"Operation Haul-Ass"

I credit to my son, Will, for this phrase: aptly applied to the traveling style of He Who Drove on our family road trips of yore. The mantra of these family vacations was "Get There."

Gas stops were permitted; fast food at Shoney's or all-night truck stops, okay.  Anything else was a distraction to the goal of getting to Point B. Taking pictures?  Take 'em quick while the driver's gassing up.  Shopping?  Five minutes, max.

Before the Interstate (such a boon to OHA travelers such as my ex-husband), front seat passengers had to consult the map at every intersection.  But make it quick, okay?  At night, read the map with a flashlight, no time to pull over.

The year after our house fire, we bought a Pop Up camper and hit the road--while the rubble of the fire remained for arson investigators.  For ten weeks, we traveled, 26 states, including quick trips into Canada: Banff and Vancouver.  Being with my children in the Volvo; looking out the window at scenes I took pictures of in my mind; meeting people in campgrounds while the driver fished--those were among the best ten weeks of those years.

After their father was settled in fishing, the children and I would take the car and go exploring.  Or we'd hike with our new-found campground friends, wearing bells around our necks to ward off bears.  Day and I would go into a nearby towns and shop.

Today I appreciate Operation Back Roads even more because of years in the passenger seat.  I luxuriate in the spaciousness of time behind the wheel.  This curvy road--to echo Virginia Wolfe's "room of one's own" (which  forever stretched the imagination of those of us who heard it in college classrooms in the late sixties)--is what I call "a road of my own."

No beckoning back road goes unexplored.  No photo op goes untaken. The best lunch stops are Mom and Pop cafes.

"How long does it take you to get to Atlanta?" my optometrist once asked me the day before I set out for Georgia.

"Four or five days," I said.

"Have they moved Atlanta?" he asked.

"Well, you never know what you might want to stop and see along the way," I said.  (I was talking to a supposed expert at seeing things.)

"That kind of traveling would drive me nuts!" he said. "I'll bet I could get there in 24 hours straight, stopping only for gas."

I bet he could!  It's been done before, many times.
I know, I was there.