road trip

Well, "road trip" may not actually be the correct term.

Yesterday, we were certainly on a trip -- and we were on the road.  But "road trip" evokes casual drives along back roads discovering quaint villages and local diners with authentic road food.

Our trip from Vancouver to Bend didn't quite fall into the misty Kerouac version of the American love affair with the automobile.  Our roads were primarily freeways and major highways interspersed with stops at gasoline stations to fill the car's tank and our stomachs -- as well as emptying aging bladders. 

At our ages, we no longer measure successful driving with "miles per gallon" calculations.  A more important metric is miles between wash rooms.

Seven hours of driving.  Not bad time for the distance we had to cover.

While we were underway, Nancy conducted two conference calls for her business.  Mobile telephones that provide internet hot spots for computers have revolutionized locations for business work.  The technology amazes me, but I am rather glad I escaped its ubiquitous reach when I retired seven years ago.

The trip would have made a perfect traditional road trip.  The roads pass through some of the most beautiful landscape in the world.  But the two cold sufferers were in no position to appreciate the grandeur of Mt. Jefferson.

I am typing this in bed at Nancy's mother's house at Eagle Crest near Redmond (the one in Oregon, not the Microsoft version in Washington).  Within a few hours I will be ensconced in my brother's house in Bend -- where I hope to kick the vestiges of this cold before I fly home to Mexico next week.

Between now and then, maybe I can create my own mini-road trips.