Tripping: Why I Love It

1 02 2010

Heading west on Interstate 40 through Arizona, with time to kill, we jump off at the exit for Winslow to hit the back roads. We stop in the small town to let the GPS set our route and it leads us to a small dirt road on the edge of town. Do we take it? Hell Yes! We turn on the road made of gravel and dirt, clouds of dust fly behind us. As we drive down the narrow road we see a couple of houses, then civilization disappears behind us. It seems we are the only people on earth. The land before us is wide open. Every once in a while we see signs that other people were once here, an old rusty car, some bed springs, but nothing else. All of the sudden a jack rabbit runs out of the small shrubs that scatter the desert landscape. We continue on the road for over 30 minutes , before we see the end, a fence crossing the road, we can go no further. We stop for a few minutes, looking for any way that we can continue, but we must turn around.

Road near Winslow, AZ.

People often ask me, why don’t you just fly? Well, for one, it scares the shit out of me. Two, why would I fly? Getting there is the best part of my vacation, why would I skip it? The answer is really simple. I love the road. I love driving mile after mile watching the scenery change around me, not knowing what is around the next corner. There is nothing like tossing your gear in the car, hitting the road, and not knowing what lies ahead. Sure you’ve made a plan, you know your destination, and you’ve set the GPS, but there are so many things that could alter the plan. Some are out of your hands and can slow you down, but others are the essence of the road. You have total control over where you go, what you see, and how you get there. This is what I love about the road.




One response

27 03 2010
Wheelie bins and wildflowers « Jars of Water

[…] vacations are all about. Maybe it’s to enjoy a vista, or photograph a wildflower, or explore rusty junk on the side of the trail. Maybe it’s to fix a flat from one of those sharp desert rocks. The […]

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