It was time, once again, to load the SUV to the hilt, and skim the black-top 1200 miles or more on our semi-annual road-trip to Michigan. It took me three hours to pack the car so that the five boxes of empty jars wouldn't rattle or break and that the coolers and overnight bags were accessible. Not to mention, I had to make sure the pillows weren't in our line of vision and the clothing, suitcases and various boxes of goodies were ingeniously arranged to make the long-haul to Michigan without incident. With Jayne at the wheel and with just enough room left to tilt the passenger seat back a bit, we hit the road. I'm mostly the traveling window-shopper, while Jayne battles the big-rigs along I-75. I do my fair share of driving, much to Jayne's chagrin since I drive her SUV like I drive my little VW. My only request is that it's not my turn to drive when it comes to Spaghetti Junction in Atlanta. That's not my idea of a road-trip; Spaghetti Junction tangles my brain.
Window-shopping on these jaunts to Michigan usually entails a running commentary on interesting or not so interesting sights as we try to maintain the speed limit along the highway. We even have a little book called Along I-75 that highlights points of interest for almost every exit. It also alerts us to speed-traps and restaurants not to pass up. I'll narrate the drive with Outlet mall sightings and give a verbal run-down of all the stores that are lined-up cookie-cutter style. An occasional "moo" will escape my lips as we pass farms, or "ewww" when the road-kill is too much to bear (or should I say deer...we must have encountered 3-dozen dead dear, most of which were in Michigan). My focus this year was to find the cheapest gas. Just when we think we've found it, pull off, fill-up and take off again, the next gas sign boasts cheaper prices. This only happened a few times, however, but each time it does, we felt gypped.
Usually we stop at the Russell Stover candy outlet, but this time, we were "good". Instead, we stopped for Georgia peaches, Vidalia onions and watermelon at one roadside stand. When we first started along I-75, we noticed several tattered and torn pickups loaded to the nines with musk melon and mangoes. One truck we kept passing all through Florida and Georgia. I commented that we needed to follow that truck because when he gets off I wanted to buy some mangoes from him. Sure enough, we coincidentally found ourselves fueling up at the same gas station as one of these pickups and sure enough, I bought a delicious mango from him. Jayne dispises cantaloupes. Even the smell of them disgust her, so I spared her the agony of driving all the way to Michigan with the musky scent of a melon in the back seat. After we bought the Georgia peaches, every time we stopped, I would down one or two, allowing the sweet juices to liberally run down my chin and arms as I stood stooped over by the rear of the truck in absolute peach bliss.
One time, before we found the peach stand, I was looking for a snack and remembered I had a pear in the cooler. When it was my turn to drive, I thought I'd munch on it. Little did I realize how juicy this pear was going to be. The first few bits were just divine and then, I knew I was headed for trouble when the juices started to gush by just the fourth or fifth bite. Trying not to draw attention to myself by slurping too loudly; I didn't want to tick-off Jayne by dual-tasking - eating and driving along I-75 is not the brightest of ideas, let alone trying to navigate eating an outrageously juicy pear. By the time half of the pear was gone and the core was about to snap, so was Jayne, who was eyeing me from the passenger's seat, trying not to laugh. At that point, I started to giggle uncontrollably as the pear was getting messier and messier and the steering wheel was getting stickier and stickier. I mumbled, with a mouthful of pear, for a napkin while trying not to drip too much spittle from my giggle-filled face. Too late. I was in a tearful, giggle-fit, full throttle with a limp, dripping pear dangling from my sticky fingers on Jayne's recently detailed steering wheel. The white-lines on the highway were blurry from tears of laughter, and there was pear juice now dripping down my thighs; the giggles became uncontrollable, choking laughter. I'm thinking Jayne was amused..but just didn't show it. So much for a mid-day snack. I thought it was a better choice than Russell Stover, but apparently not. Our next stop was a real gem..but, I'll save that for another post. Stay-tuned.
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