That Cruel Mistress Reality

Looking back on it, I think the seeds of the road trip idea were planted early while watching “On the Road” with Charles Kuralt. I was pretty young at the time but I can vaguely recall this folksy guy wandering around small towns in his RV and presenting these endlessly entertaining slices of Americana. Ever since then, I’ve periodically fantasized about how much fun that would be. In my imagined road trip, I am driving some kind of old-school Cadillac convertible over a sun-sparkled two-lane highway. No traffic in sight, I smoothly shift into fifth, adjust my shades, and rocket into the shimmering horizon. You know, generally just looking insufferably cool. But alas, such grand visions are tempered by reality:

• I’m driving an automatic Honda Civic and I can’t drive stick. Yes, I am not a real man.
• I am seriously directionally impaired. I’ve lost my car in parking garages. I somehow always make a few wrong turns to get anywhere.
• It’s October. The ‘sun beaming down’ scenario might be a little hard to realize. On the flip side however, the summer travel crowds will be gone and the price of gas is going down.

This drive is going to be orders of magnitude longer than anything I’ve done before. The longest drive I’ve ever been on is pitiful by Mainland standards: A mere 600 mile round trip between Seattle and Moscow. I submit as evidence the current reading on my odometer. I should point out that this car is a ‘99.

Regardless, I can’t seem to stop grinning. Next stop: Portland