Pilots and Passengers

How do y'all feel about road trips? I think there is no middle ground here. You either are all in or all out. There actually are a variety of ways to be all in or all out.

I have taken two, or four, in the last 9 days so we're going to have us a little chat about that.

The first roundtrip was a solo 16 hours in the car. It involved Lots of thinking. Lots. Speeding (just a little.) Talking. To myself. Minimal eating. A very wide playlist. Wide. Metallica. Adele. George. Journey. Celine. Reba. Firehouse. Bon Jovi. Penrod. Nailed it. As you readers well know, singing is my best God given gift.

Driving and service centers breakdown:

It would appear we generally have pilots without a cause. A task has been accepted but the mission is unclear. When we're in the car. It's time to go. The same applies to the rest stop. When we get out of our vehicles, it's go time for potty break. It's the same playing field and I expect your full attention in both. Unfortunately. I seemed to follow the same friends all day. They drive and walk like it's Sunday. I mean it was on one of the days, but whatever. I am all about the business on solo trips, no deviation, no open mind, no stopping unless it's required; therefore, please step aside to the slow potty lane or we will have some trouble. I have set the timer and I have three minutes to get back on the Thruway.

Basically my concern(s) on a solo trip are, get to the destination as quickly as possible - going or coming.

I'm all in.

On the flip side you have the family trip or the "plus one" experience.

"How about taking the scenic route?"

........

Hum.

Scenic route?

Is there a way to graciously decline?

"How about on the way back?"

Well. Friends. The "way back" eventually comes around... And the "way back," like the camping rain, encodes and stores in distinct patterns along the neural pathway in the brain, and will create permanent and best memories.

I love scenes. I love to see the ocean. And sunsets. And gardens. And trees. And mountains.

I would love to love the scenic routes. But I have been cursed. I cannot handle the attractive twisty and winding ways. They so clearly lead to destruction, which is why I have no trouble sticking to the straight and narrow way that leads home.

So on the way back today....we took the scenic route.

And technology might not be exactly where we want it yet. (A wise person tells me that on occasion.) As we headed off the freeway, my heart sank a little, but GPS had a grand plan in mind for these New Yorkers. It was quite beautiful. The sun was shining, clear blue skies and minimal traffic. We drove and drove. As the miles passed, I leaned my seat back a little farther. And a little farther. My concern grew when the chief navigator missed the appropriate road. This can't be good. As we turn around, we miss it again.

Wait.

I see it, a teeny white sign that says

Route 70 ---->

Um.

....

No.

We follow the directions, which pleases Ms. GPS, and immediately begin heading up a ridge. In half a mile we are on a gravel road going 25 mph.

.....

This is our life for the next 45 minutes. Driving up. Driving down. Driving around. And around. Past cows. Ponds. Tractors. Trees. Countryside. Horses.

"This is beautiful country."

My chair is almost completely flat and I'm inwardly, maybe outwardly, groaning.

"This really is a beautiful drive."

What I learned, friends, is that if you want to hide a body, head to Pennsylvania. Cause cain't no lawman even find you. All you might see is a pick-up truck with New York plates, down "Heck Of A Long Drive Rd" (seriously), and me laying next to a gorgeous barn vomiting in the amber waves of grain.

"Okay, Babe, we're heading back to civilization. Route 14 is coming up."

Well. Ha. Route 70 was a gravel road so I'm not feeling super confident but I could use a spot of faith, so lead on...

Soon. Indeed. We're back.

And we have to ask our GPS friend to get us to a place for eating. Upon arrival, I order five things to Ryan's two. Hey, don't judge me, I almost vanished without a trace in the outback this morning.

Now. Comparatively.

Solo trip - no eating, no deviation. Nothing to make the trip particularly memorable.

The "plus one" experience. Nausea. Views. Laughs. Eating. The perfect recipe for memory.

I'm all in.

I'll be your "plus one" whenever I can.

And I won't make you hold my hair back.