Nomadic Narrative

Driving takes on a whole new meaning in Southern California. Beyond a means to an end, driving is a recreational activity. “Let’s go for a drive” rolls off of the tongue as easily as “let’s go for a bike ride.” From two-lane coastal routes to six-lane freeways, smooth roads and overall adherence to traffic laws allow for a kind of passive sightseeing.
Driving is anything but recreational in most of Central America where I’ve spent the past two years. Instead of a means to an end, it might be best defined as a “sport.” Hands grip the steering wheel and the gear shift while feet flex and cramp against the pedals. The urge to sit upright surpasses the desire to lean back and take in the scenery. Driving is a win-win competition with victories claimed when participants arrive safely to their destinations.

Setting off in the maxi-van this sunny morning, I cruise south on the infamous Highway 101. Virtually traffic-free, I share the road with other cars and bikers. Lending a bit of truth to the stereotypical SoCal image, the cobalt-blue Pacific frames manicured palms and homes topped with terracotta tiles. My right arm rests on the wheel as I gently tap the gas and brake pedal never exceeding the 40 mph speed limit. No rush.

Turning onto the freeway, speeds double along with my sense of freedom. Wide open spaces invite adventure like galloping horseback across an open field. The dry landscape reminiscent of an Old West movie set invites chance. Anything seems possible!

A road trip is an art form — embracing spontaneity you can paint your own unscripted adventure. The saying “it’s the journey as much as the destination” could not be truer on the road.

I have to admit that I have taken some pretty fun road trips in Central America! Read about part of my drive across Panama here.