Are We There Yet?

 

The other day I heard someone giving directions and wondered? The explanation to get to a certain destination was to travel down I-95 for about 22 minutes and turn off to the 250 until you see the 141.

Now that make sense to some of you, but to me it is all ‘Greek’. Without a fossil fueled metal mobile machine very little of the transportation infrastructure do I understand without Google Maps.

For example: A few days ago I was attempting to cross-town to the north side to deliver a bag of books. I knew a few routes and headed for one, but there was construction underway. A detour to another path but after a few miles couldn’t find a connection to a side street. After a few hours of looking for a way out, I returned home and asked the person pick up the donation with a mobile machine. Even with all the new bike lanes, sometimes you just can’t get there.

Back in the days when the family would travel south for a week vacation during the summer, the folded paper map was our guide. Even thought the massive mass of concrete highway network hadn’t been built yet, the few two lanes had to make the correct turnoff of travel for more hours than the day on the road we endured.

Dad always drove. If it was the Nash Rambler or the Ford Fairlane or the Ford Country Squire station wagon, he always drove the miles down south and a week later back again. The AM radio was no entertainment because the local signal wasn’t strong enough and would fade away. We entertained ourselves by singing some old church songs or playing Mad Libs. If we needed to relieve ourselves, dad would pull over to the side of the road and we would just do our business, then climb back in the car and continue on. There was no fast food stops so we ate whatever sandwiches mom made for us before the trip. The choices were slice cheese with relish or peanut butter on Nolde white bread. No chips. No cookies. No bottled water. No fruit juice boxes. Whatever we drank came out of a thermos. For hours with the windows rolled down we had to entertain ourselves with what was passing by. When we hit the North Caroline the roads got smoother. There was the share croppers shacks with colored folks rocking on the porch with no electricity, radio, television and a small plot of land behind to work the watch the cars drive by. There were chain gangs in their striped uniforms digging on the side of the road under the watchful eye of a white man with a big gun. There were army convoys with long lines of trucks carry guys in green uniforms and bucket helmets going from one place to another but there was no war over here. On a two-lane highway there was no possibility of passing so like a good patriot you just waited. The few townships we passed through were just a blur. On the necessary occasion, we would pull off the pavement to get a refreshment of gas and maybe a soda and a moon pie.

I was a bouncer. I could sit in the back seat and bounce for hours. (Note: pre-lap restraints) I must have driven everyone else nuts, but I just had to bounce. The only time I’d stop is when I’d hide under the seat when we passed the Indian reservation.

I enjoyed road trips (when I was a co-pilot). Buses were available travel for a few miles but it was cramp, still the price was right for a weekend of fun in college. The train had a certain rhythm to it with more room to stretch out. Small boats were fine but larger boats made me think Titanic. Small airplanes were to close to open air, but even the large planes were off the ground and out of control.

If I want to go anywhere out of my 5-mile radius, I’ve got to choose one of these options because I won’t buy an automobile.

The question of the day is ‘when are we there?’

What is your destination and reason for exploration? Did you find what you were looking for? Was it worth the trip?

Be worried if out of the back of a hearse you hear:

“Are We There Yet?”