Debby Does…

From our earliest dating days, Jim and I have loved road trips. After dating only about two months, we road tripped from Iron Mountain, Michigan, in the Upper Peninsula, through OshKosh, Wisconsin (because I had to buy overalls there), and back down to Bloomington, Indiana, where we now reside, 32 years later. We have always had an easy companionability in the car, with dogs or without, whether talking or silent, but always with superior road snacks. Jim, regardless of the trip, never fails to mention his love of the “Fixin’s bar” at Roy Rogers and begs to stop at each one. I’m pretty sure he’s just baiting me since usually he’s driving and could stop anywhere he wants.

I can remember driving back and forth from home to college or college to home with a previous boyfriend. He begrudged me every single bathroom stop along the way, making me feel as though I was costing us something far more valuable than my comfort and well being. We sent him packing.

Even better than the well planned road trip, in my mind, is the Sunday drive, although you can do it on Saturday or even Wednesday, if you want. The goal is to get lost, stumble upon new spots, and recognize that there’s “life outside your apartment.” New roads, new vistas, and new possibilities await along the roads less traveled and even the ones just less traveled by you.

I’ve always known that I am an old soul in a younger body, but not so old that I don’t value change, progress, and evolution. It’s just that I like to do simple things. If I’m not happily cooking with Jim on the weekends, even in our makeshift kitchen, you’ll find us tooling around new small towns, checking out little farms or shops along the roadside, and laughing at the things we see along the way.

It’s never about the destination; it’s about the journey, the time spent, and how it makes me feel. I don’t need music to accompany the trip, though sometimes a well executed playlist is just the ticket. The Sunday drive doesn’t require snacks because we might stop for those! Doggies stay at home, and it’s just the two of us with absolutely no plan. Sometimes things are closed and sometimes we don’t find a darn thing worth stopping for, but that doesn’t make it a bust.

Being in a new place opens up so many opportunities for those Sunday drives! It’s nice to look ahead at these coming weekends and know that we’ll have time to hop in the car and drive until we want to go home. We’ll buy knick knacks, browse antiquities, and sample all the custard we find. I’ll believe that your corn is the sweetest and pick up a few ears for the coming week. I’ll comment on what stunning crops have been planted and pay special attention to that “nice wash” hung on the line. I’ll wonder how many abandoned mobile homes is too many in a yard and shake my head at grammar and spelling on handmade signs. I’ll ooh and ahh over stunning gardens and smile at those neat as a pin houses where someone’s nanny and pop live. I’ll wonder who lives in the sweet Indiana bungalows and farm houses that we pass and if they have a dog or a pony or goats. That’s the Sunday drive vibe.

There’s no agenda, no beginning or end in mind. Eventually, we’ll notice we’re heading towards home and start to look forward to putting dinner together and settling in for the evening. It’s not high tech; it’s definitely not bougie; but it is good for the soul and quiets the brain’s anxiety racket, which is never a bad thing.

I’m happy to have a companion who’s always willing to take the wheel, pull over for my every whim, and put his hand on my knee as we make our way. It’s the Sunday drive, and I’m here for it.