Go on a road trip
and I have no hesitation in affirming that I have not the slightest intention of doing so. Here's why.
Scene: Somewhere in the western United States
The long straight open road, with a vast landscape rolling away in all directions. It's hot.The occasional truck thunders by in the opposite direction. You and your half-dozing companion pass through townships where the old folk sit on rockers and the gas is still delivered by an attendant. Radio stations flicker in and out of range. With a roar, a dozen gleaming motorcyclists pass you. The county sheriff hides behind a huge billboard hunting speeders but you're wise to his tricks. As dusk falls, you pull into a friendly motel, head on down to the nearby bar for a cool one and then on for a steak dinner at the diner.
Thelma and Louise plan their escape at the next table. Philip Marlowe is making discreet enquiries from the taciturn barman and a folded $20 bill changes hands. Jack Kerouac sits on a bar stool nursing a bourbon. William Burroughs and his attorney can be heard stumbling around outside looking for their stash. The door slams open and Clint Eastwood is framed against the last of the sunset, giving a little nod as he scans the room, chewing an unlit cheroot.
You turn to your companion
"Shall we stick around for a while?"
"That's cool, dude. And then we'll push on"
"Anywhere in particular?"
"Nope. We'll just hit the road and see..."
Scene: A busy 'A' road somewhere in Britain
"Darling, did you pack the raincoats, it's getting very dark and the weather forecast says floods are expected"
"I thought you did! I was trying to make you some sandwiches, you know the motorway services are closed"
"Damn. Oh, those bloody lorries overtaking, this road is becoming a nightmare, why didn't you find me a better route?"
"I used the satnav, didn't I? It's your fault for buying a cheap one. You should never have thrown out that atlas"
"Was that the sign for the turnoff? Can hardly see now through the rain. Oh, you sod, see that darling? That bloody van cut right in front. And he gave me two fingers."
"Well, don't drive so slowly then. When are we going to get there, my back's getting sore"
"Umm, maybe another couple of hours. There might be road works on the B348"
"And you're sure they got our reservation?"
"Well, I think so, only their website crashed on the last bit while I was giving them our credit card details"
"Oh, marvellous! When we finally get there, if we do get there, we'll be standing around while they say they've never heard of you but there's a nice little B & B ten miles down the road but we better hurry because they lock and bolt the doors at 8pm. Honestly, who in their right minds does a motoring holiday in England these days?"
Need I say more?