the open road...

Driving from one state to another over the weekend, the sun was shining, fresh spring grasses knee high were waving along the side of the road, and the medians were filled with clover. It makes opening the sunroof an obligation, really, and upbeat music, necessary. While my weekend jaunt was nothing exciting (except for the beautiful day), I was reminded of two amazing road trips I’ve taken in my life and I couldn’t help but reminisce and ponder the wonder of a good, long stretch of road on a spectacular day.

I once drove the long trek from the Southeastern US all the way to Jackson Hole, Wyoming. I was blown away by the ever changing landscape on that trip and have never forgotten it: lush trees throughout the Southeast gave way to low lying lands across Arkansas. Then the sky opened up and the land streamed out for miles through Oklahoma and Kansas. We stopped for the night at the ranch of a friend a few hours outside of Denver, where the small pasture in front of the house was 500 acres. We then made our way through the wide canyons and dusty fields of southern Wyoming. Every American should have to drive across the country at least once in their life, just to see it, and hopefully be moved.

I also will never forget my summer of road trips throughout Australia behind the wheel (on the other side, remember) of a white 1972 Mercedes coupe. She was gorgeous, we called her Betty. She had a cattle guard on her front bumper- a occupational hazard for many cars in Queensland, as crashes with kangaroos will tear up a car (and can be fatal) if you collide with one on a dark stretch of road. But Betty was gorgeous, steel bumper cage and all.

I drove every highway in Queensland, from the dusty outback lands to the jungles of the coast. We hit every stop from Surfer’s Paradise to the massive cattle stations hours from civilization. We changed Betty’s tires too many times to count, as rocks on unpaved roads proved too much. We even dipped down into New South Wales and crossed the great dingo fence- an actual fence built across thousands of miles to control the dingo population. We crossed it at the top of a mountain on an unpaved road, and you literally have to get out of your car and open it to pass. We crossed one lane bridges where you can’t see the other side, and too often made turns onto the wrong side of the road (its harder to catch on to that driving on the left thing than you’d think!)

All of this is to say that you learn so much about a place by hitting its roads and spending time behind the wheel, stopping here and there to get a snack and shake a stranger’s hand. It’s not as quick, and perhaps not as glamorous, as some other means of travel (i.e. a private jet, which you won’t see me turn down, either) but you come away from the trip a bit wiser when you let the journey reign as important as the destination.

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