Road Trips

I started talking about taking a road trip in our convertible last spring. I thought it would be a good way to say goodbye to our red roadster since we’d decided to pare down to one car and economize. We rarely both need the car at the same time. The Solara is bright red and kind of flashy, while the Prius is clearly the more practical vehicle, even if it is a somber gray. Time to buckle down and face the fact that we’re not teenagers anymore.

We planned to drive east, swing up to Michigan for a day, across to Massachusetts, down to New Jersey, up to Connecticut, down to New York, over just a little to Virginia Beach and end up in North Carolina. As the trip grew from two to three weeks, I realized we’d planned the kind of trip Ben would have created, saying no big deal, what’s another 400 miles north or south. When he was well, he’d throw a bag in the trunk and take off to see a friend, camp in the mountains, ski down a hill. Those last few years, he traveled more by car, plane and train than most manage in 50 years. Maybe I wanted to have a taste of what he enjoyed so much.

We spent a few days with friends we've known forever and then a few more watching our grown up grandchildren swim and play tennis. Those last few days before we headed home were filled with toddler grandchildren's giggles and sloppy kisses. In between, stopping points coincided with ALS patients, many of whom are taking Iplex. We talked about how they were doing and what effects they’d noticed. Mostly we soaked up the sun, shared a meal and spent time relaxing together. Connected by a heartless disease and yet, there we were, enjoying our friendship, sharing a joke, talking about politics and sports. An unexpected but most appreciated blessing.

And then one sunny afternoon, driving along the beach, we both said, “let’s keep the convertible.” Maybe it’s a wish to recapture what’s been lost or to avoid looking straight into the future. All I know is those three weeks were just what we needed.