Road Trip Reflections
It’s been about a week since I’ve been back from my Road Trip. Along the way I jotted notes and here’s what I came up with:
Reader Board: “without ice cream all would be darkness and chaos”
Rest stop bathroom poster: “no one should force you to work”–immigrant worker rights poster
Parking lot: one legged-seagull and a choir of grackles.
Dairy Queen: girl to grandpa–“how do they get the swirl on top of cone?”
Wireless Connect Option:
Drunkengiantgrogshop; dishonestdon–what neighborhood have I stopped in?
Window Shopping: seen on bib–“these fools have turned my super cape backwards.”
Coffee Shoppe: eclectic chairs and tables, tall ceilings, bookcase of children’s books, windowed playroom with dress up clothes, chalkboard walls, train set, kitchenette hutch. A brood of children frolicking while moms and dads read, deviced, paperworked. Lovely chocolate chip cookies too.
At the park: full out barbeques and families on a Saturday night
At the restaurant: a dessert so beautiful I actually took a photo
In the parking lot: grated fern, a statement of deeper naturalism versus industrialism that Keats, Byron, or any of the Romanticist poets would have found poignant.
On the highway: no way, amazing, sleek as a Woolworth counter grilled cheese sandwich on a pastel Bakelite plate, a blast from the past–an actual Greyhound bus sporting a “hundred years” sticker to boot.
In the motel room: white noise box with ocean waves, complete with seagulls scree; forest dawn, crickets and birds quite charming,; rain pattering, too close to home; fan, buzzy hum. A novelty never before encountered and even available for purchase. Tried it on first night and grandkiddo, the one who needs a minimum of two-three books, some conversation, and a bit of snuggling was out within two minutes of being lulled by waves.
Return home: a road trip is not complete without road construction delay. At one section the two lane highway is down to one lane and nobody is moving. Not no way. Not no how. Behind a little red car which is behind a huge white truck, yet from strained sneak peeks the road looks clear ahead. The MEPA is quietly muttering for the car ahead to edge around truck. Finally it does, and like a cork popping from a bottle, traffic started flowing again. The problem? The exit ramp so full it flowed onto road. No flagger directing traffic, construction crew absolutely clueless to havoc below on highway.
Dinner stop: connection with youngest progeny for dinner. Roadside grazing produces guilt to eat lightly–salad bar. Yet when it’s $12.00 though all one can eat, I strive to get my monetary satisfaction. It is possible to overdose on greenery, especially when artichoke hearts and curried chicken salad are involved.
Rolling in late to home some 6 hours later than the Google Maps prediction: truly there is no place like home