Road Trip

Every so often the urge strikes, the open road beckons. It's time for a "Roooad Triiiiip". The best ones have a destination in mind, but it's the journey that really counts. No timetables, no discernible schedule, no checkpoints, no reservations. Go where the urge strikes, stay as long as you like, see places off the beaten path, places that were names on a map for many, many years. Places that sometime you might want to see because friends or relatives said it was a good place to visit, they enjoyed it when they were there, many, many years ago.

So when the opportunity presents itself, the money is there, the time is there, it's time to pack up and go. So off I went. I saw the world's biggest pistachio nut, white sands, the largest, lankiest cowpoke, the biggest cross in the western hemisphere, a city with no skyline, and a leaning tower of water. It was Americana before the interstate highways (I always try to avoid the big highways as long as I can), relics of an emerging car culture long gone, not entirely forgotten, not entirely decrepit, still there for the discerning eye and the wandering heart. Cheap, clean motels devoid of luxury, providing a bed and a 19-inch TV, no coffee, no showercaps, small shampoos incapable of producing any semblance of suds, with a fragrance that dissipates within minutes, thin towels that have seen hundreds of washings. It was great!

I had a collection of CD's with me, compilation discs, one of my favorite hobbies. Didn't listen to them. Listened to radio stations the whole way, catching up on the local news and the local favorites. Country music is preponderant in Oklahoma (I woulda figured Texas, but not so). There was a smooth jazz station I could hear from border to border, out of OK City, nice!

As I neared my destination, I was getting road weary and a little anxious just to get there and get on with it, stay a few days, drink a few beers, sip some wine with family before hitting the road back. Another hour, hour-and-a-half, and I would be there. As I was passing through Fayetteville, AR, Swamp Music by Lynyrd Skynyrd came on. Off of their Second Helpings album (there wyrn't any CD's then), it was a song I never paid much attention to, not one of my favorites. I was rockin', we was rollin', and a whole new appreciation was born. I understood how tight this band really was. Seemingly discordant, every musician doing their own thing, meshing seamlessly and effortlessly, they knew each other, knew their moves, anticipated shifts and leads... they were on their game for this song. I dug through my CD's, knowing there was a Skynyrd compilation disc in there - found it! I hope I put that song on there - found it!

Imagine this - rolling through the rural countryside, two-lane highway, no one in front (heaven!), left everyone behind, one-and -a half hours of Swamp Music!!! It's my newest road song and what I turn to when the daily routine starts to overwhelm. Slap in that CD, "Turn it up", and out in the middle of nowhere I am. Oldies are Goodies.