“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one’s lifetime.”
― Mark Twain

Whether you are a seasoned traveler or just a once in a while road tripper, vacations require a certain amount of preparation. In the days of covered wagons, it was a daily task. The chore of setting up and breaking camp was almost as cumbersome as the roads they traveled. Talk about road construction – there weren’t any roads to reconstruct. Can you imagine what it was like in those early days of our country’s history? Each day a new adventure. Each moment filled with terror of being attacked by animals, disease or hostile tribes. Each second consisted of sore muscles, dirty clothes, smelly bodies, same old, same old diet and never knowing what was to come at the next turn. Today we have it made with modern transportation, adequate temporary housing, continental breakfasts and a GPS to guide your adventure.

The last road trip we took was five years ago when we attended our grandson’s graduation in South Carolina. I vowed at that time, never again! My road warrior husband has always been a good driver, obeying all the rules, but even he was an exposed, raw nerve by the time we reached our destination. Me, with my hearing problems and he with his ever-constant conversation (he should’ve been a travel guide,) made for some interesting discussions. Picture yourself, sandwiched between two semis on either side of your vehicle, along with one in front and one behind.  You’re traveling without any view of scenery at between 70 and 80 MPH, wondering who would be tagged for the speeding violation if you were stopped.

When you eventually break free of the semi-sandwich, your tensions release and you drive in earnest for at least ten hours each day.  At first the highway seems great, as you pack on the miles. It seems you’ll make your destination with time to spare.  Thank God, I wasn’t driving, or we’d still be in St. Paul, probably at the police station or a mental institution. It’s funny how folks are always telling you to travel when you retire. They never mention the difficulties of sitting in one position for 3 hours – or having to wait twenty minutes for a rest stop. They never tell you about getting on each other’s nerves – having different hunger times – the spats – the differences of opinion – not to mention the inability to communicate. It must’ve been the epitome of stress to have to ride in a covered wagon for miles and miles.

My traveling days have probably come to an end. We still take our weekly road trips, which consist of a ten-mile drive to a remote area with nature all around. A road less traveled is nice, because no one else on the road knows how to drive.