I am not a card-carrying member of NASCAR and as such, I was thoroughly unprepared this past Sunday to sit in all stop and no go traffic on I-80 on the way home from Pennsylvania.
At the prospect of a forever drive home, we pressed detour on the GPS, then pressed detour at least a half dozen more times and simultaneously searched for alternative routes on our smart phones.
An hour after we were due to be home, as we weaved through coal-mining towns and up and down hills throughout Pennsylvania, I was truly in awe of the bucolic beauty of these areas. I wondered what it might be like to live in the lone house surrounded by farmland or trees.
We stopped at McDonalds for dinner and “see the U.S.A. in your Chevrolet” was my chorus for the afternoon-which became evening which became late night-despite the fact that we were in a Honda.
I am in no way a proponent of fast food, but I can say that in our quest to make it home in less than twice the time it took us on the way there, it just felt right to grab a happy meal rather than a latte.