Road Trip - Finally

I have been longing for a road-trip... I need just a car, a direction, and a companion or two. I relish the freedom of flying down the highway, or wending my way over sloping hill and around hairpin curves; the point, really, to escape the beautiful suburbia that we have made our home, that can stifle with its sameness. 

Today I got that need met.  We loaded the white car we've named Gandalf (or Gimli, depending on the need and mood) with bags, backpacks, groceries, one ginormous stuffed duck and three youngsters headed back to college.  And, a road-trip was born. 

We headed out of town on the highway, plenty of cars to keep us company.  The car was pretty silent, perhaps the "spring" forward was impacting everyone, perhaps the reality of back to school was overwhelming them.  At one point though, the road rose and the vista in front of us opened up; we saw mountains.  I gasped loudly and the car-full awoke.  The layers that spread out in front of us began with the dusty, tired, green-brown color of winter's last gasp.  Above that the blue that our mountains are famous for layered from a dark midnight up close, to a dusty cornflower further away.  A gray haze tinged yellow with sunlight spread over the mountains and into the sky. 

Our mood shifted, our DJ put on music (she selected classic 80s for the ride), the car hummed and buzzed for the next 6 hours as our heads spun to catch glimpses of such a different world.  Black cows, brown and white goats, short vanilla-colored sheep grazed nonchalantly, the red clay of Virginia lining their legs and underbellies.  A shout from the back directed us all towards the right, where the most beautiful white barn with a red roof and red trim stood proudly on the top of a hill.  A gesture from the front directed our eyes to the left side of the road and the gorgeous red brick home, four chimneys standing tall and white shutters balancing its facade.  Based on the chimneys, we agreed, this one must be from the late 1800's. 

Soon we left the Blue Ridge Mountain region of the state and headed East.  Over the tree-filled pass we flew on the twisty roads, watching for downed trees and root balls flipped into the air.  Small villages whipped by, framed by faded signs advertising the best apples and honey that could only be bought there.  We glided gently into the Piedmont region of Central Virginia where farms again dominated our views; we were all startled when we saw Civil War cannons on the side of the road and signs for the Battle of the Wilderness.  Houses lined the road and the battlefield memorial site, and I couldn't help but wonder how difficult it might be to live right there.

Our last one dropped of at his school, my husband and I optimistically turned the car north towards home and came to an immediate stop; hundreds of red brake lights glared at us, as if mocking the notion that we wanted to get home tonight.  The least enjoyable stretch of our road, no great vistas and lots of unfettered civilization, was going to be a haul.  We missed our companions for that last section, but made it home safely.