On the road again

I’m up early this morning. I have to hit the road in a bit. That was a regular phrase in past days around here. Now, not so much. Where I used to travel several days a week, now it is more like several days a year. Today's trip will be a quick jaunt to Chicago and back. The term “quick” is relative anytime you have to deal with Chicagoland traffic. This time I’m heading right downtown to the loop, so I will also have to deal with parking. Even worse, once I arrive I will have to deal with government officials to get an emergency passport renewal. I pray for patience. 

I don’t mind traveling, but I cannot say I miss it. I’ve been all over the world and the US, but at some point it is another hotel room on the industrial side of town. It is another fast food lunch or dinner by myself in a nondescript chain restaurant. 

I really do not miss flying. If I never stepped foot in an airport again I would be content. I’ve flown in the neighborhood of one thousand flights. That is fewer than some road warriors, more than most people. I’ve spent more hours in the Charlotte, Philadelphia, and Portland airports than you can imagine. Let’s not even discuss the abominations that are O’Hare or the New York area airports. Alas, I’ll be flying again at the end of the month. So it goes.

Lest you think this is a big complaint fest, I have loved my life on the road. I like driving in the car by myself as the asphalt sings under my tires, watching the corn and bean fields pass through my windshield. The small towns and highways are the true heart of America. The interstate gets me where I need to be quickly. It gets me through the cities with the least hassle. It is the lonely old US Highways and state routes that call me. That, I miss. 

But I really like being home for supper with my wife every night.