It's about the journey, not the destination, but faster!

Source

Well, there's nothing like self-induced pressure to get a post out of me. I commented on some of the driving posts from last week and that I may be inspired to share.  Not sure it's riveting entertainment, but it'll fill in for Sarge today I suppose.  Anyway, lots of random musings bouncing around my brain regarding this topic but I will attempt to make them somewhat coherent for everyone.  And besides, Sarge asked so nicely!

Licensed for going on 40 years now, driving for 42, so I definitely have some driving experiences of note over that time.  That's not necessarily unusual, as nobody drives for even a handful of years without having experienced something of note- be it tickets, accidents, or observing how crazy other drivers can be, but hopefully my stories can be interesting enough.   

Source

Spending 24 years in the Navy, I had several cross country moves- a couple to and from Florida for my first tour of duty at The Cradle of Naval Aviation- NAS Pensacola, and then when I did some Joint Duty at CENTCOM in Tampa.  Lots of miles, all characterized by a self-induced pressing need to get there in the shortest amount of time as possible.  For that first move from San Diego, it was Interstate 8 until Arizona, picking up I-10 all the rest of the way.  Lots of great places to stop and see some sights, but unless it was at a gas station right off the freeway, I never stopped.  San Diego to El Paso to Houston to Pensacola-  3 days, when I could have taken a full week or more on the Navy's dime.  What a waste of an opportunity.  I'm sure there was some roadside petrified dinosaur egg, or corn maze I missed, if not something better. Next trip, I promise!

1990 Ensign-mobile                                                        Source

During the Tampa PCS* move, I had kids and a wife in tow so the stops were a little longer.  We spent a few days in San Antonio to visit my dad, taking the kids to one of the Six Flags parks.  We also hit New Orleans for the French Quarter and beignets.  And P'Cola to show off the Naval Aviation Museum.  These too were rushed though, always with the final destination on my mind, vice the journey.

2001 Family Wagon (PAC Norwest and Tampa)                               Source

There was also a PCS move from San Diego to the PAC Northwest- Bremerton Washington for a disassociated sea tour on the USS Carl Vinson.  Since we have family in Southern Oregon, that drive up and down the length of California has been done more times than I can remember.  Even as a child as we'd visit our San Diego relatives for various weddings of my cousins, or the big family Thanksgiving at my Aunt's house.  

Those trips to visit family, or stopping for a day or so while "PCS-ing" aren't really vacations.  And when we did do something else, it was often just a 3 day weekend.  That led to us buying into the timeshare thing just as a way to "force" us into taking more time with family, and we're glad we did.  But this gas stop is over so back on the road blog.

I started driving before I was even legal. My dad let me practice a bit when I was 14, ahead of my getting a learner's permit.  And once I was competent enough, yet before I had a license, my parents trusted me to drive 9 miles up country roads in southern Oregon to the little town of Selma in order to pick up my younger siblings, who would get off of the bus after a  school sporting event. 

Mine didn't look nearly this good, especially after I wrecked it.                Source

I've always thought of myself as a good driver, but I'm not sure my record completely backs that up. I was given a 1971 Ford Maverick for my 16th birthday, the same day I got my driver's license. I was given the car not so much as a reward or present, which of course it was, but also so that I would then be responsible for transporting my two younger siblings to school, and getting myself to/from various activities.  Unfortunately it didn't last long.  Just two or three weeks later I had a blowout, and was inexperienced enough to get myself into a wreck. The blowout caused the car to pull hard to the left, for which I overcorrected to the right, slamming into an embankment on the side of the road.  I bent the right front wheel underneath the car, which had unibody construction, so it was totaled. 

A couple years later I was driving back from a girlfriend's house, and while the speed limit was 55, I was doing 67, and got my first ticket at 18 years old. I wouldn't get my next one until I had the aforementioned wife and two children, as we were driving down the scenic 395 from Lake Tahoe back to SoCal.  I was again 12 miles over the limit, this time pacing another car.  However, only 1 of us got pulled over.  I had no chance of talking myself out of this one since the CHP asked for my license and registration, then walked away, returning with the ticket- no chance for pleasantries, no asking if I knew how fast I was going, no nothing.  He must have had a quota to meet, or he didn't like my 2012 campaign sticker for Mitt Romney.  I wouldn't be a fan of that sticker now either, since he's tuned out to be quite the RINO, but I no longer have that 2007 Toyota Tacoma anyway, trading it in for my 2017 Mustang.

Plenty of Scout campouts in this vehicle                                    Source

I don't know if you've been paying attention, but today's Gen Z kid doesn't seem to have the same interest that we did in getting their license as fast as possible.  The freedom it gave me was wonderful.  As I mentioned, I grew up nine miles from the nearest store, two of that up a dirt road, in the mountains of Southern Oregon (after moving from SoCal).  Having a license, and later a car, allowed me a level of freedom that was unavailable to me before that.  Weekends were always spent at home unless there was a school sporting activity I was involved in.  While I was a voracious reader, it was a fairly boring upbringing before having wheels.

Source

When I started my sophomore year in college I drove myself down from Southern Oregon to San Diego in a 1971 Volkswagen beetle, my third 1971 vehicle in a row, with a very beat-up Toyota pickup in that mix.  That pickup followed the Maverick a couple years later, but one that lasted only until the head gasket blew and the head cracked.

Source

A couple of those drives to and from Southern Oregon during college were a bit challenging, as the Siskiyou Pass at the border of California and Oregon would often be closed for snow, or it required chains.  One of those times I took the coast route, adding a half a day's drive to the trip, cutting back to Interstate 5 somewhere north of San Francisco.  The Northern California coast is a beautiful drive, but one I didn't necessarily appreciate back then- again, focusing on just getting back.  However, but the last time I drove it it was quite hairy.  It was another Christmas visit to see family, and we decided to make the return trip a little more of a vacation, thinking we would stop and see things along the way.  However, most everything was closed as this was New Year's Day 2021, and COVID was still in effect.  But the scenic drive was something we were interested in nevertheless.  However, we had to move up that return trip when my wife got COVID and we had to evacuate her sister's house ASAP.  She has an immuno-compromised son and we couldn't take the risk of getting him sick.  We had to leave in the late afternoon after she popped positive, so much of that first leg was spent in the dark in some miserable weather, with a storm making visibility a challenge.  I remember having to focus hard on the tail-lights of the car in front of me as we drove the narrow, winding, and hilly Hwy 101 as it hugs the coast.  We got to our stopping point sometime around 10 or 11:00 that night and I was glad to get off the road, having squeezed all the black out of the steering wheel over the last few hundred miles.

Pretty much the same, but it was wetter and much darker.                             Source

Now I'll admit that some rain and wind don't match the snowy Colorado mountains that Sarge experienced, but winter driving in Oregon can be tricky.  Since it rains so much, but the Winter temperatures can also fall below freezing, black-ice was a semi-frequent risk.  Driving my brother and sister to school in that 71 Toyota pickup and approaching a curve by a rain-swollen creek, I may have been driving a bit fast as I hit some ice and lost control.  We all survived, but I don't know how.  I truly believe there was some divine intervention as I did nothing but panic and hear my sister scream.  Next thing I knew we were through the curve and stopping at the next intersection.  I don't remember counter-steering, nor do I think I even knew what that was, but all of a sudden we were several hundred yards past where I lost control.  

The red circle is where I lost control and the direction of the slide sideways.  The green is where we were sliding, which was a steep bank into the creek (those trees weren't as prevalent from what I remember).  And the blue is where we somehow wound up.  My brother doesn't remember it at all, and my sister only faintly remembers the back end getting loose.  Some serious guardian angel work went on that day if you ask me.  I remember being full of adrenalin after that, and I was far more careful in the years that followed, with an absolute unquestioning belief in our Divine Creator.  

Yes, I like to drive fast, but now I'm not one to drive beyond the limits of the car, the conditions, or the traffic- just a bit higher than the posted speed limit sometimes, with one exception.  March or April 2020, driving to work during the "Two Weeks to Flatten the Curve" idiocracy.  The Military was exempt from the lockdown, and NOBODY was on the road, and I mean nobody, not a single solitary car.  It was a long straight part of the road on the very last mile of I-8 West here in San Diego.  I found out my Mustang will do 130mph easily.  I hit the number quickly, and even more quickly backed it down.  It was a thrill, but not one I feel the need to repeat.  As I mentioned in the comments last week, I have been stopped at least a half a dozen times, but except for the two tickets, was usually let off with a warning.  Being honest and respectful, and flashing that military ID if you can, seems to be the key.  

Well, that's enough of a post for today.  See you on the road.  I promise I won't blow your doors off.

*PCS- it's been explained here before, but Permanent Change of Station- and by permanent, it just means not TDY/TAD (temp duty).   Sarge probably has an acronym page on the right margin.