A Good Traveling Companion

"Travel is like life in this, at least,

that a genial companion divides the troubles 

and doubles the joys."

-- Percival Lowell, Atlantic Monthly (Jan. 1891)

"Life" game cars and drivers 6-22-14

"And it came to me then. That we were wonderful traveling companions ... "

-- Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart

I took a road trip to Michigan for my nephew's 11th birthday party yesterday.

It was only a couple of hours' drive, but I didn't feel like making it alone. My husband and Leo had stuff going on, but Sam said he'd tag along if I would drive so that he could ride shotgun and do homework for the summer classes he's taking.

So with our travel mugs brimming with fresh hot coffee, we ventured forth, just we two.

It was a brilliant June day, so we rolled down the windows and opened the sun roof on my little VW Rabbit. I kept the radio to a low murmur so Sam could write his paper. We chatted briefly off and on, now and then, about nothing in particular. We argued with the GPS for taking us on the jankiest route possible. He handed me tissues when I dribbled coffee down my chin.

After the party, which was very nice, we did it all over again.

We stopped at Tim Horton's for fresh hot decaf and donut holes.

It was a brilliant June evening, so we opened the sun roof. I listened to the Indians-Tigers game at a low murmur so he could work on his paper some more. We chatted briefly off and on, now and then, about nothing in particular. We shut off the GPS and trusted our own navigational skills. He handed me bite-sized chunks of donuts.

I remember the very first road trip Sam and I took together.

He was two months old and we were moving from Ohio to Michigan for a two-year stretch. My husband had gone ahead with the movers, so it was just Sam and me in my Chevy pickup truck. It was a brilliant July day. Strapped in beside me in his little car seat, Sam snoozed most of the way. I kept the radio to a low murmur so it wouldn't wake him. I talked to him briefly, off and on, now and then, about nothing in particular. I swabbed his face with tissues when he drooled down his chin.

I remember looking into his sleeping baby face searching for the grown-up man he'd be someday.

These days I catch myself looking into his grown-up face searching for the baby he once was.

Sam got an award at the end of his freshman college year for being the "Most Driven" student in his field of study. I know what they meant -- that he is feverishly pursuing ambitious goals in order to get where he's going as soon as he can.

Personally, I kind of prefer the slower paced manner in which he was driven yesterday -- in the passenger seat, at a more leisurely pace, without his foot on the gas, just along for the ride.

Heated Seats

"Heat, like gravity, penetrates every substance of the universe..."

-- Joseph Fourier, The Analytical Theory of Heat

Orange popsicle, hot cocoa, marshmallows 6-9-14

"We laughed a lot and I grew warmer still,

lovely and warm."

-- Franny Billingsley, Chime

Yesterday was cold and windy, rainy and gray. 

Not what you'd expect almost mid-June.

I was chilled all morning. It was the kind of chill that settled deep in my bones and refused to budge.

Then Sam and I got in my car to drive somewhere for lunch.

My car has heated seats.

We cranked those babies up to high and let 'em toast our backsides all the way there and all the way back.

Heated seats are like a warm, cozy hug from behind, the way they wrap around you and melt away the chill. 

They make a drive feel more like a snuggle.

When I'm really, really cold, they feel really, really good.

Mad Navigational Skillz

"I may not have gone where I intended to go,

but I think I have ended up where I needed to be."

-- Douglas Adams, The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul

Toy car and map 3-12-14

"The ability to tell a good route from a terrible one

is a valuable skill when leading an expedition.

Unfortunately for us all, it was a skill I did not possess."

-- Tahir Shah, 

House of the Tiger King: The Quest for a Lost City

I'm no Amerigo Vespucci, but I was pretty darn proud of myself yesterday for navigating my way home after my dinosaur of a GPS finally kicked the bucket.

I was on a little road trip to an unfamiliar town, and was about an hour and 45 minutes from home when the gizmo conked out. Luckily, my atrophied navigational skills kicked in. I relied on road signs and instinct, and even though I missed my exit for the toll road, I didn't panic. I just kept following the signs, heading North and West, until I was back on track. I didn't mind the detour either. The scenery was better on this alternate route. I drove past a big pink candy factory.

Also, I knew that if the situation got dire I had a map in my glove box -- the real, accordion-folded paper kind. Remember those?

I remember car trips with my parents. Some of their best bickering happened with Dad at the wheel and Mom with her feet propped up on the dash, a road Atlas across her knees. He'd bark "Damn it! Marilyn, what do I do?" And she'd casually enumerate his potential options, pointing with her pinkie fingernail at possibilities he had to choose from, discussing what he could do as the exit loomed fast and hard. Then she'd say "Here!" He'd yell "Son of a pup!" and swerve our big yellow Colony Park station wagon across three lanes of traffic, barely catching the off-ramp.

Instead of the "navigator" he called her the "aggravator."

Even though GPS has undoubtedly saved some marriages and prevented some collisions, it's startling how completely we've come to rely on and trust electronic navigational tools. In days of yore, I used to map out a trip beforehand by looking at an actual map. I'd write directions on a notepad. I used my brain and my innate abilities, such as they were.

Now, even though I head out with a destination in mind, I often have no real understanding of the route between point A and point B. I don't pay much attention to where I am, or where I'm going. Even though I'm technically in the driver's seat, with cruise control and GPS I feel like a non-participant in the journey. It's like being spoon-fed. I just blindly trust the robot voice inside the magical whatchamacallit to faithfully deliver me from here to there. I have no backup plan because time after time the whatchamacallit gets me there without fail. 

Until it failed.

Granted, it wasn't a very complicated route home, and as I said, I did fuck it up a little. Nevertheless, I was glad to have my skills tested and to find out that I actually do still have some, even if they are a bit rusty. And frankly, it was kind of nice not having the bossy GPS bitch riding my ass the whole time.