Road Trips

[HumboldtGurl]

Well, DH and I love road tripping so much that in 2007, we went on a long one in a new RV with our dog Jerry, after doctors told us he had just a few months to live. When Jerry continued to thrive after a year, we decided to keep moving and today, five years later, we're still on the road! We've put over 70,000 miles on our rig traveling to all parts of North America.

In fact, I'm writing this from our solar-powered RV while camped along the most remote stretch of the Rio Grande, near Terlingua, Texas (we have satellite Internet which keeps us online even when there's no cell service). The scenery is breathtaking and once again we are stunned at the beauty on this continent. We are constantly surprised at new finds like this.

I say: why not keep driving? The full-timing lifestyle isn't for everyone but if you have the traveling bug, why not find a way to take a year off and see if it suits you?

[Zoebird]

As someone who does not enjoy being in the car for hours, I'd really like to know what makes it possible for all of you to truly enjoy roadtrips, because there are many places that I'd like to take my daughter that are best approached as a roadtrip, such as the national parks between MN and WY. After 8 hours of driving, even with a stop or two, I feel like a caged animal and have to pace or walk for a long time before my body feels comfortable again. And I know that many people do more hours than that in a day.

The only roadtrip I've ever enjoyed was when I moved cross-country and limited the number of hours/day driving because I had a toddler who needed to run also. But that made the trip costly, in addition to taking extra days that my DH usually doesn't have in his vacation time. So we usually fly, and rent a car when we need one, which makes travel even more expensive...!

You have your own answer. Stop more -- drive less.

Here in NZ -- because most things are close, we don't drive more than 2-3 hrs at a time right now. DS needs to get out, and honestly, so do we.

And on our next trip, we'll be going to Picton, and spending three nights there and driving out to hikes (less than an hour or two away), and then drive to Nelson and spend 2 nights there, and then onto Takaka, and driving outwards from there for several days, before heading back to picton (all in one day, which should be 4-5 hours), and then taking the ferry back.

The last trip, we did 2 hrs to a given town, then two nights there to explore the area, then onto the next place. it worked nicely.

[dado potato]

Lincoln Highway appeals to me. At some time I hope to make a circuit from E Rochelle, IL, westbound with side trips to Grinnell, Montour, Marshalltown, Spirit Lake, and Huron... maybe in November when the snow geese are thick. Then home via St Paul.

[SiouzQ.]

Hi ya'll! Sprung from work finally. Here is a piece of writing I did awhile back about the magic of road trips. I was in the process of writing a song and I wrote this as a way to get into the mood of the piece. Enjoy!

Vanishing Points

We used to sit in the "way-back " red vinyl seat of my dad's white Ford Falcon station wagon on those endless road trips out west before the interstate went all the way through coast-to-coast. We could have been traveling through any number of states watching the redundant cornfields of the mid-west give way to the hard scrabble sand and dust of the Eastern Rockies. Heatwaves hovered over the steaming blacktop and appeared to melt the pavement behind us as if the friction of the tires set the asphalt on fire. Inevitably, an argument would be brewing between my older brother and sister about whose leg was straying over the territorial boundary line formed by the seat seam in the sweaty vinyl. Imprisoning your children in seat belts on those long rides was mostly unheeded back in those days; we were free to roam around and tumble over the seat back and into the "way-back", thwok each other on the head, and poke each other in the ribs until the cry of "Stop it! I gotta pee!" was piercingly screeched out. My brother always got into trouble for bothering us girls in some obnoxious little boy-way, and I, being the youngest, would pull on my pout like a sweater and set my bottom lip quivering ever so slightly, with tears threatening to slide down my freckled cheeks until I got my way.

This life on the road (albeit a three week vacation from my dad's engineering job) was grand in all respects. Watching out the car window as the landscape streamed by endlessly was like watching a never-ending, fast-forwarded television show. I remember thinking as I stared off into the distance out my passenger side window, I wonder if any human being has ever touched that tree, or that funny-looking rock over there, or has anyone in the history of the world since the beginning ever climbed up that hill over there and looked around? Who lived in that abandoned farmhouse? Why did they leave? What secrets did they leave behind? Questions like that would keep me mutely preoccupied during the interminably hot drowsy hours.

I remember one trip in which I must have been only three or four years old because I got to sit up front between my parents in my little hook-on baby seat with the white plastic steering wheel and little red rubber horn and "drive" with my dad. I watched the road carefully through the windshield and made sure that I was keeping my car between the white lines, just like dad did and checked the rear-view mirror at regular intervals, just like dad did. I drove off into the sunset straight toward the purple mountains that loomed ahead on the horizon.

At some point late in the day, we would stop in some dusty ranching town to get gasoline from a Sinclair station with its green dinosaur on the sign, or at the MobilGas station with Pegasas leaping gracefully into the air above us. Gas was about 25 cents per gallon and the service station had actual attendants who would fill up your tank and wash all the windows for you. After everyone stretched and got their treat of an ice-cold Coke in a worn glass bottle with the condensation forming rivulets that dripped onto our dusty feet, my parents would make a stop at the local feed and supply store and outfit us kids in our little cowboy hats and boots.

I was right proud of my little brown boots and strutted around importantly as only a small child can do without looking foolish. We went to real rodeos, not the gussied up tourist shows that came around later. I was fascinated by it all, the dust, the animals, the stink of manure, the sweat and often the blood of the cowboys who rode. Without knowing it then, the imprint of the male archetype in my mind was born...

And here is the song "Vanishing Points" - a darkish, bluesy tune

When you're riding backwards
In the rumble seat
You're always watchin'
The faded lines of history recede
Looking ahead, the windshield's cracked like a cataract
But you keep on lookin' forward
To quit that lookin' back

Up 'round the bend
In a dark valley it leads
You follow it up
To distant high lonesome peaks
The road is uncharted, your directions lost
At the end of the day
The payoff's greater than the price of loss

Chorus:
But you'll never catch up
Oh that vanishing point...it's just too far
No fast-moving train, no speeding car
No high-flying plane or a shooting star
Will ever catch you up
To that vanishing point...oh it's just too far

Way up in the distance
A sign says Danger, Fall Out zone
You take one glance
Quickly decide to follow that road
Thrill of the unknown
It keeps you feeling alive
No more sleepwalkin' through your days
It's high time you get in for a ride

(chorus)

When am I going to get there?
A little voice whispers in your head
You'll get there when you get there
The other voice in there said
But how will I know when I've arrived?
Oh you know you've arrived
When you feel so completely and utterly alive

(chorus)

We've been performing this song for about a year and people really seem to like it!

[catherine]

SiouzQ, that's a great story! And a great song! I really like the concept about the vanishing point. Your description of your trip pretty much encapsulates what I like about road trips, too!

[jp1]

In fact, I'm writing this from our solar-powered RV while camped along the most remote stretch of the Rio Grande, near Terlingua, Texas

Terlingua Texas! That's where this guy lives! http://thefieldlab.blogspot.com/ I think I read about him on this board somewhere. He's a transplanted NY'er who decided he needed to make some changes in his life.

[SiouzQ.]

Thanks Catherine! Now this has got me all preoccupied with the idea of another road trip somehow this summer, but with gas $4.00/gallon....well, a girl can still dream

[Float On]

SiouzQ, beautifully written!

[HumboldtGurl]

Terlingua Texas! That's where this guy lives! http://thefieldlab.blogspot.com/ I think I read about him on this board somewhere. He's a transplanted NY'er who decided he needed to make some changes in his life.

Dang! I wish I had seen this earlier. We just left after growing weary from three days of 100 plus temps.

This guy's nuts...I like that!

[iforonwy]

Over the years we have travelled a lot in the USA but not quite so much over the past 5-6years but we are about to travel to the Upper Penninsular in September. We are coming over from the UK. In the past we have used motels like Super 8 but we wonder if they are as good as they used to be? Any hints and tips for good, clean, comfortable motels/small hotels on our way?