A Time to Talk: The road less traveled is the best road

Kathy O'Brien

A Time to Talk

I have an insatiable appetite to travel, to wander the back roads, to meet the people, walk the town and smell the culture. It’s constant; it never leaves me — no matter the season, no matter the weather.

Whether I’m in the car or walking, I always want to take a different road, a longer route, to uncover the undiscovered.

Why the curiosity? Why the compulsion? Why the obsession? I enjoy being home, yet the unknown taunts me and calls me to discovery.

I suppose my wanderlust originated from my childhood. My parents packed us into the car and we’d wander the back roads of Indiana.

Completely bored at the time, I’d sit in the back seat and try to read a book. Then one of my parents would yell, “Kathleen, put that book down and look out the window.”

Reluctantly, I’d put it away and gaze at the flat, brown countryside.

We’d venture into Amish country. Eventually, I’d become mesmerized by the Amish families as they rode along the dirt roads in their buggies. I was intrigued by the small farmhouses, which somehow survived without modern necessities.

I felt special, as if I had discovered a new culture, uniquely my own. I think that’s when I became hooked. Though I still grumbled about these Sunday drives, I secretly enjoyed them. As I grew older and had a family, I continued the tradition.

My own childhood resistance was replaced by my husband’s, and, eventually, my children. For the sake of this tradition, I endured the weekend moans and laments.

“No, not again.”

“Do we have to?”

Kicking and screaming, I would drag them on long odysseys through the countryside.

We explored the back roads before it became popular. We avoided the tourist destinations and stubbornly ventured out on our own.

Creating our own special sites, we perused the map for the dotted roads — the roads less traveled. At some point in the years that followed, my husband took the wheel. He said it was so he could keep us on track and ensure we did return home — eventually.

But I knew better; he was hooked, too.

Though I finally converted my husband, it took a little longer with the kids. But, I started to notice the signs. My youngest son stopped taking the direct way home. Sometimes he took a “back way.” Just for a change of scenery, he said. To get away from the traffic, he insisted.

My older son started taking road trips when he was in college. He said it was because all the kids did it, but I knew it was to carry on the tradition.

My daughter was so frustrated with me on a trip to Ireland that she made me pull over and wouldn’t get back in the car until I let her drive. She said it was because my “driving sucked” (that’s a direct quote), but I knew it was because she wanted to wander the back roads, to meet the people, walk the town and smell the culture.

I still take the road less traveled, even if that road takes me hours out of the way.

Though my husband has less enthusiasm for the hunt, I implore him, “Come on, let’s take the long way.”

He relents.

My kids also are now a little less enthusiastic: “Mom, is that the most direct way, or one of your ‘scenic routes?' "

It’s a tradition, I tell them. And one I’m proud to pass on.

A Time to Talk columnist Kathy O’Brien can be reached by e-mail at harborwriters@aol.com.