A/N: S. E. Hinton owns all rights to the characters in The Outsiders and her other stories, I only own my imagination. This was inspired by the Simon & Garfunkel song America. I really love their music, if you couldn't tell. Enjoy! Essays of E. B. White are the intellectual property of E. B. White, and The Lone Ranger is owned by ABC.

Cathy and I had only been married for a month, or so, when the idea of a road trip was brought up. "I think it'd be fun. There are so many places we haven't seen yet, and we could both use a vacation from our vacation." She said, looking up from a travel magazine.

"How long would it be?" I stirred too much sugar into my coffee.

"Oh, I don't know, but we should be back by the beginning of August. Maybe we could take the Greyhound. Wouldn't that be fun?"

"I think it's a very interesting idea, sure, but where'll we start? We've basically seen Oklahoma backwards and forwards."

"Let's go to California and take the Pacific Coast Highway. I'd love to see a different ocean."

So, we bought bus tickets to California. The bus was packed; I'd never ridden in a Greyhound before, but Cathy seemed right at home, and she nearly bounced up and down when we departed the station. "I'm so excited, I can't wait to see the ocean!" She reminded me of a little kid going to the zoo for the first time, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"It'll take a while to get there, Cath, relax. Here, this'll calm you down." I handed her a cigarette, though I'd mainly been speaking to myself when telling her to simmer down. This was gonna be one long ride, if the babies crying in the back had any say in it. I lit up my own cigarette, and amused myself by silently watching the smoke curl in the sunlight. I'd picked up the habit from Soda, since that was most all he did after coming home from 'Nam, when he wasn't drinking.

"Have you ever seen the ocean, Pony?"

"No, but I've always imagined it to be beautiful."

"The closest I've ever come was the Gulf of Mexico, but I don't think that counts." She flicked some ash onto my jeans.

"Why not?" I pushed the ash tray between us, knowing that she'd done it on purpose.

"It's too warm and smells like dead fish. There's no way I'd call that an ocean. It's like stepping into salty bathwater."

"Where d'you wanna go after we see the real ocean, Cath?"

"Maybe we could go to the Midwest, then the East coast. I wanna go everywhere. We could even switch to a train after we get to Bellingham, so we can see the prairie."

"You have this all planned out, don't you?" It was more a statement than a question.

"I've had this planned out since before the wedding. I've always wanted to look for America."

I settled back in my seat, just listening as Cathy waxed poetic about road trips with as much detail as Ernie Pyle and Jack Kerouac. I loved hearing her talk; she could go on for hours and I'd never get bored. I didn't even crack open a single book I'd brought until we hit Amarillo at lunchtime. "I can't believe how exhausting just sitting in one spot can be." I remarked, stretching as I tried to pop my back.

"I think those kids behind us gave me a headache. I feel bad for their mom; she looked like she could use a nap."

"They kept kicking my chair, but I really didn't wanna say anything. She was at the end of her rope, and I didn't feel like making a scene." I handed Cathy the bottle of aspirin I'd packed in my bag. "You can take up to four of these."

"Thanks, hon. Man, this greasy-spoon sure lives up to its name, huh."

"Yeah. There's no way this much peanut oil should ever be on fries." I held one up to the light, smirking as it glistened, drenched in oil and salt.

"At least the burgers are good. I'm stealing this fry." She edged the longest fry out from under the pile, working a little to get it unstuck from the paper.

"The point of stealing anything is to do it and make it look like you didn't. You aren't supposed to tell me about it."

"And you would know?"

"Yeah, I grew up in the rougher part of town, so it was more or less expected. I wasn't as good as Two-Bit, though. He could lift anything for a five-finger discount, and perfected it to an art. Nobody was better than him."

"Is he still that smooth?"

"I would assume so; the war didn't fuck up his sneakiness any. He seems to be the most normal out of all of them, truth be told."

"What's his poison?" I knew what she meant- Steve had drugs and Soda had alcohol, but Two-Bit's was a little easier to cover up.

"Women of the night."

"Does he play it safe?"

"Oh, Hell, no. He's worse'n Steve, honestly. I'm not exactly sure how he's still kicking around those places without many VDs to speak of, but I guess I'll never know."

We boarded the bus again, headed to Roswell. Now, we could look for aliens. "You think they'll stop at some tourist traps while we're there?" Cathy asked, barely able to contain her enthusiasm.

"Most likely. Seriously, I think you need to chill out, Cath. We just got back on the bus, and you're already going full throttle again."

"Oh, you're such a grump, Pony! Have a little fun once in a while, and let your hair down." She playfully swatted me with the Greyhound route map. We had about three or four hours till we got there, so I spread out as much as I could and tried to take a nap. The softly turning pages of Cathy's book lulled me to sleep, my own book barely staying in my hand as I dreamed.

I woke to Cathy violently shaking me. "We're in Roswell! Wake up, sleepyhead!"

"You're way too excited about aliens, Cath. What'd you do with my book?"

"I used it to roll joints."

"Maybe you should smoke some of them. I don't think you mellowed out at all." I flashed her a grin when she brandished my book as a club. I quickly grabbed it from her, then noticed that she'd marked a page with a paperclip. "Did you like it?"

"It was interesting, but I think I prefer my own books. As much as I love poetry, I can't read a whole lot in one sitting."

"I also have Essays of E. B. White, if you'd like to read that instead."

"I think I'll stick with John Gardner, thanks." After a moment, she added, "God, we're such English teachers."

"Did you ever think it'd get this bad?" I joked.

"Nope, but now I know why our students love to hate us."

"They just hate the symbolism witch-hunts, but I can't say I blame them. Wanna stop in at that gift shop?"

"Sure. Are we getting souvenirs for the family?"

"Yeah, why not? Soda'll get a kick outta this." I grabbed a mug with the newspaper article about the UFO sightings printed on it. We got a few more things for everyone else, I got a tie pin, and Cathy got earrings, then we made our way back to our seats. Her energy all spent, Cathy fell asleep with her head against my shoulder. I gave her a light kiss before looking out the window at the desert. Barren landscape stretched out for miles, and cacti popped up every so often, dotting the emptiness like spilled pennies. Sagebrush was plentiful here, too, and I couldn't help wondering if the Lone Ranger was somewhere nearby. I'd never seen so much sky in all my life, nor such a downpour as a sudden storm blew in from the north. It's very lonely here. I thought, wishing we could be in California already.