Thursday, July 15, 2010
Travel to me should include at least 3 hours in the car listening to country music and at least one stop along the way for ice cream. Driving in the Midwest summer with the big blue sky ahead of you, puffy cumulous clouds lazing on the horizon, beckoning you to keep the pedal down, Brad Paisley singing sappy songs about lost love and new love, “ah, the good life.” This is my idea of travel. None of this hustle and bustle in the airport with people in their dark, tailored work clothes talking on their cell phones emitting “important person” from their brisk walk and commanding voice. None of those Beijing taxis with the windows open, refusing to turn on their air conditioner to save a few Chinese ren min bi as you swelter in the backseat. No more winding rides in the back of 13 person vans on roads that wouldn’t pass any kind of state approval even in the Ozarks of Arkansas.