Cars Are For Travel

For fifty years or more I could identify automobiles we passed during highway travels by their shapes. Features were easily attributed to certain manufacturing companies, logos not necessarily identified. Over the years new companies entered the roadways, some lasted, some did not. As our travel widened to include out of state travel and entertaining lively offspring, identifying car brands wasn't enough of a challenge. So we graduated to learning license plates from different states which led to how many states we found that shared the highways on any given trip.

Over thousands of miles and millions of cars, watching license plates became such a habit that it is one entertaining part of any drive I now undertake. Between Corvallis, Oregon, and Stockton, California, I shared the freeways with folks from Maine to Florida, Illinois, and at least ten other states. In my story building mode, the scenarios of the occupants of those “foreign” cars depended upon the apparent age and type of clothing as well as how the vehicle was outfitted.

A pickup driven by a hair arm of a man with a muddy jeep in tow was a natural for a red neck wild tale. A slow moving long lined classy Lincoln driven by a white topped obviously aged gentleman with his passenger holding a road map close to her eyes told a special adventure story. A pony tail bobbing to an unheard music beat as a red sports car passed me brought many possible scenarios to mind. Once a handsome head of hair drove by in a Corvette that had my hormones dancing. Fortunately I had a long time in his wake during a traffic slow up in a construction zone to construct romantic scenarios. Or unfortunately as the case became. I had many plots ready for this one – until as the traffic picked up I passed and the heart throb leaned over to stamp out his cigarette. Yuck. Well I can write better personal habits for my heroes.

Many rest areas came to my rescue with picnic benches on which to rest my back and toilets to provide other conveniences. I marveled at the long sunlight hours but then I was farther west than I had been at home. Could that account for later sun down? I lost track of where I was because there were no roadsigns to alert me to the next town. Traffic was very heavy and not simply trucks transporting the world's goods. People were going places in a California hurry so I began to search for a place to stop to bathe and eat and rest for the night.

And so after a hot bath and an avocado, egg salad sandwich I enjoyed the sleep of the innocent while weird colored license plates danced in my head.

Naomi Sherer