Every time I start out on a road trip, I remember the time my optometrist asked me, "How long does it take to get to Georgia?" and I replied, "Three or four days, maybe five."
His response: "Did they move Georgia?"
I informed him that Georgia had not been moved, but that the length of a trip depended on what there was to see along the way. I imagined that he--an eye specialist--might get it, the pleasure of seeing things.
But he was, after all, a man. "That would drive me nuts," he said.
Most men--thankfully not Mike--seem to believe that the best route is the quickest and straightest line between Point A and Point B. For me, the pleasure of the trip involves stopping whenever I feel like it, looking around, taking pictures. I love long stretches of back roads, listening to podcasts and music. I look forward to lunches in little Mom and Pop cafes, talking to local people, and sleeping in motels.
After filling Blue with gas, I'll decide which route to start out on--Interstate 10 or Interstate 20. I know them both by heart--and if I decide to, I can make it in two days. But what kind of road trip would that be?
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