Driving south to the Badlands, gas tank nearly empty and no sign of any town in sight, the dark became darker than dark for I had driven into the wildest storm I had ever seen. Bolts of lightning, hot pink from the remainder of the sunset, bounced across the road close to me, creating an eerie effect. Frightened, I turned on the radio to make some connection with normal life, but it was not to be. Out of the radio came shrieks and chanting and a sitar-like instrument, most likely Native American music. Whatever it was, I found this to be the perfect accompaniment to what was going on around me. And that's when I realized that this darkness, the weird music, the lightning bouncing all around me and my tension-all these created an adventure, a rush, a high. I felt completely alive. Clutching my steering wheel in a death grip, I was bursting with energy and thrilled with the unknown.____________On August 18, 1998, 72-year-old Jean Seley-mother, grandmother, artist, political and social activist, free spirit and seeker-began another chapter in her life: a first-time, cross-county solo road trip in a recreational vehicle. Inspired by William Least Heat-Moon's Blue Highways and Charles Kuralt's America, Jean set about to explore the land, its people, and herself.With Spencer, her tiny Bichon Frisé, tucked under her arm, Jean set off in "Arvie," a well-used, modestly priced Winnebago, to meet whatever awaited her ahead. Crone on the Road, part travelogue, part memoir, is Jean's account of her two-year travels across the country and back, of the extraordinarily helpful and generous strangers she met and helped her along the way. In between stops were often long stretches of driving solitude that gave Jean plenty of time to reflect on a life uniquely hers, to make self-discoveries even at this stage of life, and to successfully dispense with, once and for all, a lifetime of doubt about the stuff she is made of.