I recently re-read a brief essay called "The Highway," written by someone named Chris Jones and published in the December 2009 issue of Esquire. It's an evocative piece celebrating the hypnotic joy of an endless drive through the North Dakota prairies ... but he begins the essay as an unconvinced motorist, starting with an opening paragraph that's completely unreflective of the rest of the story. It made me smile, and here it is:
I've never believed it's about the journey; for me, it's always been the destination that counts. My destination was Montana, so I wanted North Dakota to disappear.
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I took a trip from NC to East Helena years ago...that was definitely focused on destination. I was the Cavalry part of the scenario, speeding to the rescue in (thank gawd), a newer car. I was NEVER so happy to see the last of Kansas; felt almost liberated to turn right outside of Denver, and damn near catatonic when I pulled into East Helena. Kansas SHOULD disappear prior to long haul mercy missions...I can only speculate about South Dakota.
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Thank you for this!