The joy and charm of the great American roadtrip was mostly flushed away by the introduction of the interstate. I recently decided to go on a roadtrip and half way on my way to charleston I got the notion to take one of these smaller highways. This was influenced by a nagging boredom and the low humming noise my surfboard makes when it is strapped to the top of a car that is far too small for any sane person to strap a surfboard to. A craze hit my brains and I swerved out of the normal flow of traffic onto a precarious road that was littered with slow speed signs, a traffic light, and delightful views of gorgeous fields and tiny towns you might see in the movie Mississippi Burning. I was really delighted with the choice. I even saw a quarter of a double rainbow, so it was more like a half rainbow, but still, it made me chuckle that someone could be moved to tears over something like that.
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Agreed. Whenever I have the time, I much prefer taking non-interstate roads for a road trip. Problem is, 90% of the time I’m on a deadline, people expecting me and the like, and interstates for all their sins have the virtue of being anywhere from 30% to 100% faster than any other route.
Think about the extreme examples here: walking, you can see EVERYTHING. But it’ll take you about 15 times as long to get anywhere, compared to driving. Meanwhile flying is, for all practical purposes, teleportation, in that you’re picked up in an airport and mere hours later you’re deposited in a remarkably similar airport in an entirely different time zone where you can’t find a decent enchilada. But I digress.
A place where one cannot find a decent enchilada is not a place I’d like to find myself. I’ve been there, it’s not tasty.