Best trips I’ve ever taken
Nobody planned them. We had a family tradition that at least once a year, parents and any kids still hanging around the old parsonage would get into the family car and set off to the nearest intersection, and one of the kids would at least figuratively take the wheel. The chief kid operating officer would say, “Left!” (Or right or straight) and we’d set out for an unknown destination.
Sometimes we’d be home again in an hour. Some days we’d arrive at the Dismal Swamp or the Pennsylvania Grand Canyon (not to be confused with the actual Grand Canyon, but closer).
After a 19 1/2 year marriage and then divorce, I set out like that.
Today I’ve been thinking about that eleven-and-a half month trip, specifically about four places I found unintentionally. Some I knew were there in a vague National Geographic way. Others I just stumbled over while meandering around the USA in my Toyota Camry, a gallant car.
One such place wasn’t even named. It was in the grasslands of the Midwest. Iowa, I think. After miles and miles of flat prairie, I came upon a quirky rest stop. Maybe thirty feet off the long flat empty road, some local had built it. Several tiers of bales of straw rose to the throne, a toilet flanked by a magazine stand full of reading material and a toilet paper holder (still with the roll of tissue). There was no indication the toilet was connected to any plumbing, and none that it had ever been used. Either somebody cleaned it regularly, or previous visitors had recognized it for the quirky monument it was. When I walked down off the straw bales, a neatly drawn hand-made sign admonished me, “Please drive safely.”
I drove away smiling. And safely. And still looking for a restroom.
In Utah, I stopped at a clearing near the road, among the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen. A grove of aspens with silvery bark and slender pale green spring leaves enticed me in. In the center, the aspens were dense, and shafts of sunlight drove down into the clearing like blessings. Like a painting you see in an illustrated Bible. Later I would learn that aspen trees share a root system, and what nourishes one feeds all.
In Colorado Springs, I drove the Camry places she wasn’t meant to go, but she never failed me. The Garden of the Gods, a fever dream of rock formations, with rich varied colors. An alien place of beauty beyond my imagination.
Lyon, Colorado: St. Vrain’s Canyon is both a jewel of the mountains and a scene of ancient geological violence. The road climbs abruptly, threading through the forests, then tumbles of rocks the size of city buildings scattered on the slopes.
There was so much more, the Florida wetlands, the Gulf coast, ocean beaches, mountains so high only eagles can reach the peaks.
What gifts we have been given!
Sometimes we’d be home again in an hour. Some days we’d arrive at the Dismal Swamp or the Pennsylvania Grand Canyon (not to be confused with the actual Grand Canyon, but closer).
After a 19 1/2 year marriage and then divorce, I set out like that.
Today I’ve been thinking about that eleven-and-a half month trip, specifically about four places I found unintentionally. Some I knew were there in a vague National Geographic way. Others I just stumbled over while meandering around the USA in my Toyota Camry, a gallant car.
One such place wasn’t even named. It was in the grasslands of the Midwest. Iowa, I think. After miles and miles of flat prairie, I came upon a quirky rest stop. Maybe thirty feet off the long flat empty road, some local had built it. Several tiers of bales of straw rose to the throne, a toilet flanked by a magazine stand full of reading material and a toilet paper holder (still with the roll of tissue). There was no indication the toilet was connected to any plumbing, and none that it had ever been used. Either somebody cleaned it regularly, or previous visitors had recognized it for the quirky monument it was. When I walked down off the straw bales, a neatly drawn hand-made sign admonished me, “Please drive safely.”
I drove away smiling. And safely. And still looking for a restroom.
In Utah, I stopped at a clearing near the road, among the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen. A grove of aspens with silvery bark and slender pale green spring leaves enticed me in. In the center, the aspens were dense, and shafts of sunlight drove down into the clearing like blessings. Like a painting you see in an illustrated Bible. Later I would learn that aspen trees share a root system, and what nourishes one feeds all.
In Colorado Springs, I drove the Camry places she wasn’t meant to go, but she never failed me. The Garden of the Gods, a fever dream of rock formations, with rich varied colors. An alien place of beauty beyond my imagination.
Lyon, Colorado: St. Vrain’s Canyon is both a jewel of the mountains and a scene of ancient geological violence. The road climbs abruptly, threading through the forests, then tumbles of rocks the size of city buildings scattered on the slopes.
There was so much more, the Florida wetlands, the Gulf coast, ocean beaches, mountains so high only eagles can reach the peaks.
What gifts we have been given!
