We've put over a 100,000 miles on our car (which was new) in four years.
I've been from the edge of the Pacific to the borders of Massechusetts (Oh spell check help with me that one) and a significant amount of backtracking in between. Those who travel with me vary greatly and are often only the other motorists puttering away down this highway or that.
Travel offers a fascinating glimpse into the culture of a city, town, or even state especially if one takes the highway, freeways, and numerous other car-beaten roads towards their destinations. I really prefer driving to any other form of travel. It gives me time to think, reflect, and plan. It teaches me which cities are most dangerous to be trapped in during a natural disaster (Norfolk/Hampton Roads because bridges reflect the only way out; Jersey, again with the bridges; Phoenix--there are only a few ways out lest you own a vehicle with off-roading capabilities). Perhaps it is that every location has its own challenges. By driving them, I can really gage my chances for surival should I find myself within the parameters of any given hamlet. Weary but educated drivers will best know the layouts/grids of the lanes they zip down and the backroads offering desperate salvation in the looming visage of a gridlocked city.
But really, driving calms me. Zen-ifies my worries. I don't know how I would really (really) react to zombies or some other super-life-alterating-there-was-no-way-I-could-really-prepare-moment. If I have the opportunity to escape in that initial wavs (and yes, it will likely be a matter of resonance), a long, hard drive into "safety" will provide me with the much needed time to reconstruct my most likely damaged/shredded pysche.
How will you cope my hopeful readers?
tbc....
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