Why do I Love the Road?

As I embark on the trip to New Mexico and the Panhandle of Texas, I wonder why am I in love with the road?

It all started with gasoline. I was raised in an apartment building overlooking the Belt Parkway where one could look at the Atlantic Ocean and the Verazzano Bridge, which leads into Staten Island. Before going to school every morning, whenever a bus or vehicle passed by, I soaked in the wonderful odor of gasoline. For a long time I loved the smell. It injected me with a dose of energy and passion for the macadam. From there I went along road trips as the navigator looking to seek the next mile. "What comes after this exit?" was my mantra, trying to figure out what lied ahead. Whether I got out of the car by the salty Atlantic in Cape Cod, Massachusetts or the windy, anti-tupee climate of the Great Plains in Meade, Kansas, the road has always been in my blood.

My favorite terrains changed over the years. Originally, I loved the trees and its seclusiveess. Everytime my mom, sister and I went to Uncle Charlie's , who resides south of Bear Mountain in upstate New York, I would stare at the trees as we drove wondering, "what lies within." As my traveling experiences augmented I began to appreciate other terrains. In Arizona, for example, the drive between Flagstaff and Page on US 89 was majestic simply because of the plateaus. I could see them, yet knew they were very far away. After moving to Houston I began driving throughout Texas, where I found my current love, the Plains. While most may think it is flat and monotonous, I find beauty in the fact it is wide open causing me to feel free. In addition, the sunsets/sunrises are spectacular.

As Merle Haggard eloquently put it, "The Highway is my Home."