Middlebury Magazine

  • Recent Stories
  • Menu
    • Features
    • Pursuits
    • Q&A
    • Editor’s Note
    • Old Chapel
    • Road Taken
    • Review
    • Podcasts
    • Videos
    • How Did You Get Here Series
    • About
    • Advertising
    • Contact
    • Support
    • Writers’ Guidelines
  • Search

Summer 2020 Features

My COVID Road Trip

With their mother ailing, a writer and his brother hit the road for a cross country trek as a pandemic takes hold across the country.

By Charlie Tercek ’83
September 11, 2020
  • Facebook icon
  • Twitter icon
  • Email icon

As I buckled my seat belt and turned the ignition, my mind was racing. Would our drive from the West Coast to northeastern Ohio in the midst of a global pandemic be safe? Or were we playing with fire? Armed with enough masks, wipes, and hand sanitizer to make my neighborhood Costco jealous, we crossed our fingers and hit the road.

Over the Fourth of July weekend, my brother Mark received a call from our mother’s doctor. Mom is in her 90s, suffers from dementia, and lives in an assisted living facility in Hudson, Ohio. The doctor had grim news: she was having an increasingly difficult time breathing, and he recommended she begin hospice care.

Mark shared this with me and our three other brothers on a Zoom call. Though we had grown up in Cleveland, the five of us were now spread out across the country. In normal conditions, our next step would be clear: we’d hang up the phone, head to our respective airports, and rendezvous in Ohio. But because of the pandemic, and the fact that a few of us have health issues of our own, we weren’t sure how to proceed. Mom’s nursing home had been in lockdown since March. Would it be a health risk to visit her there? Would we even be let in? And was it possible for us to travel across the country without getting infected? All we knew was we had to do something. We couldn’t let her spend what appeared to be her final days alone.

After a long discussion, and some long silences while we mulled our options, another brother, John, volunteered to drive to Hudson from his home in Phoenix. Flying there seemed too risky. After a pause, I offered to be his copilot.

Who knew what we would discover on our drive? Infection rates were climbing in the Midwest while, according to my social media feed, people there were burning masks in protest. I took a deep breath and packed my bags.

Saturday, 7/11.

John and I hit the road early and wended our way toward Utah and Colorado. A few hours into our drive, in rural Arizona, we made our first stop to answer nature’s—and caffeine’s—call. As we adjusted our face masks in a Starbucks parking lot, we wondered aloud what kind of reaction we’d get from the anti-maskers who no doubt awaited us inside. To our pleasant surprise, all of the baristas and most of the customers had their faces covered, too. Frustratingly, however, the restrooms were closed. Same with the fast food joint and gas station across the street. Though I understood the logic, it put travelers like us in what you could call an uncomfortable situation. With a shrug and a quick look over our shoulders, we relieved ourselves behind a dumpster in the corner of the parking lot. I’m not proud of what we did, but there didn’t seem to be much choice.

For lunch, a few hours later, we stopped at a Subway in rural Utah. Though it’s a red state—as the big display stand of MAGA hats near the cash register made clear—the folks behind the counter were masked up, and the restaurant’s seating area was closed off with yellow tape. (The restrooms, thank the good Lord, were open.)

Driving cross-country entails stopping fairly often at gas stations. And gas pumps, of course, get touched by a lot of different hands in a day. The thing is, the coronavirus can linger on metal and plastic for up to 72 hours. The bottom line: gassing up during a pandemic can be a harrowing experience. So, through the course of our trip, John and I became adept at what we came to call the “gas station ballet.” Step 1: Grab a few napkins from our stash in the glove compartment. Step 2: Wrap the napkin around the gas pump handle so your fingers don’t touch anything icky. Step 3: Use a second napkin to protect your fingers as you enter your credit card information. Step 4: Discard the napkins and douse your hands with sanitizer. And if your supply of jerky is running low and you need to visit the gas station convenience store, bring another napkin for the door or, if you’re feeling adventurous, try opening it with your knee or elbow.

Sunday, 7/12.

Early the next morning, we departed Boulder and headed toward St. Louis. The drive, like the Kansas landscape out our windows, was uneventful, though we were unnerved to discover that all of the McDonald’s along our route were closed. What did Mickey D know that the Burger King didn’t? We were in the heart of Trump country now, but at every rest stop we visited, all of the employees and most of the customers had their faces covered. Not a mask-burning ceremony in sight. I began to wonder about the quality of news I’d been receiving in my Southern Californian bubble and made a note to close my Facebook account.

For dinner, we visited a barbecue joint in Topeka. A man can eat only so many Subway salads, right? Though we had been taking all of our meals in our Honda up to this point, bolting ribs behind the wheel seemed like a bad idea. The problem? Almost none of the diners inside were wearing masks. We mulled the risk and reward of our situation for a minute until John brought us to our senses. “Screw it. That pulled pork smells delicious.”

We spent the night at a motel just off the highway in rural Missouri. Though the clerk behind the front desk was maskless, he assured us that the motel and our room were clean. I didn’t know how to interpret this dichotomy, but it was after 10:00 and we were too exhausted to worry.

Monday, 7/13.

Today’s goal: Hudson, Ohio, where our Mom lived. It was a Monday, and Route 70 was packed with semitrucks as we wended our way through Missouri and Indiana. Once again, most restaurants along the highway were closed, the exception being Arby’s, of all places. I don’t know about you, but my lips hadn’t touched Horsey Sauce since 1983. A trip like ours, clearly, would be tough for vegans.

That evening, we finally crossed the border into Ohio, and the landscape surrounding us transformed. Instead of mile after mile of flat farmland, we found ourselves in a lush forest with green, rolling hills. Dayton and Columbus, in contrast to St. Louis, Topeka, and Kansas City, seemed to sparkle with energy and optimism. It felt good to be back in our home state.

Tuesday, 7/14. Finally, we made our way to our mother’s assisted living facility. As we turned onto the long driveway to its main building, we encountered something unexpected: a homemade roadblock, like you’d see in a Mad Max movie. Gulp. Suppose the guard wouldn’t let us in, and our drive—all 2,000 miles of it—had been futile? Happily, when we introduced ourselves to him and explained our presence, he smiled, raised his gate, and let us pass.

That good news was a harbinger of what awaited us inside. The nursing home was clean and buttoned up, and everyone seemed healthy—and Mom was no exception. Though her doctor had been right and something was definitely up with her breathing, she seemed more focused than usual and ate like a horse. Conclusion: she might be in hospice care, but she wasn’t going anywhere soon.

So what did I learn from my three days on the road? The overwhelming majority of people I encountered were wearing masks, were practicing social distancing, and had plenty of hand sanitizer available. Though most of them probably vote Republican, they seemed willing to rise above the politicization of the pandemic and do what’s right. At least, that’s how I chose to interpret things. It’s been a tough year for all of us—the toughest I’ve ever encountered—but this insight gave me hope that maybe there’s a light at the end of this tunnel after all.

Best of all, we were with our mom, and she was doing much better than we had anticipated. After a long and tense trip, we felt like we could finally relax. But not too much—because in just a few days, we’d be getting back in our car and doing it again.

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

You must be logged in to post a comment.

Recent Stories

Features

Reverberations

A transcontinental move, a career discovered, a landmark speech studied and translated—and an identity reshaped.

By Clara Clymer, MA Translation '22
Illustration by Anna Gusella
April 2, 2022

The Road(s)

A little over a year ago, a writing student headed south to Florida for no other reason than J-Term was forced to go remote. She soon found herself reporting on an environmental justice battle that was roiling the state.

By Alexandra Burns '21.5
Illustrations by Yevgenia Nayberg
March 2, 2022

Cult Fiction

With absurdist, yet endearing dramedies dominating popular culture, a couple of recent Midd grads have added a new title to the canon with the wonderful Youtube series The Deli People.

By Sara Thurber Marshall
Photographs courtesy of L.T. Stenello Productions
February 4, 2022
Abstract illustration of a person with correspondence letters floating in the wind surrounding them.

Dear Friends . . .

On writing through grief.

By Bianca Giaever ’12.5
Illustration by Nicole Xu. Photographs by Paul Dahm
May 11, 2021

Dispatches

It’s a New Day at the Museum of Art

Reimagining what an art museum can and should be.

By Jessie Raymond '90
Art courtesy of the Middlebury College Museum of Art
June 30, 2022

First Aid

Their projects span the globe—from Kenya to Haiti to the United States. As the 2021-22 academic year came to a close, a cohort of students gathered to discuss what having a social impact really means.

By Sara Thurber Marshall
Illustration by Brian Stauffer
June 28, 2022

The Case of the Purloined Onions

Onions have been disappearing from Middlebury's garden. Now, a team of undergraduate sleuths are honing in on a lineup of suspects.

By Andrew Cassel
Illustration by Naomi Ann Clarke
June 21, 2022

Sonic Art

What began as an attempt by Matthew Evan Taylor to collaborate with fellow musicians during the isolation of the pandemic ended up being a yearlong project that culminated in an evening performance at the Met.

By Sara Thurber Marshall
Photograph by Josiah Bania
April 15, 2022

Poetry, In Exile

After fleeing civil unrest in her native Venezuela, a Middlebury Institute graduate student turned to poetry to help make sense of it all.

By Jessie Raymond '90
Illustrations by Anonymous
January 21, 2022

Inside the Ant Chamber

A visit to a Bi Hall lab affords an up-close encounter with an extremely social cohort of insects.

By Jessie Raymond '90
Photograph by Clint Penick
November 12, 2021

Twenty Minutes, Twenty Years

Reflections on 9/11 as a New Yorker and Muslim American.

By Daleelah Saleh '23
Illustration by Davide Bonazzi
September 23, 2021

It’s in the Wash

Moyara Ruehsen separates fact from creative fiction in the world of criminal finance.

By Jessie Raymond '90
Photograph by Elena Zhukova
September 9, 2021

From Stage to Screen

Doug Anderson has plenty of experience directing opera. But with his latest production, he faced new and unusual challenges.

By Sara Thurber Marshall
Photograph by Erica Furgiuele
September 2, 2021
View All

Pursuits

Public Defender

On becoming one of the country's foremost cybersecurity experts.

By Jessie Raymond '90
Illustration by Neil Webb
April 14, 2022

Q&A

The Making of a Teacher

Hebrew Professor Michal Strier reflects on her life an education—in Israel and the States—a journey that led the Language School instructor to the undergraduate College for the first time this year.

By Jessie Raymond '90
Photograph by Paul Dahm
May 19, 2022

Editor’s Note

A Brilliant Fogg

Saying goodbye to a dear colleague and friend.

By Matt Jennings
Illustration by Jody Hewgill
February 25, 2020

Old Chapel

Wired for Service

Examining the myriad ways Middlebury students and alumni continue to engage in an enduring tradition: giving back to others.

By Laurie L. Patton
Illustration by Montse Bernal
November 11, 2021

Road Taken

What to Wear Now

Through accrued life experiences, a writer discovers that a common question has become a statement of identity.

By Samantha Hubbard Shanley ’99
Illustration by Naomi Clarke
March 11, 2021

Quotation

A summer immersed in a language can do wonders, as veterans of Middlebury College’s famous language-learning program can attest. The lockdown is clearly going to amount to the equivalent of about two summers, and there are mini-Middleburys happening in millions of houses worldwide.”

—John McWhorter, writing “The Coronavirus Generation Will Use Language Differently” in the Atlantic.

Podcasts

Alone Together, Ep. 9 with Jessica St. Clair ’98 and Dan O’Brien ’96

Dan O'Brien ’96, a playwright and poet, and Jessica St. Clair ’98, a comedian and writer, join President Patton for our final check in with the community during COVID-19 self-isolation. Dan and Jessica are a true power couple in the arts that met in a Middlebury improv group. They discuss Dan's magazine essay "Life Shrinks: Lessons from Chemo Quarantine," how reopening the country feels a lot like remission, and how their art is evolving to reflect the pandemic.

By Middlebury Magazine Staff
June 15, 2020

Alone Together, Ep. 8 with Dick Clay, Covid-19 Survivor

In this episode, Dick Clay, a student at the Bread Loaf School of English, shares his story of recovering from COVID-19. Dick discusses when the seriousness of the virus hit him, the "wilderness path to recovery," and how he will process this experience through writing.

By Middlebury Magazine Staff
June 8, 2020

Alone Together, Ep. 7 with Jodie Keith and Jacque Bergevin, Essential Workers

In this episode, we hear from Jodie Keith and Jacque Bergevin, who have been working with custodial services to keep our Vermont campus safe and clean. Jodie and Jacque share what campus has been like since the students left: what it's like to schedule hourly sanitation of buildings, how every day feels like an empty Saturday morning, and that the infamous Middlebury squirrels have lost a bit of weight.

By Middlebury Magazine Staff
Photography by Bob Handelman
June 1, 2020

Review

One Life’s Journey

Accomplished poet Robert Pack reflects on his life in his new book of poetry.

By Susan Fritsch Hunter ’71
Photography from Event Horizon Telescope: Hotaka Shiokawa
June 2, 2022

How Did You Get Here?

Megan Job

By Alexandra Burns '21
February 15, 2021

Leif Taranta

By Alexandra Burns '21
February 15, 2021

Mikayla Haefele

By Alexandra Burns '21
February 15, 2021

Videos

Pomp and Unusual Circumstances

As viewed from above.

By Chris Spencer
June 1, 2021

Davis the Owl Returns Home

Having recovered from life-threatening injuries, a beautiful winged creature is released to its natural habitat.

By Andrew Cassell
April 22, 2021

In the Blink of an Eye

Gone in less than a minute—the middle of June 2019 to the middle of June 2020, as viewed from the rooftop of the Mittelman Observatory.

By Middlebury Magazine Staff
Video by Jonathan Kemp/Mittelman Observatory
June 10, 2020
Middlebury College
  • Alumni
  • Newsroom
  • Contact Us
  • icon-instagram

The views presented are not necessarily those of the editors or the official policies of the College.

© 2022 Middlebury College Publications.