I'm about to type four words that will shock anyone who knows me:
I'm tired of driving.
That will particularly disappoint The Heir, who has always considered me The Road Warrior.
There was that time I drove 10hours from Birmingham to Dallas (roughly 630 miles) to pick up The Heir at my sisters' house, then after a quick dinner drove right back, all the way back to Birmingham.
The Trophy Wife still laughs at the time we drove back from Maryland, where we'd been to the funeral of her aunt just outside of Washington D.C., straight through to Birmingham - roughly 12 hours, something like 750 miles. Oh, she wanted to stop. We passed by towns where we had friends and relatives; numerous hotels and motels. And this was the final leg of a Christmas trip that had seen us drive from Birmingham to St. Louis (8 hours, right at 500 miles), then St. Louis to Maryland (about 14 hours, 850 miles - although we did stop overnight somewhere in West Virginia), then the aforementioned trip from Maryland to Birmingham.
I was just ready to get home.
The stop-over in West Virginia was funny, because it snowed like crazy. The kids were little and I'm not sure they'd ever seen snow that fresh and deep. In fact, The Heir and The Young Prince decided they wanted to run out into this field, but when they stepped off the parking lot, the Young Prince disappeared from view; turns out the snow was deeper than he was tall!
My single-mindedness in driving drives The Trophy Wife crazy. She learned that she'd practically have to stick a gun to my head to get me to stop for a bathroom break. My kids are almost afraid to ask me to stop. As I said, motels or meals where you actually had to stop and sit down to order food were anathema. Once I was behind the wheel, I was one with the car, the stereo, and the road. I could block out everything around me - including all conversation in the car between wife and children. I undoubtedly missed a lot.
I have some of my best ideas when driving, because I go way back inside my head. I come up with the solutions to so many problems (although I sometimes forget to act on those). I think about God, life, the universe ... everything.
Oh, and I do all the driving. I can't stand to ride.
There was a time when we were driving back from somewhere up in the North Carolina mountains, heading home from a family vacation, back to Birmingham (6 hours, 40 minutes; 400 miles), and The Trophy Wife was making comments about my driving, and in a rare fit of childishness, I pulled over to the side of the road, got out of the car, walked around to her side and told her she could drive.
Did I say 'rare fit of childishness?' Who am I kidding?
Anyway, that may have been the only time I willingly gave up driving. And while I don't remember, I'm betting she only drove to the next gas station, at which point I took back over.
Come to think of it, I doubt I've ever apologized for that fit of pique. I hereby apologize (which is probably as rare as my acts of childishness are not)
One time, because I was attending a seminar at the historic 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham on Urban Christianity that I didn't want to miss, I drove from Birmingham to Baton Rouge (6 hours, 400 miles) to cover a basketball game at LSU, wrote and filed my story, and immediately drove all the way back to be there for the first session at 8 a.m. the next morning.
I didn't actually drive straight through on that trip. I did stop at a Holiday Inn in Hattiesburg, MS., on the way back - sleeping for 45 minutes - and then was up and gone. I remember when I went down to check out, my registration card was still on the counter; the room clerk hadn't even filed it yet!
My dream vacation is to load up The Trophy Wife in a convertable and drive from Birmingham to Mount Rushmore, North Dakota - a mere 22 and a half driving hours, 1,450 miles, according to MapQuest
Needless to say, The Trophy Wife would prefer to fly and just meet me at various spots along the way.
I always thought I'd like to be a truck driver, except I don't want to drive a semi-truck; I prefer something smaller, with four wheels and no trailor. But a job where I got to drive, and expenses were covered?
Me and a car and the stereo and truck stop food = Heaven.
But this weekend got to me.
I drove from Gulfport, MS to Birmingham: five hours, 330 miles.
Then Birmingham to Charleston, SC: 7 hours, 30 minutes; 467 miles.
Charleston back to Birmingham, then Birmingham to Memphis, TN: 4 hours, 240 miles.
Memphis to Huntington, TN; 2 hours, 120 miles.
Huntington back to Memphis.
Memphis back to Birmingham.
Birmingham back to Gulfport.
It was over the span of five days, which should have been nothing for a real road warrior.
I hate to think I'm getting old. I mean, I know I am. It happens to all of us.
As Dirty Harry once said, A man has got to know his limitations.
I'm hoping all I need is a little break, and a good couple night's sleep. Because I don't know what I'd do without the call of the highway. I don't like to fly. I don't like boats. I don't like to take buses.
I drive.
But maybe just not the way I used to.
Like Toby Keith sang, "I'm not as good as I once was; but I'm as good once as I ever was."
I think.
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