I Just Finished a Long Drive…
From Las Vegas, Nevada, up through Idaho and then completely across Oregon to the Oregon Coast. About twenty hours of driving or so one way, ten hours each day for four days.
In the past I have loved to just get out and drive. All my friends know that about me. And sometimes I take back roads and head for places in the wilderness Kris will never go with me to again. Ever.
But this time the driving and the travel was different and not fun. In the old days I would stop every hour to see something, get out and get a snack, just stretch. Maybe find a strange diner or antique store. Talk to people, meet people.
This time I would go three and four hours without stopping, or if I did stop it was often just in a wide spot along the road, since I stayed on back roads more than anything. And at gas stations it wasn’t fun. Everyone was afraid of everyone, and justifiably so. I didn’t get within ten feet of anyone at a truck stop or gas station. And besides saying thank you to a clerk, never talked with anyone except a clerk in one antique store I stopped at because I couldn’t keep my eyes open, and stayed twenty feet away from her.
The hotels I stayed in had everything closed like the pools and spas and such, and shields between me and the person behind the counter. You sort of snuck your way to your room and then left without talking to a soul and I was happy for that.
For days ahead I worried about the drive, something I had never done in the past. The operative feeling was fear. Not of the road or an accident, but of making a mistake and catching this virus. 40 hours of driving in fear. Not fun.
So if you are thinking that a road trip right about now would feel good, trust me, it will not. Not if you are sane and respectful of this virus. It will be a drive made in fear.
And that just ain’t fun.