I got in the car and drove away from the last four years of my life without so much as a cursory glance in the rearview mirror. No sadness, no tears, no wild exuberance, no blasting of music to celebrate the long awaited departure. Instead, I felt ready, I felt comfortable.

In Omaha I watched and listened to a violence storm carried by 70 mph winds. It produced nickel-sized hail and wonderful relief from the 95 degree temperature and 100% humidity. I rested on the hotel bed and listened to storm bristle through.

Cheyenne proved a boring city with not much to offer. However, if you want to stay in a 1973-decorated hotel with a fantastic restaurant (they serve a mean free-range bison steak) look up the Best Western in Cheyenne. Other than that, downtown Cheyenne offers very little besides a quick walk and large belt-buckles.

Idaho, it seems, gets a very bad rap. Boise is a marvelous city. The downtown area is booming on weekend nights with innumerable people hitting the bars and clubs, dressed for dancing and one-night stands. One can find Egyption food, Basque food, Thai cuisine, and a small but thriving art community.

And now I sit in my uncle's basement, 2300 miles and four days later. We drove through plains and cornfields, through valleys, around, up, and down several mountain ranges. We stopped at the Columbia River Gorge to eat dinner with a large waterfall behind us and within view. Several years ago I fell for the Mississippi but I think the mighty Columbia is more breathtaking and spectacular, especially as I-84 parallels the river along the Washington/Oregon border.

I hope to find a job soon. I hope to settle in and develop some sort of routine. I hope to see the Gorge again soon, to visit Washington (Seattle! Woohoo!), to see Mt. St. Helens, to get back to the Pacific, to meet new people and discover new things about life and myself. I'm here. I'm ready. In the words of Quiz Kid Donnie Smith, "Make it happen."