My travels took me through many states I’d never been to before, many for the briefest time, and so (because I like to make conclusions based of the slimmest of evidence, extrapolating from a tiny sample to find Truth) I herewith present my list of State Mottos Based On Just Driving Through.

My apologies to the denizens of the various states that I've slandered, and to those who think Nebraska got off too easy.

(Coming out from California I passed through a few states I’d been to before, and so have too many preconceived notions of them for this study. Texas was the last of these, and it’s too big to sum up easily, anyway. Probably needs at least 3 mottos…)

From Texas I went through Arkansas, where I saw my very first real live dead armadillo!

Or real dead dead armadillo, I guess…

And then visited a friend there who had a zillion creatures.

The goats came with the land, and it seemed she had never actually met them. They’d have been willing, I think.

I spotted them standing up on a high cliff above a stream, saying:

Goat #1 “Hey, it’s people! Wait for us! Oh, dang, how the heck do we get down there?

Goat #2 “Duh, I think we gotta jump, boss…”

Goat #1 “C’mon, that won’t work, it’s like 50 meters down!” (Goats are an old world creature, hence the meters.)

Goat #3 “I know, let’s just stand here and bleat mournfully!”

And so they did.

I suspect they didn’t come around the house because of the horses and donkey and dogs and cats and chickens and ducks and pheasants and snakes and such.

State motto:

Arkansas - The Many-Creatured State

And then it was on to Missouri!

On this leg of the journey I only stayed long enough to catch up on my sleep, so the genesis of the Missouri State Motto comes later.

(Illinois and Indiana made little impression on me, since I zipped through tiny slices of them at night. I think I’ll reserve their mottos until a further trip.)

Then Ohio.

I visited a friend in Cincinnati, and he told me that the city planners some time back had a ring road built around the city, anticipating future growth, which didn’t come. The result was the decay of the inner city. After leaving Cincinnati, I noticed that Columbus had the same feature, as did a couple of others. With the same result? I’m not sure.

Ohio - The Ringworm State*

(*Altered slightly, because it felt right.)

Pennsylvania was another night drive, but one thing I did notice was that I seemed to climb until halfway through, and then it was all downhill. Like the state was shaped like a saddle. And maybe Philadelphia is one of the stirrups.

But that’s map based, rather than experience based.

Pennsylvania - The Saddle State

New Jersey was where I parked to take the train into New York.

My directions said to get on the Garden State Parkway, heading south.

So I did, but came to a tollbooth, which asked for a quarter. I began frantically rummaging for change, but had spent it all on coffee in Pennsylvania… yaah! Cars behind me began honking, the booth was unmanned… I was in a bind, with no clear way out.

There was a place to grab an envelope (I don’t remember just what for - I think it was something that would have enabled me to stay legal,) but it was empty. And I was groggy from lack of sleep, having just driven all night from Cincinnati.

So I figured I’d better just drive on… as I went ahead, it looked like the little electronic board thingy said “toll paid.”

Was I hallucinating?

Does it say that if you procrastinate enough?

Did my rummaging in the empty envelope slot trigger something?

I may never know.

So I’m tempted to call New Jersey "The Inexplicable Tollbooth State,” but that’s too similar to Kansas’ motto.

New Jersey - The Parking State

I’ve been to New York too many times to see it afresh, so I’ll move ahead nearly two weeks…

From NY I drove west and south.

I’ve already mottoed Pennsylvania and New Jersey, so it’s on to Maryland.

I only drove through a tiny sliver of Maryland, but did stop for gas.

There was an eatery attached to the gas station store (remember when that was a rarity?) and I was getting hungry, so I went in to see what they had.

Fried chicken seemed to be the mainstay. I asked the counter person if they had any vegetarian options.

“We have chicken!” she offered brightly.

Then, a bit sadly, “but that probably isn’t what you’re looking for.”

As it turned out, they had nothing meatless at all, which surprised me a little. Usually there are at least french fries.

Maryland - The No Vegetarian Options State

So it was on to Virginia... but first:

I drove through West Virginia on the way, just a tiny bit of it. I like the motto I came up with for afterward, when I tried to go through West Virginia on the return trip, but couldn’t… even though it’s obviously wrong-ish.

Hey, it’s my study; I’ll tweak the results however I please!

West Virginia - The You Can’t Get There From Here State

Then into Virginia.

A red warning light came on my dash, telling me it was time for an oil change. I didn’t remember how long my mechanic told me it was Ok to ignore it for, something like 1,000 miles, I think.

But I was making good time, and decided to get it done in Harrisonburg, along with lunch.

This seemed to be a good choice of towns, since, as I drove along the main street, I saw a zillion auto shops of various sorts. I asked at an auto parts store, and they referred me to a place just down the road.

While the work was being done, I wandered over to a pizza place. It was staffed by Asians, and the only reading material was a newspaper all in Spanish.

As I ate my reasonably good $5.00 pizza, I attempted to read the paper con mi muy poquito espanol. There was an intriguing article about UFOs, and an ad for a dance club that must be seen to be believed. There were pictures of three very waspish looking women, with a headline about the sensuous movements of the ballerinas, if my translation skills are up to par. Then there was a cartoon image of “D.J. Negro” - with huge thick lips, looking very 30s. Haven’t seen that sort of thing in many a year.

Full, I went back to the auto shop waiting room to wait for my car.

A woman named Joyce struck up a conversation, and in defense I conversed back. This only seemed to encourage her, and so we discussed my travels, her travels, Harrisonburg, whether and why people were friendlier in the South.

Then her car got done and she left, and soon I, too, was on my way.

When I got to my sister’s friend’s house, said friend was downstairs with my sister, trying on shoes or something like that. Her 11 year old son greeted me, and we chatted and hung out a bit, sitting on deck chairs and watching the foggy dusk fade into foggy night. His manner suggested that he’d known me all his life, which struck me as a bit surprising, since I’d never met him, and hadn’t even seen his mother in 35 years.

His mother was very friendly, too, and we chatted about people being eaten by bears and the like.

Virginia - The Extremely Friendly State

Well, the next morning we headed back towards Missouri…

I tried to head north at one point, to go through a bit of West Virginia, and hit a terrible traffic jam. The traffic was moving very little, and I could see perhaps a mile ahead that there was no relief. Fortunately there was a place where I could cross the median and head the other way, so I did.

West Virginia - The You Can’t Get There From Here State

Next state, Kentucky!

We went the long way through the middle of Kentucky, winding along Highway 50. I realized that having a map would be a good idea, and so, about an hour into the rainy lightning storm, I stopped at a gas station and asked for a Kentucky map.

“Hm, we’r out,” he said. “Wur y’headed?”

“Missouri,” I said.

“Cain’t help y’thur” he said.

At that point a customer entered the store.

Noticing I was trying to find a map, he asked “wur y’headed?”

“Missouri.”

He couldn’t help me, either, and so I drove on, mapless, through the swampy hollows and dank crevices of this seemingly-also-friendly state.

Kentucky - The Hollow State

(Actually, I had a map of the whole US, good for the big picture, but not so good for details.)

But we did make it back to Missouri, where I stayed the next coupla weeks.

I noticed there a phenomenon there that I had never encountered before - I’d be outside, a gentle breeze blowing through the warm air, and a warm, moist globule of air would waft, or possibly lurch into me. (It was invisible, so I couldn't be sure which it was.)

Is this the swamp gas phenomenon, of which I’ve heard so much? Or something else? Anyway, I had my motto.

Missouri - The Warm Moist Wafting Balls State

Finally, it was westward, ho!

Around Kansas City I veered into Kansas on the interstate… there was a sign at a fork, with I-70 going off to the left, and 415 straight ahead.

The sign stated that I-70 was a tollroad! What?! On the interstate?

Is this France or something?

Irritated, I made a snap decision, and took the 415 fork, leading me back into Missouri.

Kansas - The Toll Road State

I took I-19 north, and as soon as it crossed into Iowa there was a powerful smell of… *snif! *snif! … dirty socks!

Is Iowa the state where the Other Sock goes?

Somehow I thought those were always clean, usually being beamed straight out of the dryer… But one can’t argue with the evidence.

Iowa - The Dirty Socks State

I was only in Iowa for about half an hour, though, and then it was Nebraska.

Nebraska seemed dark and featureless as I drove through the night.

Halfway through it also became very foggy. An ideal place from which to vanish into The Twilight Zone… by this time it was well past twilight, though, so I drove on.

Before I reached to next state though, a foggy dawn broke, casting the whole state in a different light.

I was going to call it the Dark and Featureless State, but instead…

Nebraska - The Foggy Dawn State

Then Wyoming.

While driving through on the interstate, I came to signs saying I was at the Great Divide, which I think is where all the water goes one way or the other, depending. The strange thing is that I came to two, or maybe three such signs.

Isn’t that impossible? I see on the map that there appears to be a valley of some sort entirely surrounded by the Great Divide… I think someone screwed up, but what the heck.)

Wyoming - The Great Divides State

* I later found out, at Mono Lake, that about one fifth of the US is in what is known as the Great Basin. What this means is that any water that makes it to this area, whether by river, rainfall or other method, does not drain to any sea. It ends up in lakes such as Mono Lake or the Great Salt Lake, never to leave except by evaporation or a really big splash. I assume that the area between the Great Divides is part of the Great Basin, but have not looked it up.

Then it was on to Utah, where I’d been before, so no motto.

So here is the list, for those who like to walk (or drive) with one:

State Mottos Based On Just Driving Through:

The End
2005