A road trip (!) always deserves an exclamation point. That's because you don't wake up on a Saturday morning and, over coffee, casually mention,
"By the way, my deah, we're going on a road trrrip today."
"Oh, jolly good, me love, I'll pack a hamper."
No, a real Road Trip is announced like a stoned rock festival DJ introducing Led Zeppelin.
Where to go, where to go? That's the question and answer with a road trip. The answer is that it doesn't matter WHERE you go it only matters THAT you go. Pick a place. Anyplace.
We picked Needville, Texas. Southwest of Houston down state highway 36. What's in Needville? Who knows? Probably a feed store and a couple of Exxon stations. That would be my guess. Also a restaruant or two advertising the Best Catfish in Texas. And a nail parlor called Dorothy's Beauty Spot.
Just a guess.
So, we loaded up on coffee at Starbucks, consulted the map and headed down the highway with Steppenwolf blasting on the car stereo. Head out on the highway...looking for adventure...
We approached the outskirts of Needville.
Hmmm, must be a holiday. No sign of life. Very quiet.
Dorothy's Nail Repair, Tire Center and International Airport was closed. "No Flights Today," the sign read.
We pushed on.
After what seemed like an eternity, minutes later, we hit the outskirts of West Columbia, a veritable metropolois. We spied a Sonic, pulled in and feasted on Tater Tots, Foot Long God Knows Whats and Something Sweet and Fizzy on Ice.
Sated, we turned around, headed back up the highway and finally to home.
"Man, these road trips are murder!", I announced upon returning. Whereupon I reflected on the day.
I took a nap.