I’ve decided that there are definite benefits to solo road trips – even if they only last an hour or two. Well, except for having to burn gasoline at nearly 4 bucks a gallon. Talk about liquid gold…
Uh…never mind. Let’s not talk about “liquid gold” – okay? Mostly because then I’d get all annoyed over the fact that gasoline is so flippin’ expensive these days. And I was talking about fun road trips.
What I like most about them is that I get to blast my car stereo and sing along to tunes I haven’t listened to in a while. Driving downtown to work every day and then back home again doesn’t really allow me to immerse myself in music. Mostly it allows me to growl at the slow traffic in front of me while keeping an ear pealed to the radio for the latest traffic update.
So when I drove back from
And, okay, so my singing sucks – but I gave myself extra points for loudness. Poor Frank and Sammy were probably rolling over in their graves and wondering how someone could mess up their song so badly.
No matter. It’s not like Randy Jackson or Steven Tyler or J-Lo were sitting in the backseat judging my performance. Nor did I worry about the drivers in the next lane either. It used to be if your fellow travelers caught you singing along to the radio, you had to look away a little sheepishly. And then you had to keep your warbling to a bare minimum – at least until that particular driver was well past you.
Nowadays, solo drivers’ mouths never stop moving. They’re either singing along to the tunes or eating or chatting on their cell phones. It’s hard to tell, sometimes, because they may be doing all three things simultaneously. And it has become so commonplace, it’s not really funny anymore when you see the driver in the next lane with his gums flappin’.
All in all, I’d have to say the best road trips are those when the temperature is warm enough that you aren’t hindered by either a winter coat or rain gear. And, if the sun is shining and you get to wear sunglasses, then it’s like a happy added bonus.
My recent road trip didn’t allow me to wear sunglasses. No, instead the windshield wipers never stopped scraping against my windshield. But I still had fun. And while my ear was ringing a little when I stumbled out of my car after the drive, I figured it was worth it.
Now, it’s not like this is the first road trip I’ve been on lately. It’s just that it’s the first SOLO road trip I’ve been on in a while. And, although I suppose I could act the same way if Vince or, say, my parents were in the car with me, I…
Oh, heck. Who am I kidding? There is NO WAY I’d act the same way if Vince or my parents were in the car with me. Vince and I don’t even usually have the radio on because we’re carrying on a conversation and are trying to hear each other.
And my parents? Well, they never turn on their radio. I’m not even sure they’ve ever pre-set any radio stations or know how to do it. Mom thinks pretty much any song played on the radio is just a bunch of “noise.” And we could be talkin’ Perry Como here, too, and not, like, say, some heavy metal band.
Vince has caught me in the past singing along to my iPod, which is just plain embarrassing. Isn’t that the worst? There you are boppin’ along to music only you can hear and you get carried away and start singing along. Badly. And out of tune. And it’s never more clearly evident than when someone is listening to you sing without benefit of musical accompaniment. I’m not even sure Lady Gaga would sound great under the same circumstances.
That’s why solo road trips are the best. Because It. Doesn’t. Matter.
And there is a certain joy in that.
So it’s not that I don’t appreciate road trips with my husband. Or even my parents. It’s just that I don’t get to sing like no one’s listening. Because they would be. And they’d probably tell me to shut up.