The Fake Sound of Progress

This blog shouldn't have lasted two weeks.

The premise was simple, a daily account of a boy and his Kia through the terrible expanse of concrete and gravel between Bradenton, Fla., and Fairbanks, Alaska.

That was supposed to be the end.

But the story of a 10-day trip became the monthly adventures of that same boy in his Box, bravely (and sometimes savagely) fighting the perils of sub-zero cold and confined spaces.

Then summer came, and adventure followed ... and the blog fell behind because writing it required staying inside for more than 15 minutes. Only sleeping would bring me out of the sun for that long, and I didn't even do much of that.

So, lagging on the blog, I found a reasonable place to end it: the trip to the Arctic. What better way to end "the Diagonal" than with a story that finally completes the journey, going from the Atlantic to the Arcitc. The symmetry was there, and the story felt done.

It was supposed to end there.

And yet here I am.



It turns out I had the gusto for a Diagonal resurrection all along. Here's something I wrote last July and never posted. I'd forgotten about it until now:

I pull onto the short stretch of Johansen Expressway between Peger Road and University, merge into this town's laughable excuse for "traffic" and crank up the CD player to counter the whoosh of wind through the open window. The sun makes my skin feel warm and alive, and the natural light spashes off the pavement, making everything look whitewashed for a moment.

There are moments like this when I forget I've left Florida.

Right on University Avenue. Bump-ka-chunk over the train tracks and another right into a parking lot -- where even though the snow is gone and the lines for parking spots can be seen, people still pay no attention to them.

After a quick nod to the cashiers at Gulliver's Bookstore, I take the stairs three at a time to the Second Story Cafe, where I overpay for a bagel sandwich and make up for it with a few free cups of coffee.

This is where I do a lot of the writing for the Diagonal, away from the TV and other temptations. It's got free WiFi and, most importantly, an ouside deck that opens in the summer.

It was here that I strung together the account of my first night in Fairbanks -- after a failed attempt at a fantasy football draft -- and the place seems to be the only area where the standard rules of time apply.

Like the deck I'm sitting on now, the rest of Fairbanks seems to have opened up for the summer. Restaurants' tables spill out to the sidewalks and rooftops. Cyclists coast by on every street. Kids play in open lots and empty parking lots.

Hell, I'm even happy to see the swarming packs of tourists crossing downtown streets en masse with no regard for traffic. I'm used to dodging that; it beats the hell out of black ice.

So it doesn't seem like I've been here for a year, because I've only lived in this town for two months. I don't know what happened to that other barren, frozen outpost in the Tanana Valley desert, but it's not anywhere near here.

New home. New job. But the lag in posts stays the same.

Yup, I'm a sportswriter now. A sportswriter who lives in a 2 1/2-story house. In my last post I was still a lonely copy editor in a one-room efficiency so small that I once tripped at the door, fell through the living room and landed in the kitchen. How did I pull off such a meteoric rise? In one month, no less?

To be honest. I barely did a dang thing. I took the job when it opened at at desk not 5 feet to my left (sadly due to the loss of Adam to the Ashtabula Star-Beacon), and my new roommate/landlord, Lisa, offered me a better price than what I was paying at The Box without even knowing my lease was expiring.

And what a place it is:



I gotta tell you: Do nothing in life; it works wonders.

So please pardon my lack of posting, but I'm truly not sorry for it this time around. Why would I be inside typing on my laptop when I could be outside in the sunlight? At any time?

Honestly, there was 21 hours of daylight in June (it's now down to about 19), and even when the sun is down, there's still enough light to do just about anything. I've been getting out of work at 1 a.m., driving to Lathrop High School and running laps at the track without any artificial lights. I've killed time through the sundown hours watching a movie and driven to the overlook south of Fox and watched the sun come up at 3 a.m.

And I can enjoy all this glorious vitamin D in my backyard. That's right, I got one of those, too. Check it out:



It's been put to good use. Those hammocks are my standard lounging spot for reading, and, as proven on the Fourth of July, the place is AOK for BBQ.



That's mes amis (from top) Christi, Betsy and Joe enjoying my awesome place and crying on the inside because they'll go return to their one-story pads later.

Well, see you in a month? Hopefully sooner. Though that's up to me, I suppose.

That last line's a hoot ain't it?

Stay tuned. In the past three months, I've made a return trip to the Yukon River, delved into the heart of Denali National Park and paced the sidelines of a football field with glorious mountains providing the backdrop to a hellish Anchorage-a-thon.

I've got the fuel. I've got the nerve. I've almost got the wit to pull this off one more time.