While you are reading this, I’m experiencing one of the most vexing problems of modern American society — a long-distance trip on the American system of interstate highways.
Truth be told, I don’t have to be doing it. It depends what you want to do. I have two grandchildren playing sports and it’s fun to watch them do it. More importantly, we’ve found some inexpensive vacation spots and they’re not in Indiana, so we have to drive or fly elsewhere.
You know that proverb that it’s not the destination, it’s the journey? No. It’s the destination. The journey, particularly if it involves more than two hours on an interstate highway, is nerve-wracking.
It’s particularly irritating right now because I’m trying to adjust to an entirely new rhythm of life. I’m taking things a little slower than I did before. I lived most of my adult life being aware of deadlines, and they are increasingly absent from my life these days. I try to live my life on an even keel, but if you want to crank up my inner Lewis Black, tailgate me for a mile or two while I’m traveling the speed limit.
I came across a report the other day on a group of California motorists who did something fascinating in 1993 — they drove the speed limit. They took to a highway and went 55 mph. Sammy Hagar may have made the song “I Can’t Drive 55” popular several years ago, but this particular group of “civil obedience” practitioners actually went out and did it one afternoon. They made a point by adhering to the letter of the law. I can only imagine the anger expressed by their fellow motorists. The way I see it, however, was that they had nothing to complain about. You’re going to call law enforcement on someone — in this case, several someones — who were obeying the law?
The way I see it, it’s what drivers are supposed to do. When I’m behind the wheel, I really don’t need the hassle and the expense of a speeding ticket.
I had an opportunity recently to think of driving on Germany’s Autobahn system of highways, where the speed limits are more advisory than they are actually enforced. However, if you exceed the advisory (which translates to 81 mph) and get in an accident, and you’re deemed to be at fault, you’ll have a major problem.
You know, a lot of people drive that way on this side of the pond.
A few weeks ago, my wife and I drove to Tampa, Fla. It was part of a two-week trip through the south, going through Kentucky, Tennessee, Georgia, and Florida. The speed limit on the road was 70, sometimes 65. The average actual speed on the road, however, was 75, often 80.
Our Jeep Compass has a feature that sounds an alarm when we hit 80 mph. When you’re trying to keep up with traffic, it’s easy to focus on what’s going on around you and take only an occasional glance at the speedometer. Suddenly, the warning sound goes off, telling you that you’re going too fast for what the authorities want and that you’re also going too fast for what you want.
Oops.
I’d like to say that this go-as-fast-as-you-can phenomena is geographical, and that when we got out of the southern states it was no longer applicable. Not at all. We crossed the Ohio River into Indiana and all the joy of Turn One at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway confronted us. Susan was driving. I’m not necessarily throwing her under the bus here because it also happened to me more than once, but I will say that she was a little more at ease keeping up with traffic than I was. I would try to read or to play a game on my phone, anything to occupy my mind. I couldn’t resist taking a peek every once in a while, however, and I found it disconcerting.
When we got the title to the Compass, she handled the financial matters — so her name is first on the registration. Therefore, she figures, it’s primarily her vehicle and I’m just along for the ride.
Sigh.
She also wants it known that our 3-year-old grandson refers to the Jeep as “Mamaw’s car.” I get the 2016 Chrysler 200, which is quite a step down. Liam calls it “Papaw’s car,” and that apparently settles matters. In other words, the 3-year-old is finding his place in the world as Master and Commander.
Mamaw and Papaw left Saturday for a six-day road trip and we intended to make the nearly nine-hour trip there in two nights and we further intend to make the entire trip back in one day later this week. I’ve borrowed a library book — “The Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory,” by Tim Alberta — to keep me distracted during my hours in the passenger seat.
We’re going to relax on this vacation. Getting there and back is when I’ll be a little nervous. I wonder if I can find a like-minded group of motorists at a rest stop to join us by going 70 mph. Fat chance.
So I’ll be unsettled during the trip there, take it easy while we’re there, and resume the white-knuckle portion of our trip as we drive back.
And then home, sweet home, where our temptation to drive 80 mph will be less, unless we’re on I-69.
Dave Schultz is a retired journalist and the former editor
of the News-Banner. He now lives in Fort Wayne.
