I just returned from a trip to Cincinnati OH where Miller Gallery www.millergallery.com is hosting a show of my work along with artist/illustrator Gary Kelley and British sculptor Mark Hall. The trip north from Orlando got old decades ago. Nine hundred miles of tedium on Interstate 75 punctuated by schedule-crippling traffic jams, (yes, I'm talking to you, Atlanta). And yet there are always beautiful places you never seemed to notice and memories to relive.
Compared to today's interstate sprints in hermetically sealed gps ipod sirius bluetooth and usb equipped SUV's, my childhood family trips from Florida to Kentucky were real adventures. Only a few segments of I-75 were complete for speed runs between congested 2 lane roads. And these roads led through every little town along the way. Cars weren't reliable like today, air conditioning was still for the wealthy, and fast food had not come to the backroads of the south.
While it's all freeway now, this week's trip was hampered by a landslide in the mountains of Tennesseee. All trafic was sent on a 40 mile detour, a winding two lane moutain road that parallelled a river valley with cool meadows and wonderful fresh smells. This was the road of my childhood trips. Mostly unchanged and probably wondering where I have been all these years.
No, I don't miss being carsick from swinging back and forth in the back seat for hours on end, and I have grown to expect the comfort of mediocre food at every interstate exit, but I do occasionally miss the beauty and mystery that makes up the blue highway. Aerosmith was right, or was it Emerson? Sometimes it's about the journey.