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After the Pool

After the Pool

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The windows were down and my hair was flying. I had punched some buttons on the car radio and found the jazz station, which was playing a blues tune. The Beach Boys would have been better, but blues worked too.

This wasn’t just any drive; it was heading home from the pool, the quintessential summer excursion. Swim suit cool on the skin, air blowing through the car, wet towels on the back seat. The sun so warm on my bare left arm that I slathered it with sunscreen as I sat at a light.

What is it about driving home after the pool that seems the very soul of summer? Is it the weariness in the muscles? The trace of chlorine on the skin? Or is it knowing that you’ve imbibed the season in all its glory?

Sitting Still

Sitting Still

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I’ve been a road rat since before I can remember, a kid who thought nothing of being cooped up in a car all day because, well, that’s the price of adventure. Not that I would have phrased it exactly that way at age 5 or 11 or 14. But I knew that boredom was the price of travel.

I rediscovered a bit of that feeling last weekend on our four-day trip from Fairfax to Fayette and back. That’s Fairfax County, Virginia, to Fayette County, Kentucky: 500 miles, give or take a few. Eight hours, maybe nine if you’re pulling a trailer, which we were.

How to while away the hours, especially when you’re not driving? When there’s more than one person in the car (and sometimes even when there’s not — but that’s another story), you talk. You get caught up on work and family and what you’ll do when you arrive. And then, when you’ve exhausted all conversation, you stare out the window at the clouds.

The Low Country

The Low Country

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There was one point in yesterday’s drive when the GPS inexplicably sent us off on a 17-mile detour, presumably because of a traffic jam ahead.

Whether or not this was necessary — or a wild goose chase — may never be known. But though it had already been a long trip and I was more than ready to be done with it, I tried to take in the surroundings, to feel the flatness of the land and the nearness of the water.

It was only then, during that brief sojourn away from the buzz and roar of I-95, that I felt I was truly in the low country.

Cars in Clothes

Cars in Clothes

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The Jeep caught my eye, not because of its sleek lines or elegant design, but because of the perky bow on its spare tire. 

Why do people dress their cars, give them antlers in December and bunny ears in spring? Is it because they spend so much time in their vehicles that the autos are an extension of themselves? An attempt to humanize the vehicle so we act civilly around it? Or is it pure whimsy that drives this practice? 

I’m going with that last explanation because it makes me smile.  To celebrate this Jeep’s “attire,” I snapped a shot while stopped at a light. 

There’s a twist to this story, an amazing one too, given the number of cars I pass in this auto-dependent suburb. Four hours later, I spotted the same car, miles away from where I saw it the first time. 

Car clothes aren’t just fun then, they’re a powerful identifier. The moral of this story: Dress your car if you must, but be sure it behaves itself. 

An Adventure

An Adventure

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Today, to avoid traffic, I plan to drive 20 or 30 miles out of my way, to etch a trail up and over rather than down and across. To take a country road rather than an interstate. It sounds crazy, which is why I’m calling it an adventure.  

I wonder if anyone has studied the miles people drive to avoid sitting on highways. If not, I propose the Washington, D.C. metropolitan area as a prime location for research. With two states plus the District of Columbia, one river and too few bridges (once you’re out of the city), our neck of the woods is filled with idling cars and fuming motorists.  

Tell us, please, what we can do about it … apart from having “adventures,” of course.   

(Evening rush hour on I-66)                                                                                                                                               

A Sunset, An Intersection

A Sunset, An Intersection

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Asheville is a small city with big scenery,  including a road called Town Mountain Drive. I drove it by accident the other day on the way to see the sunset, which was stunning. 

The road was a different matter, winding up and up and up, mildly terrifying in spots, especially for the cars on the outside, but an adventure just the same.

I read later that Town Mountain Drive connects directly with the Blue Ridge Parkway, so this morning (back in Virginia) I looked up the two roads on a map. And sure enough, they intersect, at the exact same spot where we parked for our hike, Craven Gap.

Many Worlds

Many Worlds

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Yesterday there was a drive and some errands that reminded me how many worlds exist inside this one world we call home. 

There was a body shop with country music blaring and an American flag flying and a mechanic named JJ who pronounced the bill — “that will be nine thousand dollars” — before grinning and saying he was just kidding. 

There was a hole-in-the-wall eatery with goat meat and fou-fou and a woman wearing a colorful West African print in bright yellow. 

And in between these places were parkways of green, the home of our first president, and the Potomac River flashing bright outside the car window, its bridges arching gracefully over the waves.

It’s a big world out there. How good it is to be reminded of it. 

A Pedestrian at Heart

A Pedestrian at Heart

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I pulled up at the light, heart pounding. I’d missed the turn-off for Rock Creek Parkway and now was in some sort of endless correction loop, counting the one-two-three-four-five-six — sixth! — exit of the roundabout, which would take me, after more twists and turns, to the parkway entrance.

As I waited at the light, I stared longingly at the pedestrians. They were mostly young (this was a university area), bopping along with backpacks tossed carelessly across their shoulders, chatting as they crossed at the light. How I longed to be one of them! 

Instead, I waited for the light to turn green, then put the car in first and made my way (eventually, after a hair-raising U-turn) onto the parkway. Yes, I reached my destination … but at a price.

I’ll always be a pedestrian at heart. 

(Hoofing it through an urban center.)

Exposed

Exposed

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Walking early today because it will be too hot to tromp around later, I took a different route out my front door, turning right at the corner instead of left. Then, at the next corner, choosing a path that runs along a four-lane road. 

It’s one of my semi-regular walks, but I hadn’t taken it in a while, so I noticed how pine boughs crowd the sidewalk, how fast cars speed along beside the path, how close together are road and sidewalk. 

How exposed I suddenly felt! For after all, what is a mere walker when confronted with tons of speeding steel? 

(I realize I don’t take too many photos of cars on highways. I’m much more likely to snap bucolic shots like the one above.)

  

Back in the Bluegrass

Back in the Bluegrass

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By Winchester the land has changed, has taken on the open feel of the Bluegrass. It’s close in Mount Sterling, but not quite there. 

So I felt myself exhale a little when we got to that point on our drive yesterday, savoring that feeling of home.

It’s a feeling I’ve been enjoying all day.