I’m always up for a road trip. There’s no feeling quite like hitting the open road in a car, the excitement of rolling miles away, the escape out of town, the change of perspective, music playing, scenery changing and open, endless road stretched out in front of you. There’s something about a road trip that inspires contemplation and a fresh view on life.
Now, some people might not label a road trip to Florida as much of an adventure. And, relatively speaking, it’s not that exotic.
Still, it checks the boxes for my definition of adventure: it’s an activity out of the ordinary; it holds a degree of risk (if you’ve driven on the Florida freeways, you know what I’m talking about; it certainly involves movement, literally in this case; and it includes a modicum of overcoming challenge.
Like some of the best adventures, my most recent road trip to Florida was borne out of necessity and urgency. My son, Elliot, who lives and works in Key Largo, was the victim of a hit-and-run rear-end car accident (his car was rear-ended; see above re: Florida drivers). As an unfortunate result, his old car was totaled; that is, not worth the expense of the body work it would take to fix it. So he needed a car, and his mother happened to be considering buying a new car anyway. So I volunteered to drive her Nissan down to Florida for Elliot to use.
This was an impromptu trip, and I opted not to take time away from work in order to do it. That meant I had very little time for the trip. Now, From Western Massachusetts, where I live, to Key Largo, at the very bottom of the state just where the string of keys begins, is about 1,600 miles. At a good pace, you’re talking about 24 hours of driving.
To avoid heavy Northeast traffic, I opted to leave at 7:30 p.m. on a Friday and drive through the night. It was a good move, as I whizzed through New York City and New Jersey, buzzed by Philadelphia, and cruised along the Washington, D.C. beltway, I-495. The drawback of night driving is the sacrifice of any scenery. It’s just you and the dark highway with shadows of trees and the moon’s glow keeping you company.
I crossed the border from Virginia into North Carolina at around 5 a.m., ready for a nap. I pulled into the first rest area I saw. Thankfully, I was piloting an SUV that had plenty of stretch-out room in the back, and I came prepared with my well-used sleep pad and sleeping bag. Slumber came quickly and lasted a solid hour and a half, all I needed to invigorate more hours on the road.
Six more hours of friendly, rural daylight driving (minus gas and food stops) brought me to the Georgia border with Florida, and a sign that let me know, to my disappointment, that I still had six more hours to go to the keys. Florida is a long, flat state.
The details of driving through Florida are murky. At some point along these straight, flat roads shooting due south, you glaze over the reedy, swampy inlets of swamp. Now and then the view is gorgeous, like when you catch the open sea off to the left and it beckons you. But you don’t want to become too enamored with these drivers speeding dangerously past at 90 miles per hour.
I navigated through Miami highways in mid-evening, hopped happily onto Route 1 out to the keys, and arrived at my son’s place in Key Largo around 9 p.m. Exhausted, but, thanks to caffeine, ready to take him out for a beer at his choice of venue.
I spent Sunday with Elliot and flew back Monday. A compact adventure, and mission accomplished.
Along the way I learned a few things, as one always does during adventures big and small. I learned that, for me, it doesn’t matter what mode of transportation I’m using to go from one place to another. Car, truck, bike, walking, hiking, running, boating. It’s all good. The movement is the key factor, and for some reason I am happiest when I’m moving. I can’t be the only one. I’ll continue to study this phenomenon and write more about it.
I also relearned, as I do every time I travel across this country, that the United States is diverse, often beautiful, and vast. One of my favorite aspects of traveling is observing the gradual and sudden changes in terrain, landscape and culture. Seeing how and where people live.
I returned from my road trip to Florida with freshened perspective, renewed energy and a few memories. That’s why we take adventures.