are fine. You are safe. So relax, fill up your tank, eat some food, and pay an outrageous amount of money to sleep in a bed for the night.
But, by all means, don’t think too much. Don’t look too hard through the veneer of the illusion because what you see may frighten you out of your wits, and by god then what would you do? Who would you call? Who would help you? And how would you explain that you’re afraid to be in someplace new surrounded by hundreds of strangers and too much open space? That those huge farms with the houses spread out on all that acreage makes your chest hurt just imagining living with that much isolation. You are in your own country but feel as though you’ve been dropped out of the sky into a foreign land.
No don’t think. Just drive and dream and let the hallucination work its magic on your mind. The highway is really a sedative designed to keep you believing in the predictability of life. Only on those rare occasions when something happens to break up the routine, such as engine trouble, do you get to peek inside the life going on behind the blandness of highway rest stops and exits. Even if you decide to stay for several days in one place, you will still see it through a tourist’s trance, not the reality of the people whose day to day lives are going on there. That would be more than you’d want to know because you’re on vacation and the last thing you need is to be reminded of all that drudgery and pain and human drama.
Behind all those billboards beckoning you to take a look at all the wonderful things they’re offering, are the people creating that illusion for you. Who sleep in beds and shower and watch tv in between the times they’re staging their show. Not to worry, they don’t want you to be bothered by all that. They want you to relax enough to spend your money freely, take pictures, and tell your friends they ought to stop there sometime.
Yes, highways are a metaphor, but rarely do they represent the catalyst for change or promise of freedom they once did, instead they’ve become one more monotonous monument to banality and maintaining the status quo. Road trips are great, and most of us fantasize about the mind-altering escape they offer from our daily lives. However, unless you get off the highway and drive on back roads, you will see what others want you to see, no more, no less. It is a sanitized, homogenized, view of life, refurbished to cater to the least common denominator: the masses.
A lost highway indeed.



