Reflections In The Rear-view

I love to drive. Always have. Even before I could drive, I loved to ride.  I always wanted to go somewhere. My Daddy used to say that my middle name was Go.  When I was in my late teens/early twenties, I would take off and drive around on Lookout Mountain just to pass the time.  When I was 26, 1993, my career as a road warrior began.   From that year on, I have averaged about 30,000 miles a year.  I spent four years pretty much constantly on the road in Tennessee, Georgia and Alabama.  For the last 17 years I have come to know the state of Florida like an old friend.  

Saw a t-shirt on a guy in a bar recently that read, "If life is a book, those who don't travel only read one page."  Over the last month I had the opportunity to read a lot of pages.  The circumstances of the trip are unfortunate, but always one to try and make the best of things, find the silver linings and all that, driving from Key Largo FL to Boston Mass was quite an experience.  I saw the most beautiful scenery; majestic mountains, valleys that belonged in paintings, picturesque towns, and I even got to make a side trip to the rugged coastline of north-eastern Massachusetts.  In all it was almost 23 days from the morning I locked up my house and got in my Pilot with husband and cat, loaded up with a couple months worth of provisions, to the night I unlocked that same door, all alone, and unloaded my measly 2 suitcases, and the guitar.  The Taylor was my traveling companion to avoid shipping trauma later on.

3,893.5 miles, and 12 states, in 23 days.  The first 2,000 miles or so were with company and shared driving, and broken up in a week plus of travel. The last 1,700 miles were done in 3 solid days, 27 hours, of nothing but driving alone.  I tried the books on tape/disc years ago, but it's just not me. When Scott and I drive together, we read a book aloud (lately the Odd Thomas series,) and I'm good with that.  But, when I'm alone, I prefer to listen to music and sing.  I sing for hours and hours.  I stare out a windshield and into a rear-view mirror, and I sing.

The drive up through Florida and Georgia to Chattanooga is one I could almost do in my sleep.  I swear I know every bump in the road on I-75 through Georgia.  Driving east through Tennessee was very familiar even though it had been a while.  I've spent a lot of time around Knoxville and in the Smokey's, and used to drive up I-81 and spend a lot of time working in Morristown TN, and occasionally worked up in Johnson City and Bristol Tennessee.  But, on this trip I stayed on 81 all the way to Pennsylvania.  In Scranton PA, the road turned east on I-84, across the length of PA, a portion of New York and Connecticut, where I picked up I-90, the Mass Pike all the way to Boston.  When I left Boston to head home, I will admit that I was a great big bak bak chicken and didn't take the suggested quickest route straight down I-95 because it would have taken me right through the heart of NYC, Philly, and DC.  It wasn't really the size of the cities or the traffic or worry about my safety or any of that really, just simple laziness.  I didn't want to have to worry about navigation that much.  If backed in a corner, I would admit that with all the worry and the dislocation, I don't feel my sharpest.  And, I am not in a position to take any chances with my own self...can't afford for something to happen to me.  I'm needed.  So, I took the easy interstate only way, back across PA on 84, down through VA on 81, then cut over to Richmond on 64 and picked up 95 which took me most of the way home.  Only added about 2 hours to the overall trip... 25 vs 27 hours, really, what difference does it make?

Virginia is the most beautiful state I have been in.  And, believe me, I'm pretty partial to Georgia and Tennessee.  But VA was breathtaking.  I wasn't in West VA or Maryland long, but what I saw was nice, I kept thinking that the people who live there have that incredible mountainscape in the distance every time they walk out their front door.  I know it's like that when people imagine what it must be like for me to see the ocean every time I walk out my door.  It's always been a toss up for me.  I miss the mountains so much, but I think I would miss the ocean more.

Pennsylvania was quite lovely itself.  But, I have to say, PA has the worst roads.  Period.  There was one section east of Scranton when I thought the front end might fall off my car, it was shaking so much from the rough pavement.  And I saw more dead deer per square mile than I have seen in my life.  I was pretty paranoid.  I know how those Pennsylvania deer stake out innocent travelers and strike when least expected.

Another interesting observation made in traveling the width of the country was the courtesy or lack thereof in different geographic latitudes.  Several years ago, we drove to Chicago.  I remember a moment on the road when I was amazed that when presented with a sign announcing the left lane was closed in 2 miles, every single motorist immediately got over into the right lane.  Not one car sped up through the left and forced their way in at the last minute.  I remember that I just didn't know what to think about that.  

Over the last month, I really hadn't given too much thought to the traffic, but on deeper reflection, I realized I hadn't really cussed at other drivers in a while.  (All of this narrative excludes Boston.  Boston traffic is a phenomenon unto itself and by far, bar none, the worst drivers, worst traffic I have ever seen.)  But other than Boston, I have found northern drivers to be courteous, rule abiding and refreshing.  All that shit about southern hospitality, it clearly doesn't apply to the road.  It wasn't until somewhere in North Carolina that I found myself cursing another driver, and it actually surprised me because it had been so long since I had been pissed on the road.  It got steadily worse the further south I drove.  But, I am here to testify, loudly and with no coercion or prejudice, that Florida drivers are the rudest I have ever encountered.  Hands down. Period.

Next week I will need to travel to some Florida towns to visit clients, and I will be ready to drive again by then. At the end of the month, I will return to Boston, but it will be (literally) planes, trains and automobiles, and I won't be driving any of them.  Mass transit is the only way to go in Boston.  But I still love to drive and always will.  My Daddy knows me, Go is still my middle name.