Davenport, Florida; LaVergne, Tennessee; Lakeside, Arizona; Santa Teresa, New Mexico; Guntersville, Alabama. I’m not on the road now; those towns aren’t rolling under my wheels. The names are rolling under my fingers as I key them into the spreadsheet files on which I’m keeping the books. I’m an owner/operator with a small fleet of trucks and drivers. As I sit in the office compiling expenses, paying bills and preparing the IFTA quarterly taxes, I sincerely wish I was somewhere else. I wish I was back behind the wheel of the big KW, rolling down the big road.

Yeah, some of the trips might have been a hassle – Atlanta by-pass traffic, I-75’s endless construction zones, pulling the mountains out west, and the ever present hurry-up-and-wait to be greeted by a thoroughly grumpy receiving or shipping office. Oh, and did I mention the brokers? ‘Nuff said.

But all things considered, I’d rather be there than here. When I’m on the road, I’m free. I have time to think. I’m unfettered, unattached to a ringing telephone and unbothered by filling out paperwork for a stack of new regulations.

Those names I key in remind me of the trips that were mine. Santa Teresa brought me through Hatch, New Mexico – “the Chile capital of the world!”. It even has its own giant “muffler man” statue. Wherever I drive, I look for the unusual roadside attractions – those last remaining bits of pure Americana. You know, the buildings shaped like a giant donut, miniature Graceland, two-story outhouses and the 13-foot alligator. They’re out there. I love to leave the Interstate system and ride the old US system whenever possible for the chance sighting of giant dinosaurs. In-between sightings though, it’s the solitude and peace of the open road that lures me. I stand alone and I love it.