In honor of Valentine’s Day, I thought I’d write a bit about road trips and relationships. Fourteen years ago, after Amy and I completed our first journey in a house on wheels (314 days, 48 states), I was surprised by a question most people seemed to ask us upon our return:
How does your marriage survive that?
It’s a stunning question, considering we shared a year of adventures and epiphanies, and my response is always: “How does a marriage survive not doing it?” After all, a relationship is very much a journey, and the lessons accrue like so many miles. So here are the lessons I learned on that original road trip:
ANTICIPATE LIFE WITH ENTHUSIASM
What kept us going, more than anything, was the notion that something special was always around the next bend. Nothing spices up the present like giddy expectations for the future. It doesn’t have to be the anticipation of hitting Savannah in May and the Grand Canyon in September. Sometimes the smallest things, not the grandest, provide forward-looking fodder.
TAKE THE ROAD LESS TRAVELED
Sure, we hit all the hot spots. But in order to research a book I was writing (States of Mind), the backbone of our trip was a visit to 18 tiny hamlets, each off the beaten path and named after a virtue – Pride (Alabama), Friendship (Maine), Wisdom (Montana), Love (Virginia). When we reflect on that year on the road, our memories usually begin there, where the people were few but the insights were many. Explore the nooks and crannies of life, just the two of you, and you make those places yours.
TALK
I mean really talk. Rolling through the countryside for hours at a time, there were plenty of times when we sat in introspective silence. But there also was ample time to compare thoughts on both where we were and where we were headed – geographically, spiritually and emotionally. Life zooms past quickly, but if you make time to analyze the moments as they fly by, then the moments become conversation pieces, and the conversations become shared intimacy.
BE A TEAM
We couldn’t have completed our journey without complementing each other. I drove, and Amy navigated. I wrote the book, and Amy snapped the photographs. We both spent hours in the library doing research – together. Upon arriving at our destination, we would set up camp like a Daytona pit crew. We’d be done in five minutes. (In fact, we’re still Daytona-worthy). Work together, and you leave more time for play.
SHARE AN EDUCATION
Any journey, be it a relationship or a whirl through Wyoming, is a learning experience. So we brought dozens of books along, read them and discussed them – The Grapes of Wrath in California, A River Runs Through It in Montana, To Kill A Mockingbird in Alabama. We stopped at the Civil Rights Museum in Memphis, the Route 66 Museum in Oklahoma, the Holocaust Museum in Washington, D.C. We found that by learning together, by pursuing knowledge jointly, we increased our respect for one another and multiplied our shared interests.
SET A COURSE FOR WHIMSY
Life is too short to shy away from arbitrary adventure. Celebrate the spur of the moment. Go for the goofy. We stopped at the World’s Largest Garage Sale in Stone Mountain, Georgia. We took a 45-minute detour just so we could hit a corner of Nebraska and say we hit all 48 states. Nothing cements a partnership liked a shared bit of buffoonery. And sometimes what seem like awful decisions turn out just perfect. We spent Amy’s birthday rumbling through South Dakota, bombarded by a massive hailstorm and a swarm of grasshoppers. But when it was over, we looked over our shoulders to find a rainbow arching over the plains.
Best gift I ever got her.
Here's a photo taken in Love, Virginia:
It is the season of giving, and I have been on the receiving end of a good number of gifts while motoring cross-country in my RV to research my travel memoirs. In fact, I have a box of collectibles that means a lot to me. It is an odd assortment of souvenirs, but each item evokes memories of a different place or a different person.
Here’s what I have in it:
- A shoulder patch from the Cassandra Volunteer Fire Department in Cambria County, Pennsylvania (“Protecting the Mainline”)
- A set of hand-drawn wildlife postcards from an artist and fiddler who raises Maine Coon cats in Siberia, Maine
- A “Cargill AgHorizons” cap from a grain elevator in Vienna, South Dakota
- A cassette of polka favorites from a member of the Prague Czech Brass Band in Nebraska
- A small metal sculpture that spells out the word VINING (from a sculptor in the Minnesota hamlet of that name)
- An event program from the Greenwich Rotary Truck & Tractor Pull in Ohio
- Stationery from an elementary school in Mecca (California) and a high school in Bagdad (Arizona)
- A mail routing slip postmarked from Jerusalem (Arkansas)
- A city flag from Cairo, Illinois
- A strand of “japa” beads from a Hare Krishna commune in West Virginia
- A gate pass from a nudist RV campground (it was book research!) near the Hudson River in New York
- A POW-MIA sticker (“Bring Them Home”) from a woman in Lemoore (California) whose husband was shot down over Laos in 1972
- An eagle feather given to me by a fascinating lady of Delaware Indian heritage who lives in Pennsylvania’s Endless Mountains.
- A book of matches announcing, “WARM BEER… LOUSY FOOD… INDOOR POOL” from a tavern – the London Depot – in Wisconsin
- A postcard from the hamlet of Nothing, Arizona (population 4)
Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “The greatest gift is a portion of thyself.” As a whole, the collective items represent a fascinating cross-section of America. And it motivates me to explore some more, so it’s the gift that keeps on giving.
We’ve been collectors on this RV trip – seashells, refrigerator magnets, humorous church marquee sayings. And one more thing: Goofy restaurant names.
It started when we ate lunch at The Pfunky Griddle in Berry Hill, Tennessee. It’s a whimsical place where you can actually cook your own pancakes at the table, topping them with your choice of flavors (we opted for granola, bananas, blueberries… and M&Ms). But I liked the name, too.
So I started collecting. And as our summer journey approaches an end, I can now present my top 10 goofiest (or perhaps cleverest) restaurant names (Pfunky Griddle excepted):
- Mulletville Restaurant (Matlatcha, Florida)
- Oink (Mount Pleasant, South Carolina)
- The Working Cow (Cape Coral, Florida)
- Grounds for Expression Coffee (Goldsboro, NC)
- Lobster Monster (Marathon, Florida)
- Cock of the Walk (Nashville, Tennessee)
- Po’ Folks – Seafood, Chicken and So Forth (Panama City, Florida)
- The Table is Bread (Baton Rouge, Louisiana)
- Three Fat Guys Pizza (East Peoria, Illinois)
- That Place on 98 (on Highway 98 in Eastpoint, Florida)
I have to say, though, that the strangest name for a restaurant may belong to another place in Baton Rouge. It doesn’t sound incongruous – it’s called Chateau Rouge – until you realize that it doesn’t serve French cuisine. It’s an Asian restaurant.
