It’s the middle of June, and we still haven’t decided where we’re going for the summer road trip. It feels odd. In all our previous road trips, the decision would have been made months ago, and by now I would have accumulated a stack of state/provincial tourism pamphlets and maps.
Originally, we’d thought of going to Newfoundland again. There’s just something about it that calls us back. We want the next visit there to be more leisurely; three weeks on the Rock sounds about right. But finances are still what they are, so we’ve shelved it until we can do it right.
We sit in bed in the morning, sipping our coffee and looking out over the city, and talk about which direction to take to escape it for a while.
South sounds intriguing. We’ve never gone in that direction, have not yet ridden the Blue Ridge Parkway yet, or Deal’s Gap. Truthfully, the thought of riding the Tail of the Dragon (318 curves in 11 miles) makes me nervous. And excited. But mostly nervous. I think if I could ride it when there is NO ONE else around, I’d be a lot less nervous.
Not only is there the lure of the unknown to bring us South, there are friends a-plenty (too many to link) who I know would greet us with hugs should we pull into their driveways. Oh, and I could get my chicken fried steak fix if we headed South, that’s for damn sure.
However, there’s the issue of southern summer heat and riding. We found out during the run to the Grand Canyon in August that leathers + 90 degree heat = “holy smokin’ assholes, it’s hot!”. Further morning conversations will determine if the need to go somewhere unknown and unridden will outweigh the desire not to melt.
East is another option; through the dark green lusciousness of the Adirondacks and the White Mountains to the bracing ocean breezes of the Gaspe. Mmmm….poutine and tarte au sucre!
Or there’s West, heading around the Great Lakes to visit friends and stop at Betty’s Pies then curving up and back along Superior’s North Shore. There’s something about the run from Thunder Bay to Sudbury that always feels like home, the rocks and trees and lakes of the Canadian Shield reminding me of childhood summer vacations. It’s a hop-skip-and-a-jump from Sudbury to the magic of Manitoulin.
I am getting to the point where it doesn’t matter which direction we go in, as long as we go. Nothing else blows away the crap that lodges itself in my gray matter like a few days on the road, unplugged and without a schedule.


