I just returned from a car ride that took a total of ten hours and about six hundred miles to complete. Some people do that in an RV all the time, but I’m not an RV person. I just sat down in my typical vanilla four-door gas-powered vehicle, with a bottle of beverage and the directions by my side, and headed out early in the morning.
I was reminded of Tom Hanks’ character in the movie The Terminal. He traveled to New York from a foreign country, simply to obtain an autograph, but ended up spending months trapped at the airport because his home country lost its international recognition status due to a political coup. Even though I was only traveling through another state, my purpose was similar: I was going to a gift shop for a specific purchase, and I had no expectations of being detained or prevented going home again. Still, some people would find that frivolous. I call it adventure.
The drive was one of the most pleasant I’ve had in forty years. The early fall foliage met my view every hour, with barely cloudy skies and the sun at my back. I went through four mountain tunnels, saw plenty of cattle, goats, horses and deer, and huge stretches of nothing but farm country and bucolic barns and silos dotting the background. I drank when my ears popped, shifted in the seat at least twice an hour, and stayed away from the rest areas except for the one time I had to fuel up.
The only major hiccup I experienced was the act of having to pump my own gas, being from a full service region. Still I managed, after figuring out not reading the directions on the pump was the way to go. It was also unusual to not need a toll road ticket. Apparently the cameras captured my vehicle plates and they’ll bill me. That will not be a surprise I look forward to in the mail, because I figured it out, and the cost was the equivalent of something else I could have bought at the gift shop.
Still, the visit was worth every cent, especially since using the toll road took an hour or more from my drive time. I drove up one winding road and down another and came upon my destination, tucked neatly into the mountainous middle of nowhere, and I was met by friendly people who remembered I had called the week before and were happy to see me. I’m not even the furthest-traveled, I learned, because some folks came from two states away to visit regularly.
That’s when you know you’re from a dedicated group of people.
So it’s a day later and I’m tired and behind on most of my usual weekend projects. My plan is to reward my car with an oil change, and to not drive more than ten miles the rest of the week.
I wonder it it would be worth trying a non-toll road for the next excursion?
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