“Thanks to the Interstate Highway System, it is now possible to travel from coast to coast without seeing anything.” – Charles Kuralt
I’ve traveled every single inch of I-65, and that’s the only interstate for which I can say that (excluding spurs and bypasses). I love interstate travel. I continue to be amazed at the predictable, reliable results it delivers. I love the mile markers ticking off. I love determining an arrival time based on average speed—figuring stops, and weather, and whatever—all stuff with which I mentally entertained myself long before a $100 GPS receiver made it trivially easy.
I also hate interstate travel, for exactly those same reasons. What do you do? What do you see? Yay, Stuckey’s! (You know, I suppose.)
But for every bit of its length, I-65 periodically intersects with U.S. 31. Sometimes I think about taking some time off and driving to Canada on 31. It’d be a fun thing to do with a vacation, would it not? Just leave without any sort of plan, and have an old-school road trip, doing whatever hits your fancy along the way? (I think I’ll keep the electronic ignition and microprocessor-controlled combustion of a modern car, though, so I wouldn’t quite be kicking it old school authentically.) I bet I could get some killer geocaching done.
Perhaps it will be a guys’ trip I take sometime, as Lea generally likes a vacation to include immediate proximity to an ocean.