Thursday, July 13, 2006
The roads less traveled........
I guess it's odd that, as much as I hate moving, I do love to travel. Traveling to other places is nice, because you can go there, see the best that place has to offer, and then go home and not have to put up with the bad parts. Unless you're in D.C. these days, in which case some of the locals will offer you their version of "money reallocation" services.
When I was a kid, we didn't travel very much, due to lack of funds. So when we did travel, I really enjoyed it, as it was a special time for us. I see the usual depiction of a family on vacation, with the kids in the backseat raising hell and the harried Dad in the front seat blindly swinging his arm around in the back seat, attempting to make contact with anything he can reach. That never really happened with me. I was content to sit in the back, look out the window and watch the countryside go by. In the sixties, the interstate system was just getting started, and travel was still mostly done on two lane highways. Sometimes, if it was a US highway, such as the famed Route 66, it might be four lane. My dad never seemed to like those roads though, so it was usually two lanes for us. That was fine with me. I enjoyed them more anyway. We had a blue 1957 Chevy 210 station wagon that offered plenty of room for us in the back seat, so you could stretch your legs out and be comfortable. We'd go through some pretty small towns, some of which weren't even on the map. If you weren't paying attention, you'd miss them. This was in Missouri where I grew up. Summers are usually pretty warm down there, so of course the windows were open since AC was still a luxury most people didn't have. Multi-disk CD player?? Heck, the AM radio didn't even work. It was broken the day Dad bought the car, and he never bothered fixing it. Cost too much. He wasn't being cheap either. We simply couldn't spare the money.
I carry memories of traveling through the Ozarks, watching the thick, lush vegetation roll by, motoring along in quiet contemplation of what I was seeing and wondering what I'd see over the next hill. Missouri doesn't have any natural lakes, they're all man-made, so the only water we would see was streams and rivers. Since tires back then were little more than old t-shirts dipped in molten rubber, we'd almost always have at least one flat. We'd have to stop at a gas station that had one pump, and a sleepy dog out front. The man who filled your tank (There was no self service back then, the gas companies hadn't trained us to fill our own tanks yet.) was also the mechanic, bean counter, and owner of the place. We'd get the tire fixed, maybe a new tube, then he'd fill the tank and check the oil. They would ALWAYS come up to dad and show them the dipstick and in that southern Missoura drawl insist "It's down about a quart!" My dad would say "It's always down about a quart. No thanks!" (Of course, we'd check it later and it was fine.) Then the guy would wash the windshield, using the greasiest rag he had in the place. I think it was revenge for not buying that damned quart of oil. I'm also convinced that when we were out of sight, he would mail that rag to the next station we would stop at.
The one thing that I've never been able to figure out is why people will go to another city, state, or nation even, and eat at a chain restaurant. I mean, if you go to Chicago, a city that has more fine places to eat than just about any other city in America, would you eat at a Mac and Don's Supper Club??? Hell No!! I'll find one of the local eateries. The best way to do that is if you're staying at a motel or hotel, ask the locals who work there. Find out where they like to eat. Oftentimes, you'll be directed to a non-descript looking place that offers fine food for decent prices. Give it a try sometime. Quit handing your money over to the big national chain places. They'll not miss your money. Support the local places. You'll be glad you did.
"A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving." -- Lao Tzu
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Me Too! Would sum up all of what I feel.:) If you haven't yet, travel the Blue Ridge Parkway, end to end. You'll never regret the time it takes, nor the cost. It can't be discribed, it has to be experienced.
We ran across one of those "check the dipstick and grease the windshield" gas stations in S.C.!! A old couple runs it, have no children, and as they put it...."Ah reckon we'll jist run it till we drop. Baa then hit should be able to run itself!" Turn the handle to turn the pump on, wait fifteen or twenty seconds for it to get suction, then pump your gas.:) We were dumbfounded to find it! I'll get some pics and post them when we get settled.
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We ran across one of those "check the dipstick and grease the windshield" gas stations in S.C.!! A old couple runs it, have no children, and as they put it...."Ah reckon we'll jist run it till we drop. Baa then hit should be able to run itself!" Turn the handle to turn the pump on, wait fifteen or twenty seconds for it to get suction, then pump your gas.:) We were dumbfounded to find it! I'll get some pics and post them when we get settled.
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