Day 10: Religification

It should come as no surprise that visiting with dear friends from life’s key transformative years after a 20 year interruption AND visting them within the same formative environment where it all happened would trigger a wide range of emotions and recollections.


(my Baton Rouge lair in 1988 after a particularly fun party)

When I planned this trip…the Baton Rouge experience was to be the cherry on top of the 3000 miles of adventuring that lead up to being here. There’s still 2000 miles to go…so perhaps it’s a little premature to call this the apex…but this will undoubtedly be the pinnacle experience from the human perspective of the trip.

There’s such a sensory overload occurring here that it blinds any present understanding of the net spiritual effect of this event. When contemplating how quickly it seems these 20 years have passed…it’s no wonder I am a bit bewildered, contemplating mortality and feeling a not-quite-defined yet distinct sense of sadness and loss. I felt this feeling in Baton Rouge when I lived here...and perhaps it has something to do with the symbols connecting life and death being so prevalent in Baton Rouge.



Intellectually I understand there was no way to live both lives open to me when I hit that proverbial fork in the road after graduation…but I wish I could go down to the liquor store and pick up a bottle of “Jeff Suhy Baton Rouge Life - 1993” and take a swing or two.

I'll have to settle for more of the 1942 instead.



Hey…while I’m plying these waters…thought I’d spend a little time visiting a unique Louisiana locale….one of the many "Cities of the Dead"….places occupied by rows of deceased citizens in above-ground tombs.



The experience of spending a little time in one of these places will bring you to the present….especially when you are all fucked up thinking about the insanity of life. To this day most who have died in southern Louisiana are buried above ground due to the reality that storms here can literally raise the dead.





One of my most unfortunate experiences from the years I lived here took place in this particular "city." It certainly did not help that it occurred while under the influence of a hallucinogenic substance and in the company of a particularly insensitive anarchist tripping companion. I watched while he lit a torch and placed it into one of these many decomposed tombs in order to reveal the remains of a decomposed citizen to this horrified soul…a memory that still haunts me to this day.

I considered there was a good chance I’d get the heebeegeebees coming back here...and I thought that perhaps I’d just drive by and keep on rolling...but the beauty and power of this place is hard to resist. I had stopped to take a little walk to observe this haunting place from a more respectful perspective this time.  It's a lot more relevant nowadays too...I'm closer to being one of these spirits than I was last time through.

The tombs are so tightly packed it’s hard to walk through. This being a city of low-income deceased-citizens and all. The rich are a little higher off the ground and their tombs are a little less ovenlike. None of those wealthy persons are resting in this place.

There really is no way to navigate around the city without climbing on top of and over tombs (bodies) to get deeper into the older part of the city. I’m sure it’s bad form…but I did it. There was no other way to get in. Any offense also pales in comparison to my last transgression here.



Nature is reclaiming these tombs and it feels organic and proper. The faces of the deceased are even emerging in the the tree gnarls. I'm telling you....there's magic/voodoo in Louisiana. It's a place unlike Los Angeles in that it wears decay proudly.

Death, spiritual icons, ancient oaks, bayou vistas, long lost familiar places and friends that knew me before I knew myself. This is the palate cleansing I came for...and just what I needed to appreciate the good fortune in my life and to be reminded how tenuous and fragile it is.



I woke up the next morning and had breakfast at one of my old favorite diners on the LSU campus.  The characters in this town never cease to amaze me.

Upon departure from Baton Rouge I was to enter the isolation phase of the trip.

The next 4 days as I make my way back to LA will not involve any direct human interaction other than an occasional “I’d like to check in please.”

The impending 2000 miles could not be more anticipated at this point. I can think of no better way to digest the last 48 hours.



I’ve been wondering about fun lately…and I can say with some confidence that "fun" is being trumped on this trip by "satiated" and I could not be more pleased.

I am witness once again to the fact that the great American Road Trip is alive and well...and will pay dividends to those willing to take it on in the proper spirit.

Day 9: Onward and Downward

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It may be an obvious statement but suffice to say this trip is not only about sitting in Precious and driving 5000 miles. I believe I’m just the latest in a long line of persons who seek enlightenment through to process of driving into the unknown. Clearly…there is something innate in the American Psyche that associates road trips with transformative moments in life. I am compelled by this promise as well as by having experienced a number of road trips over the years which have been exceptionally memorable.

1962 300SE Cabriolet Road Trip in 2005

(Photos by the wife...Leslie Suhy)

Why is the road trip such a powerful event in one’s life?

A proper road trip is about the resultant desolation and/or enlightenment experienced by the road tripper as a direct result of placing one’s self in situations which naturally occur as a byproduct of the adventure. Almost invariably a road trip serves a higher purpose if it’s long enough and if you choose the right route. If you only travel on the freeway, only stay in predictable chain hotels and never talk to anyone it’s highly unlikely you will encounter the chaotic ingredients necessary to cook up an experience that leaves you satisfied.

This particular road trip for me comes at crossroads in my life. I would imagine you would not take on a road trip of this magnitude without a craving of some sort. I imagine I’ll get into some of the variables that constitute this craving but suffice to say for the moment that it’s not easy to build a creative life while steeped in a daily life of utility and duty. This road trip signifies an effort to gain momentum towards a new phase of life. This road trip is taken in the hope it will assist in the deconstruction of my reality and enable me to rebuild upon the good elements. I expect to move onward and upward from wherever I am now…In my experience that only happens after a slight detour outward and downward.

Today’s driving route retraces a significant route from an earlier time in my life where I suppose I would have been going through a similar search for a deeper meaning. I’m hoping that following a path which holds so many memories and experiences will trigger revelations, shocks and electricity that will strike a miraculous chord. Perhaps I’ll study decisions I’ve made in my life from a new perspective? Will I find comfort or distress looking at my life from this rare outside perspective?

I first drove this route while attending LSU in 1983. Having pretty much no idea what I wanted to do with my life I figured that I’d go to the warmest place that would have me and figure things out when I got there. I remember coming to Baton Rouge on my recruiting trip and being immediately struck by how ALIVE it is in Louisiana. Every nook and cranny filled with some kind of life or another.

The humid air is filled with a distinct potpourri of unregulated oil refinery toxins, boiled crawfish, small town sorority girl perfume and moldy things growing everywhere. It was also a bonus that Louisiana was the last state with a drinking age of 18...an age that mattered greatly to an 18year old making such a decision. It all came together for me and I felt this was the place to figure it all out. Given Baton Rouge’s toxicity level and rich dietary proclivities it’s also the most likely place in the USA to hatch mutated life forms outside of Tokyo.

Speaking of mutations...I think I started this as a blog about my obsession with cars?

The first thing that strikes me on this leg of the journey is how much nicer the terrain becomes the further south one travels. Today’s drive is over 600 miles…and in spite of increasingly hazardous road conditions on this particular day…it was becoming more visually stimulating, more driver friendly (less traffic) and more green the further south I went.

At one point a bit outside of Memphis the conditions became quite a concern:

(hailing in Arkansas at a particularly degradated and yet very beautiful location)

With the temperature hovering just below freezing and ice falling from the sky and clinging to the trees. I considered stopping for the night and waiting it out. Before I could get too deep into taking any action along these lines the ice turned into a soft rain and I officially escaped the brutish north and entered the sweet south.

Upon entering Tennessee I was free and clear. My focus moved towards the purpose for visting Baton Rouge. I was excited at the prospect of seeing people I’ve not seen in 20 years.

I wanted to revisit places I’ve not been to in 20 years.

(oak trees on LSU Campus)

Remember things I’ve not thought about in 20 years

I’m storming southward towards a confrontation with the spectre of that guy...I barely remember him even though he still inhabits this skin?

In the red corner it’s super dad:

He’s 43 years old and married with 2 youngsters along with a mortgage and all the “things” he ever wanted.

In the blue corner he’s a 22 year old KLSU music director and carefree senior at LSU:

He makes $50 a week at the aforementioned “job” and really likes psychedelics and any experience that will push the limit. He could give a shit what you think ‘cause he’s moving to Hollywood when he graduates. He also has a new girlfriend.

Today's drive was a bit more eventful than I expected…but just like anything memorable...that’s what made it worth doing. I saw other people careening and crashing...

...but my Precious pulled me through safe and sound.

I pulled into Jeana’s driveway and said goodnight to Precious.

(Precious in front of my 1986-1988 Baton Rouge apartment)

The road for the next day or so is one I want to traverse as slowly as possible and is thusly not resonant with the services offered by my highly strung Precious. It’s time to soak it all up, connect with a missed community of friends and reflect.

Day 5 & 6: Discovering the Greatest Day of My Life

I grew up in Suburban Chicago which I've always believed to be one of the most aesthetically unpleasing places I've ever seen...much less live. It's not run down, it's not cheap, it's not without great people...but it's uninspired and consists primarily of shopping malls and office "parks" many of which seem deserted.

A cold March storm, 24/7 grey sky and a dumpy hotel certainly did nothing to change the perception. I took advantage of my time here and connected with family and friends that I've neglected for too long. A grand total of about 5 minutes were spent exposed to the elements.

It is hard for me to come back here due to a deeply ingrained repulsion from this place....and it's hard to motivate myself to even photograph it because there is nothing visually stimulating about it.

There was once a bit of inspiring film taken here that I recently discovered. It was a super 8 video my dad took of me on the day I got my driver's license back in 1982. I think that may have been the happiest day of my life. While I suppose I should say it was the day I got married or had my kids...the reality is that there is probably no happier day than the day I gained motorized mobility. Have I mentioned that I love cars? I could have gotten into that car and driven anywhere at any time. Of course I didn't go anywhere (immediately)...but being finally enabled was an indescribable feeling. It was the first step towards escaping Schaumburg, Illinois.

This clip sprang to mind when I arrived at my Dad's home to bid him farewell as I began the next leg of the trip. He's lived here for 30 years now and it looks pretty much the same....

For nothing other than to demonstrate the level of stupidity my father and I are willing to explore I present the great reenactment of the greatest day of my life:

If only I coulda found my Carrera sunglasses to bring it full circle.

Day 4: Marathon Man

One of my favorite movies is “Marathon Man” with one my all-time favorite moments in film. Considering that you’ve probably already seen it…and instead of trying to describe it which will ultimately fail to do it justice please allow me to show it to you in order that i might set the proper mood for this day of my journey:

Now…I’m not going to sit here and tell you that driving mindlessly across the vast expanse of this great country from Denver through Eastern Colorado...

Through Nebraska...

Through Iowa...

Through Illinois (no photo avalable but this one from Iowa should do)...

...while it mercilessly sleeted on me and my icicle laden precious and while the temperature hovered around freezing on a day in which the sky and earth looked like super-creaminated coffee was akin to being tortured by a Nazi war criminal or anything.

Nay...I was being tortured by the collective spirit of all these square-state persons who are pissed at me for living in Los Angeles with access to medical marijuana. I could feel them pointing and glaring as I snugged up with my precious...foot frozen to the throttle. Now everyone is staring at precious wishing to relieve me of the burden...but We swears to protect you precioussss. Sauron's orcs would do anything to get their hands on you precioussss...Yess, wretched we are, precious but WE won't let you go!

Here's the last guy I met before entering Mordor:

Eastern Coloradoan: Is it safe?

Me: Sure…it’s safe why wouldn’t it be? I’m keeping it under 120 MPH today due to the sleet.

Nebraskan: Is it safe?

Me: Ah…no…it’s very dangerous perhaps I should not be out here partaking in "The Good Life" as you have promised upon entry to your lovely state…can I go?

Iowan: Is it safe?

Me: Um…ok…it’s clearly not safe and now i'm hallucinating that i'm on Dancing with the Stars as Belinda Carlisle's professional dance partner and I can only dance slightly better than Piero. I must be a fool for putting myself through this today. I promise I’ll neve drive 14 hours through sleet and Des Moines again.

After about 950 of the 1022 total miles driven today (with Cabaret Voltaire playing for the duration of course) I began to imagine how nice it might be to be sitting in the chair with Szell standing over me.

So…today’s trip was not without it’s amazing moments I must admit. One scene worth sharing…which I have attempted to capture on video but which was nearly impossible to grab on my tiny flip video camera whilst driving was this:

Since it’s hard to see let me just tell you how amazing it was to witness the horizon swarming with migrating birds heading northwest in formation waves. There must have been 10 miles of this with hundreds of waves with what I can only guess included millions upon millions of birds trying to get away too.

The other scene that woke me up a bit was this giant blade from a wind farm being transported on interstate 80. I've only seen wind farms from far away so the real scope of these behemoths became apparent when I passed this oversized load in Iowa. A short time later I came upon the wind farm itself and used this as yet another excuse to go pee pee and photograph my preciousss with something cool in the background.

After arriving in Schaumburg (my Dad's hood in suburban Chicago) around midnight and checking into the "Wyndham Crapola Hotel" I kindly requested my drinking partner to come over to share a celebratory drink. We had a few swigs of the 1942 and proceeded to watch some senior citizen neighbors dance until about 3am. I really wish i had a zoom on this thing to have properly shared this moment with you because it was a capper to a day beyond compare.

I really am starting to lose it here (Seamus---queue up the scene from Marathon Man where he's running for his life)