Road trip reflections

It has been over a month since I last sat down and wrote anything new here. It is difficult to believe so much — and, at the same time, so little — has happened in the interim. Just life, happening, I suppose. Now that I think about it, isn’t that pretty much the way most summers go?

The road trip was lovely. D. and I meandered down quite a few back roads. When those roads crossed middle Tennessee, I was delighted and astonished by her knowledge and memory of people, places and events. Traveling with her during those times was like having my own three-dimensional Fodor’s guide — in the best possible way.

One highlight came on the first day of our trip. We decided to leave I-81 and take Rt. 501, almost a back road, into Lynchburg, VA, for the night. The road we chose turned out to be a grand scale showcase for nature’s magnificence. We crossed the mountain and dropped down toward Lynchburg, taking pretty much the same path as a tumbling river beside the road, while the sun began drifting toward the horizon and trees filtered the light. Such sights fill the senses and remain in memory forever.

Most days combined a little sightseeing and visits with friends, a leisurely way to spend any vacation. Other days were spent retracing our family’s steps through Wartrace to Chattanooga, as well as points west and south. One Sunday, we attended a dear little church built on land donated 150 years ago by our family — many of whom are buried nearby. Lest anyone think we were on the trail of spiritual goodness only, I should mention that we also visited the Jack Daniels Distillery in nearby Lynchburg, TN :-) Basically, this was just a good old-fashioned road trip, combining a basic plan with lots of spur of the moment choices.

There is something deeply rewarding about a trip like this. Even so, it is not my normal vacation, I have to admit. I love grand adventures to faraway places — and am, in fact, planning just such a trip for next year. But there is something very special about revisiting the past. Moving forward is not an option; looking back, especially with someone who shares your family memories, is a gift.