Traveling Forward to the Past

Memory Lanes keep us going.

My sister in Georgia offered an opportunity I couldn’t refuse…house and cat sit for two weeks while they were in Italy. She offered to pay for my flights…but it was a last-minute invite; fares were too pricey. “I’ll drive,” I said, liking the flexibility to take my time, pack as much as I want and getting to see my grandkids who live near her.

Two cats get along, one does not…he lives in the basement. Besides food, water and clean litter, I had to keep them separated.

I’ve done this drive many times. A passenger mostly during the years my husband drove the whole way back and forth to Michigan. If we were going to see my parents first, we’d take 75; timing it right for a late lunch at Skyline Chili in Cincinnati. He’d order two hot dogs with everything, me just one, plain. “It’s part of the experience,” he’d whisper, sitting us down at the bar where the servers scurried past. Noticing his wife nibbling daintily on a naked dog was “sooooo embarrassing,” he’d hiss. It helped that I raved about the orange soda.

Our other route when visiting his folks was 65 to 69 through Tennessee, western Kentucky and Indiana. It seemed shorter, less mountain driving, more places to get off and explore. Either way, we’d have to get through Chattanooga; a fun place to visit, but not drive through. We used paper maps and old notes recalling landmarks, places we liked to eat, stop and rest a bit.

So, when widowhood came, I had to figure out how to do this journey on my own. I wanted to be back in Michigan where our story started. It was an early Sunday morning the first of August…after the farewell dinners and long goodbyes, I hit the road. I knew the interstate signs; I remembered to get gas before the gauge got too low. I texted my kids when I stopped so they knew where I was. Approaching the Indianapolis interchange, I got confused, I got flustered, I got lost. Where to get off? Didn’t want Cinci, didn’t want Chicago, Peoria? Where’s Peoria I wondered as I got off to breathe again. I was going west and it needed to be north. Bless Indiana state roads and kind strangers. With my daughter calling to check in, I nonchalantly told her I was on blue highways…what Jim called back roads…and all was well. I was on Hwy 9, then 15, then 13 all going north into the unknown. How far is Michigan I asked employees at gas stations, Cracker Barrels, drug stores. Get to Middlebury they all said. And there, among the Amish travelers tying up their horses…I heard the magic number…131! Michigan’s 131 would take me directly to my new home.

Nowadays, staying out a couple nights seems wise as I grow along. I discovered avoid highways on google maps, then on my car navigation. Woo Hoo…a new adventure to Georgia this time. Adds a couple hours but I have the time, no hurry. I drove through Indiana small towns, aggie land and a farmer’s path straight to my motel in Edinburgh.

I filled the tank with gas before checking in; my tummy the next morning with breakfast and got going on interstate 65 by mid-morning. Anxiety soon kicked in as I crossed the Kentucky bridge; breathing again as I got outta Louisville; then that long stretch through Nashville that never ends. Finally, onto 24 and to my favorite Murfreesboro motel. The gas station first, then it’s 5:00 somewhere! I always choose Hilton Garden Inns with a restaurant and bar on site. That’s my favorite little secret! 😉I ask for low floors to use the stairs, walk the halls or parking lot to get my steps in.

The next day I timed Chattanooga for 9:30ish…low traffic and a breeze to get through to Georgia now that they’ve reworked the interchange. After several miles on 75, I was done, too fast for me. I got off, switched to avoid highways and zig-zagged through narrow roads, construction detours and a million roundabouts straight to sis’s house!

🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔

I have no idea what I had in mind for this post. I started it way before my trip with Thelma. It’s been sitting in draft land waiting for a finish. Stuck on the travel, no mention of the kitties or kiddos. It sounds like an ode to Indiana. Or maybe a shout-out to old lady solo drivers. I think it’s about the journeys I shared with Jim. All the times we’d go see our parents, visit our kids who went to Michigan colleges, gatherings with old friends…his newspaper gang, my high school girlfriends. Heading back for graduations, marriages, funerals.

We had a special closeness on those car trips, laughing and singing along to songs, stopping on a whim in Seymour once to find John Mellencamp’s little pink houses. We’d hold hands sometimes; have those discussions you can only have when looking straight ahead.

Talk about a story with no plot! I didn’t set out to finish this way…can you see how grief creeps in so easily. I love driving and I’m still confident on my own. I talk to him; telling how things have changed, how the old two-lane roads we’d take are now four lanes. That the Pizza King on that corner near the gas station is still in business, how we used to love coming around country curves to see horses grazing, getting stuck behind farm equipment not so much. I thank him for keeping me safe, for a green light when I need it, for the traffic back up not taking too long. Miss you, babe.

Scrapbook pic from early 90’s, when curly perms were a thing. I kept all his notes.

Thank you for reading all this, even though I lost my way. I started this morning and just kept writing. Appreciate you all, dear friends. Shout-out to my newest subscribers and to all who follow me. I have a new coupon for you…$35 forever if you wish to support my writing, keep me motivated!

Be well, be happy, be kind! ❤️ Joanie/Joan