Animal Writings

When I see cows grazing, I say to them, out loud, like Howard Lyman, the Mad Cowboy, "I don't eat you any more." I tell them, "I don't drink your milk, either." I don't say this out of joy—there is still much suffering— but for reassurance.

People so quickly turn aggressive and "me against you" combative in their cars. Yet they also respond graciously to the smallest kindnesses, and often return the favor. It's as if we're mostly teetering between our better natures and our worser natures, and the slightest push from either direction determines which side will predominate.

At one point along the trip I feel like I'm in a cartoon, where the same mountains and trees keep repeating in the scenery.

Rush Limbaugh is gross.

I spot a bumper sticker that says "W is for Wiretap."

The Sheetz truck says "Good food travels fast." So does bad food.

It was just a quick glance, bit it looks like The Fireside Inn has burned down.


On the Pennsylvania Turnpike, I pass billboard after billboard for milk, cheese, hunting, fishing, and firearms. Then I see a giant billboard for Maggie's Vegetarian Cafe. Be still, my beating heart! Even though I had lunch not long ago, I must stop there, out of principle. I have Jamaican jerk tempeh, bean salad, and a soy apple-mango-blueberry smoothie, and it is DELICIOUS. The restaurant has been in operation for five years, and if you're ever traveling along the Pennsylvania Turnpike near exit 91 for Donegal, please go there.

Near Pittsburgh I pick up "Radio Disney." It is by far my favorite station of the trip. It isn't my style at all—I can't explain it. But it is my soundtrack for an hour. It fades out, along with the Allegheny Mountains and the sun, around 6 p.m.

This I see several times: A car is going 70 miles an hour in the left lane. Another car wants to go even faster, and bears down on the first car. Even though the lead car is slowly passing a car in the right lane, and cannot move over yet, the second car is right on the first car's rear end, tailgating by perhaps half a car length. I'd like to know what a) Darwin, b) Freud would have to say about this.

At a truckstop, there is a guy with a long gray beard. Another guy with a barrel chest is wearing a Harley Davidson t-shirt. An even bigger guy has a pony tail and a t-shirt with a picture of a wolf howling at the moon. All the men except me wear caps. There are showers and laundry facilities upstairs according to the sign. There are large American flags on the wall.

One side of the truck stop is "Gold Rush Jewelry," with a big sign that says "30% off total store." I have half a mind to make them an offer for the entire outfit.

If I'm going to be stuck in a meat and potatoes joint, I prefer places like this—grizzled men (and women) hauling stuff. No pretense of faux-sophistication. No liberals, claiming to be for "the little guy," feasting on the flesh of the littlest guy: a chicken who endured a short and miserable life so a bunch of "progressives" could boast over dinner how they're opposed to exploitation.

A lot of bridges are scenic. Some are majestic.

In Ohio, there are lots of dead animals on the road, including a dog with white fur.

Right now, somewhere, a truck carrying pigs is driving through a thunderstorm. The rain is crashing against the truck, and the wind is making the back of the truck sway from side to side. The pigs have been starved for two days and have not had any water on the trip, even though they have been on the truck for 18 hours. The pigs are frightened, weak, and uncomfortable. One or two will collapse; their legs, which have never exercised, can no longer hold up their genetically altered bodies. The pigs' lives have been dreary and frustrating—mostly standing in place, in a cage. They've never had one day that could be called "happy." These inquisitive, intelligent animals started out biting on their cage bars, desperate to get out, until they gave up. Now they're crowded into a truck, on their way to the slaughterhouse, where they'll be hung on hooks.

You can give up meat and dairy and eggs (all those animals live the same hellish life and make the same ride as soon as they're no longer economically useful) right this instant. Even if you think you need meat every day and even if you come from a farming family. The objections are all in your head. It's easier than you think. If you crave the taste of pork, try GardenBurger Riblets and Lightlife Smart BBQ, and veggie ham and tempeh bacon, and lots of other prepared vegetarian foods and recipes that reproduce the taste—and that create new tastes.

Our human creations can't compete with nature's large achitectural wonders like mountains and canyons. Where we may come closest: a skyline.

A trip across this country would deepen your relationship with America. You might not like it any better by the time you were done, and you might even like it worse. But you'd have that shared history. You and the country and the characters you met—warts and all. Enough cross-country trips and you'd be joined at the hip. I can start to understand why the truckers who traverse every corner of this land have those big flags.

Some native Ohioans greet me. They are perched in tall trees and hidden in the underbrush along the river bank. Each one sings a beautiful song. There are chirps and coos and honks and warbles and trills. It is grand and it is sweet, and it is a wonderful welcome. Hello, you guys, I'm glad to be here!