How to Travel

I have found my preferred form of travel.

Over the years I have crossed our country (and even gone out
of our country) using many different methods: train, bus, airplane, mini-van,
15-passenger van, cruise ship. They all have their benefits.

Only one, though, seems to fill most of what I need out of a
trip, especially a trip that comes on the heels of an extremely busy time.

It’s a pretty simple formula: best friend + Corvette + road
= happiness.

The best friend part is pretty self-explanatory. Your best
friend should be someone you want to spend most of your time with, the person
who loves you for who you are, allows you to just be your unvarnished, most
true, you. Who cherishes your dreams as much as you do, even if he doesn’t
understand them, just because they are yours. Who puts up with your whims and
musings and your tendency to get hangry if you’re not fed right now dammit and
your inability to navigate anywhere, even places we’ve been before. This is the
ideal travel partner.

Taking the Corvette means we must distill down what we need
for two weeks into a pretty small space. We have become masters at packing
flat, which allows us to remove the roof of the car and stow it in the back,
all our belongings underneath the “lid.” Packing flat is an art form, and
requires discerning what we really, truly need to be happy for two whole weeks.
Only the basics and the essentials make it. (Basics: tooth brushes and paste,
medicine, clothes. Essentials: iPhone and charger, laptop for writing, couple
of small books.) Traveling like this makes me feel light, reminds me that it’s
not possessions that make me happy. The things are simply tools to help me down
the road towards fulfillment; they aren’t the finish line.

The Corvette has only two seats. Two. One for him, one for
me. Taking a car that has only two seats means it’s impossible to bring our
child. This is where the explanation gets tricky, because there are a lot of
parents who wouldn’t dare dream of doing anything without their children, and
who are aghast that parents would even purchase a two-seater car while still
having a child(ren) at home. M and I believe, though, that we are more than
Parents. We are also Husband and Wife, which we were before our daughter came
along and which we will be after she flies the coop and starts her own life, hopefully
with her own best friend. If we do not cultivate our marriage, what will be
left when she goes? If we make our lives child-centric for 18 years, how do we go back to being childless when she’s grown up? 18 years is a long time to
set new habits that may be impossible to break. Don’t get me wrong…we do plenty
of trips with her (the kid just flew to the Dominican Republic, first class
mind you, for a week of beach and pool fun). But part of her experience should
also include exploring (both herself and her world) and growing up, so this
summer she went to her first week-long sleep-away camp and is now spending a
couple weeks with two of her three sets of grandparents. We FaceTime and I text
pictures of things I think she’d like. We connect without being entirely
connected. This is good for all of us.

Owning a Corvette led us to join a local club of Corvette
owners. The only thing any of us really have in common with each other is that
we all own this particular brand of car. That’s pretty much it. Some couples
have no children, some have grown children, some – like us – have a kid at
home. Some work, some are retired. College grads and high school grads and
rocket scientist-types. Some like to heavily mod their cars, some prefer to
stay factory original. We come in all colors, shapes and sizes, and we all have
a tremendous amount of fun when we are together. Sometimes, M and I will go
months without seeing our club. Work and retreat and child schedules preclude
us from participating in many meetings, runs and parties. When we do get a
chance to join, though, it’s like not a day has passed. We pick up right where
we left off, falling all over ourselves with laughter. At the same time, one of
my closest Club friends is becoming an incredible source of comfort for me. Her
mother struggled with Alzheimer’s, so she gets it, gets me, gets how difficult
all this is. She can’t fix it for me, but she gives me wonderful hugs that
remind me I’m not alone.

All this is just to say that yes, even the car is important
when determining how to travel. If we didn’t have a Corvette, we most likely
wouldn’t be on this trip. They planned a jaunt out west and we decided to tag along. We left early because M and I want to hit Moab, UT,
and the rest of the Club decided to skip that this year. We stopped first in
OKC to spend time with friends there, then headed up to Loveland, CO, where we
are currently visiting with more friends. From here we hit Grand Junction,
Moab, and The Black Canyon of the Gunnison before we meet up with the rest of
the Club in Colorado Springs. The Club trip was what spurred us to action.

When we left Friday morning, I felt a sense of calm settle
over me. I haven’t been calm in weeks. Work has been hectic, and so much summer
fun at home has meant a pretty frenetic pace. While I have enjoyed work and am
so grateful to be blessed with an incredible personal life that includes a
kick-ass house and even more kick-ass family, I do need down time. Time to
recharge. I read somewhere that the true definition of an introvert is someone
who needs time between social interactions. If you’re shy, you’re shy, but if
you’re introverted you can get along just fine socially but require time alone
to recover. This is me. I crave alone time. My whole life I thought I was an
extrovert because I love being in social situations. Turns out I’m actually an
introvert because I love being alone just as much, if not more. (I know, this
was a surprise to me, too. It all depends on how you define extrovert and introvert.)

So when we’re in the car, with the lid off and the music
playing, and we are silent for miles and miles at a time, it’s a good thing for
me. It’s a good thing for us. We see new things together, share new
experiences, create memories. And at the heart of it, we are just being. He is just him, and I am just me.
No more is expected of us. He is content to drive every mile (he still has a
child-like joy with driving that car of his dreams) and I am content to
passenge. (Is that a new word I just made up? He’s a driver who drives; I am a
passenger who…passenges.) HAL, our lovely navigator, tells us where to go. The
wheels spin and the tires make a soothing hum on the road and the vistas sweep
by. Pump jacks and broken down barns and small towns…all passing scenery as we
flee our over-scheduled lives. I will never tire of the pump jacks and the
broken down barns and the small towns. They help remind me of why I love my
country so much. Manifest destiny? Bet your ass.

There’s a feeling that we could go anywhere we want, that we
are actually going everywhere we
want. The only pressure is to keep the gas tank and our bellies full. At nearly
every gas station or restroom break we have a small conversation with someone
who admires the car. Seems like everyone has a link to Corvette. “I used to own
one” or “My dad had one when I was a kid” or “I helped my uncle restore his
’53.” Corvette is, at its core, shared Americana. It’s one of the things I love
best about that car. On the highway to OKC a couple days ago, we came up on a
church van filled with kids. One of the boys in the back turned his head and
caught sight of the Corvette. He must have said something, because the two boys
next to him dutifully swiveled their heads to look. I waved at them, and they
smiled and waved back. As we came up alongside the van more boys turned and
looked. I saw one boy say, “Oh! She’s waving!” and we all shared goofy grins
and waves. It was just a moment, but it was fun. I hope we planted a
seed and one of those boys will grow up and buy a Corvette.

We’re still in the honeymoon of our trip, only three days
in. I’m settling into a new routine of no routine, just open road and a bed
waiting at the end of each day. We’ve gone from Missouri hills to Oklahoma red
soil to Kansas flatlands to Colorado mountains. We’ve already eaten a whole
bunch of good food and seen some beautiful sites (we drove Trail Ridge Road in
Rocky Mountain National Park yesterday…holy cow) and laughed a lot with friends.

The road stretches before us. I can’t think of anything more
beautiful right now.