In the last couple of years, we've flown to New York, London, Rome, Paris, Madrid, Buenos Aires, Chicago, and several other cities, but all those have merely been a warm-up for the ultimate trip: tomorrow we drive to Cincinnati, Ohio.
In my life B.T. (Before Terri) I relished the catharsis of long road trips. My first long drive was with some friends from Houston to San Francisco in the summer of 1967 in an un-airconditioned Chevy Impala station wagon. I still remember crossing the Bay Bridge from Oakland with all the car windows open, still in a daze from the Mojave and driving up the Central Valley on 99, feeling the first hint of cold ocean air that quickly dried out a thousand miles of desert sweat and grime.
After that came more drives to the West, back to San Francisco, to Los Angeles, through Wyoming and Utah to Seattle and Oregon, either alone or with a friend. My last long drive was in 1996, a solo trip in my Mazda 323 hatchback from Austin up I-35 to Duluth and on to Thunder Bay, Ontario. I left at 7 one evening and arrived for breakfast 30-odd hours later. Along the way, somewhere in Iowa, I remember entering a trance-like state as the noise of tires on the cracked pavement -- ta thump, ta thump, ta ta thump ta -- became a concert of minimalist music.
These road trips have no allure for Terri. The longest we've driven together was from Austin to South Padre Island, so this will be a new experience for her. As for myself, I am older now and perhaps no longer have the stamina and focus needed for cross-country trips. No more driving through the night, no more stopping at a rest area for a 30-minute nap in the back seat. Although this trip is less than 1,000 miles, Terri insists that we will stop along the way; she already knows where the Hampton Inns are located.
Most importantly, I at last go on a road trip in a car with cruise control.
