I remember as a kid being bored to death on long drives.  So my brothers and I would seek to remedy that with counting contests. To get a point you had to be the first to spot the agreed-on target and call it out: out-of-state plates, Studebakers, Jersey cows, Oliver tractors, and so forth.  You could win a round instantly, however, if you spotted what we chose to be the trumping item.  For a number of trips, it was a farmyard grindstone—which you now see mostly in antique shops.

[Jersey cow]

Well, what was a long drive back in the forties and fifties, is no longer a long drive.  Having just gotten back from covering 2000 miles in a week, alone, I know the potential for boredom well.  But seldom was I bored.  This is in large part due to two things: audio books and my interest in the natural world.

1950 Studebaker

Of the books, the most captivating—and long—was C. S. Lewis’ That Hideous Strength, the third in his science fiction trilogy (Out of the Silent Planet and Perelandra being the others).  I was amazed at how a book published in 1943 grows eerily more relevant with each new decade.

Cirrus clouds

Interest in God’s creation by itself is usually enough to keep me from highway boredom, but learning how to let it captivate me while racing through the landscape at 70 mph takes deliberation on my part.  I’ve set myself some goals: Learn how to recognize tree species by their shape, color, mature size, and foliage pattern; learn how to recognize birds by how they fly, by their silhouette, and by their habits and habitats; learn how to recognize wildflowers by their color en mass , height, and typical habitat; learn the names and natures of the different cloud forms and what they might be telling me about the weather; learn the typical farm crops of a region and what a field of each looks like in all stages of growth from sprout to harvest; learn the different species of cattle, horses, and other farm animals (a skill I’m a long way from mastering!); learn invasive plants by their form, color, and habitat; and, critical in a state that typically has more than 60,000 car/deer collisions each year, learn where deer might be seen—especially in the few hours around dusk when they’re moving from grazing to bedding down.

With all those objectives on my mind, every drive turns into an adventure—so much of an adventure that when I trip with Marge, she’ll do the driving (“For the safety of both of us,” she’ll say).  She knows driver types, traffic patterns, and potential road hazards like the back of her hand.  To her, a Hummer is a vehicle (one she’d like to have as the closest thing to the iron car she’s always felt she needed).  To me it’s the bird I’ve been trying to entice to my feeders. This, of course, makes for interesting road conversation.  If you had a recording of our in-car commentary, you’d think we were in different worlds.  But, in the end, you’d understand that it’s the perfect combination—one that’s been in existence for forty-three years!  The result in number of highway crashes?  Zero!

See you outdoors!

Dean