Thinking back, it was difficult to untangle the myriad of road trips that Hilary had made in her life. There were the family holidays, when she was corralled into the back seat of the car with her siblings. It was so hot that they did their best to avoid touching each other, or cold enough to happily share blankets as the miles passed by. Most of these trips were to visit family in the central west of the state, and it was such a well-worn route that as kids they could rattle off the long list of main towns and stops along the way.
When she was old enough to drive, it was the coastal road trips that appealed to Hilary. Driving with family or friends, there was nothing quite like that first glimpse of the ocean, of rolling down the window to suck in deep gulps of briny air. It was intoxicating to see the curving sweep of sandy beaches, and the way the ocean seemed to reach all the way to the horizon.
Some road trips were almost random in nature. A vague destination and no pressing time commitments allowed scope for detours. It was on these rambling trips that some of the best discoveries were made, simply by following a sign to a place that sounded interesting, or by getting a bit muddled along the way. If you were lucky, there would be a bemused local who could point you in the right direction, or suggest other hidden gems that were worthy of checking out.
There were other trips over the years that were more structured. Hilary could see the merit in both approaches, but some of her travelling companions were insistent on having a schedule and knowing exactly where they would be sleeping each night. An upside to this was the schedule-driven road trippers were usually well researched, and loved to share things that they had learned in their preparation for the trip. They tended to have lists of things that had to be seen or experienced, and it was easy enough to go along with them.
As she travelled through towns, big and small, Hilary would daydream about what it might be like to live there. Not all places appealed, but occasionally, there was something about a town that resonated with her, as if there was a connection waiting to be realised. A chance encounter with another traveller, or a local, could make her see or appreciate things a little differently, and sporadically these places would appear in her thoughts, months, or even years later. They’d left an imprint on her heart and mind, capturing a moment.
I’m participating in this blogging challenge for the month of January, which supports starting the year on the “write” track. You can find other posts with #bloganuary and join in the challenge.
Photo: an old Holden sign at Portland, NSW
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