It's a bluebird day here in Bluegrass Country, and I've been watching it roll by beyond mesh screens as I slave away at the computer. Our mild winter was my first after almost a decade in the deep South, and it was nice while it lasted. But days like today make me appreciate springtime even when it's going on without me. The smell of cookouts and blossoming dogwoods, the sounds people make when enjoying the above smells, the sight of bare arms, legs, and midriffs on the female population--these are the things that make you want to sit back and smile, luxuriating in the beauty of our temperate climes.Depending upon the research you believe, though, those temperate climes may be nearing their end. Global warming is happening as I write this, and carbon dioxide emissions are increasing the world over. China is burning coal at a rate that will see it equaling the rest of the world's combined smokestack output in a few short years. The rain forests are still being cut down, and urban green spaces are still endangered species in their own right. People in the States are driving bigger, less efficient vehicles, and any viable alternatives to fossil fuels are a long way from hitting the mainstream.
This Earth Day saw regular gas prices nearing four dollars around San Francisco and other major metro areas, and we're paying almost three here in Kentucky. Full disclosure: I've got a big red Jeep that I feel guilty driving anymore, but I can't afford to go hybrid or biodiesel or anything else just yet. I drove the Jeep out West in 2004, when gasoline prices were around $2 a gallon at the high end, and I remember cringing when I compared my gas budget with those of previous cross-country excursions in my trusty Honda Civic (the Jellybean Express, or "Bean," so-named for its vaguely pinkish hue). The Bean was a paragon of fuel economy, and it made possible the kind of Great American Road Trip that this country has held sacred since the dawn of the Automobile Era. It's not simple rhapsodizing when I tell you that the American West is best viewed from behind the wheel of a car doing eighty on a straightaway, sun shining through open windows as red desert rolls into purple mountains' majesty stretching the breadth of the horizon. That's freedom, baby--extra large with fries and a shake.
It's also what Bobby Troup was talking about when he wrote a catchy little ditty about Route 66. That road is now officially defunct, but you can find its remaining stretches around the western side of I-40 with a good map. The halcyon days of the road trip may also go the way of 66--that is, if they aren't already dying on the vine of communal memory. You can't just pack up the family, turn on the radio and explore anymore. Not with gas at these prices.* ExxonMobil posted record earnings of $36.1 BILLION dollars in 2005, but their shareholders are the only ones enjoying the windfall. Even they might be forced to hock a few stocks to put juice in the family wagon, as the rest of us just bend over at the pumps (and do a lot more walking), wondering why we're really at war.
It's a terrible, crowning irony that when you go out in search of America, you usually wind up spoiling a little bit of it in some way. Driving through Yellowstone the few times I've been, I always hated the fact that to get anywhere in the park during the summertime you had to sit in traffic, choking down the collected emissions of hundreds and thousands of other vehicles. The walk from the parking lot to Old Faithful takes several minutes while you pass dozens of rows of variegated metallic beasts that get bigger and louder every year. But whaddya do? It's America, that parking lot. And those childlike smiles on everyone's faces when the geyser gets going? That's America, too. And sadly, America is now also a place where such smiles carry a nastier price tag, in terms of both dollars and geopolitics.
You might recognize Winslow, Arizona from the Eagles' "Take It Easy," the tune with Glenn Frey "standin' on a corner" (and there's a small park with a bronze statue of Frey standing on--yup--a downtown corner). Winslow was once a much busier stop along Route 66, but since the interstates were built it's dwindled to a speck in the desert near Meteor Crater. The trains still roll through, and the few motels in town do summertime business with roadweary families stopping for the night. But if the motorists stop motoring, towns like Winslow across this great nation run the risk of turning into so many ghost towns. I can think of few things sadder than imagining my city-dwelling children hearing about the good old days, when their old man could afford to hit the road with only a few hundred bucks to his name and see the wide-open expanses of Flyover Country, long-lost places with names like Tucumcari and Choteau, Green River and Mountain Home.** When airline travel becomes more affordable than the Great American Road Trip, whole stretches of Americana might disappear into history.
I might be accused of speaking hyperbolically and pessimistically on this point, but the greater point remains: we're at a crucial moment in the history of our nation, and gas prices are one symptom of a worsening disease. So what can we do about it, right? How do we preserve our uniquely American experience while crossing such dire cultural, economic, and ecological straits? We can start by haranguing our representatives in Washington who consistently shoot down efforts to make American vehicles more efficient. We can support legislators who support broad strokes like the Kyoto Protocol--which our current administration has ignored, much to the chagrin of the global body politic. We can do our level best to rein in our own emissions, whether that means getting a tune-up or buying a Prius. The problem is bigger than any of us, though it's not beyond changing. Not yet. But the future is happening everyday, and every day that nothing changes means we get closer to a time when you can only see America from the tiny windows in coach class.And who knows what it might look like by then?
*: Although Barry Sonnenfeld's upcoming RV, starring the recently-just-depressing Robin Williams, seems to be selling just that. It looks pretty lighthearted and the trailer doesn't offer many clues, but I would be interested to see if the issue of gas prices comes up even as a throwaway line. I'm placing no bets, and I'll have to hear about it secondhand. Those nine dollars will almost buy three gallons.
**: Respectively located in New Mexico, Montana, Utah, and Idaho. The latter is curiously removed from the nearest mountain range, more than a hundred miles away. Nobody I asked could offer anything in the way of explanation, but I figure it might be like calling a one-armed southpaw "Righty."
