Road Fever

Where is the summer going? Technically we’re only a third of the way through it, but it seems like it’s moving quickly. It wasn’t until the Fourth of July that I even realized it was summertime. That’s a far cry from my college and law school days, when the summer essentially began in the middle of May. Now here it is, almost the end of July; I’m trying to hold onto the days, but they seem to be slipping through my fingers like sand. I haven’t scheduled any vacation time, but now I wonder if maybe I should; it would be nice to spend a week at the beach or something. I think back to my childhood, when my family would go down to Long Beach Island on the Jersey shore for a couple of weeks and lie on the beach during the day and go to seafood restaurants at night. (Who am I kidding — I spent most of the day inside.) Or the summer we drove all the way down to Disney World, or up to Cape Cod. I miss family trips. I miss car trips.

Summer really is the time to drive on the all-American highway. Ever since I read The Majic Bus, the idea of hopping into a car and driving off to places unknown has made my heart race. It’s weird that even though I lived overseas for three years, the most exciting trip for me is the one that doesn’t require a passport. I don’t agree with House Majority Leader Dick Armey, who said idiotically, “I’ve been to Europe once. I don’t have to go again.” On the other hand, there really is so much to see here in the good old U.S. of A. Staring through your windshield as mile after mile of asphalt rushes underneath you… what a great way to escape yourself, to be rootless and identityless and placeless and timeless. It’s something that seems so impossible in the age of the Internet. Can you really escape when all your friends and your hometown newspaper are just a mouse-click away?

It’s funny — I’ve almost finished re-reading The Lord of the Rings, and that’s the story of the ultimate road trip. Characters leave home… go on long journey… visit unexplored places… meet Elves and Ents and Orcs… come home completely changed. When I was a kid I used to imagine myself like Frodo — walking up to the top of our street, turning left, and disappearing into the wide, wide world.

I love road trips. There was the time my friend and I took a spontaneous overnight trip from Charlottesville, Virginia to Gettysburg and Reading, Pennsylvania. There was the day I decided to drive from northern New Jersey up to Boston — just for the afternoon. And then there was the summer I drove out to Colorado by myself to visit a friend of mine for a couple of weeks. Drove clear across the states of Iowa and Nebraska, and on the way home drove straight across Kansas and Missouri. The United States is blessed with miles of empty land.

I think I need to hit the road again at some point. In the meantime, maybe I’ll make my own U.S. highway signs (this is cool as hell). Maybe I’ll watch some road movies (“Thelma and Louise”, anyone?). Or read up on the history of the interstate highway system. Or check out some interstate highway trivia.

There’s also Road Trip America, founded by a couple with a fantastic story. Their house burned down in 1993, and they lost all their stuff and wound up hitting the road — and staying there — in this. Imagine losing everything you own… scary but liberating, no? If there were a fire and I could grab only one thing, it would be my handwritten journals. My writing. My words.

Finally, there’s the National Scenic Byways Program, run by the Federal Highway Administration in the U.S. Department of Transportation. (Don’t forget — Dubya’s cabinet is politically diverse, thanks to Transportation Secretary Norman Mineta, a Democrat. Now that’s bipartisanship! Thanks, Dubya!)

I’m thinking it would be really cool to rent a car and take a big road trip across the country, pledging to stay each night with a different person who reads my blog. Bloggin’ my way across America, day by day, taking pictures, writing up my travels, meeting different people… that would be kinda cool. Of course, I have no idea where most of you live, so the pledge might be hard to fulfill.

Anyway… just an idea.