Country Roads, Take Me Home

 This blog entry isn't about a bargain or a binge, per se, but rather a "quality of experience " issue when it comes to travel by automobile. In my business as a vintage watch dealer, and in my leisure as a vagabond, I do a fair amount of driving. That's about 20,000 miles a year, including my semi-annual trek to Florida and back for winter hiatus.

Lately I've been re-evaluating the efficiency and general headache factor of taking the Interstate highway system, versus the old U.S., state, and even county roads. And lately, the latter has been winning out as my choice of conveyance from point A to point B.


When I first got my driver's license in 1972, the Interstate was the clear, no-brainer choice. They were a miracle of modern American ingenuity. They would whisk you along at 65 mph with no stop signs, with limited entrances and exits to worry about merging. And before you knew it, you were at your destination. Never mind that the I system systematically euthanized Roadside America. Hell, this was progress, and if we had to put a few million people out of work and put mom-and-pop motels and eateries out of business and replace them with Holiday Inns and McDonalds restaurants, so be it.


But now, and for the last 10 years or so, the Interstate system is a different animal. At most any given time, it seems like there is more Interstate under construction than clear. More often than not, you're driving on "temporary" interstate ... blacktop roads built to divert traffic around the construction. It's like driving down a slalom course, with no shoulders, no place to pull off for emergencies, and no way get around an accident if both lanes become blocked.


Add to that, when going through cities of any size, it seems now there is an interchange every half mile, creating a merging nightmare. And after 63 years of building and modifying the Interstate, there is STILL no standard way to enter and exit. Sometime it's right, sometimes left, and sometimes middle. God help you if you're in the wrong lane approaching your exit, and traffic is tight, which it is most all the time these days.

And perhaps worst of all, we have inattentive, tailgating drivers distracted by all manner of electronic devices. Three thousand pounds of metal streaking down the Interstate at 70-80 miles an hour, or crawling along in bumper to bumper traffic is not meant to be a "hotspot." Yet I see people phoning, texting, and surfing like they were in a Starbucks.


And then there is speed, or to be more specific, the lack of speed, through construction zones. During a recent trip around Milwaukee, Wis., via I-894 (which has been under construction for as long as I can remember and shows no sign of progress), I averaged about 40 miles per hour. And this was on a good day, non rush hour. At commuting times, this stretch of the "I" becomes a parking lot.

Is it any wonder that every year since 2008 the number the number of people killed on U.S. highways hovers between 33,000 and 37,000, despite improvements in vehicle safety, including airbags, anti-lock brakes, and host of other features. You can fix the cars all you want, but as comedian Ron White states so succinctly, you can't fix stupid.


And, hey, this is not about growing old and being a fraidy-cat about navigating the Interstate. I have driven the New Jersey Turnpike, hurtled through Chicago, Washington D.C., Boston, Atlanta, Orlando, to name a few places. I have jockeyed with the best of them and gone toe to toe with some of the worst asshole drivers the devil put on this earth. This is about the efficiency, or lack thereof, of the Interstate system to get me to where I want to be.

So for all these reasons and more, I have re-evaluated using the "blue highways," as author William "Least Heat" Moon so eloquently described them in his 1982 book of the same name. If you haven't read it, do so. It was a book ahead of its time, and its message rings as true today as it did 36 years ago.


On a recent trip to Kohler, Wis., I white-knuckled my way through Milwaukee on I-894 and I-43 though Milwaukee, lumbering along at about 40 mph until I cleared the northern 'burbs. So on the way back, I plotted a course via State Highway 23, U.S. Highway 151, and State Highway 26. Guess what? I got back to my home as quickly as I had arrived at my destination via the Interstate. Much of those roads are four-lane anyway, and I dare say more picturesque, with plenty of places for pee stops, or to stretch my legs, or grab a bite to eat. Against all odds, Roadside America has survived.


Navigating the blue highways can be a little tricky, I admit. For one thing, you will need a true, dedicated GPS unit that connects to the satellites hovering in space. Cell phones with map apps just don't cut it. I don't care what network you're on, they will fail you, because blue highways are often in dead zones when it comes to cell service.

Here's the cool thing about (most) GPS units these days: They have an "avoid highways" feature that keeps you off the freeways and tollways. If you refuse to buy a GPS, you'll likely have to map out your route ahead of time with paper and pencil or use a paper road atlas. If you're between 20 and 40 years of age, can you imagine such a thing? Yet that's the way we used to do it. Amazingly, we survived.

OK, I admit the blue highways can have their problems. Farm equipment slowing you down along a long stretch of "no passing" zone, detours, road closed ahead, etc. But one other nice thing about blue highways is that there is almost always a nearby way to get off them and re-route along a county or -- worst case -- a town road in the event of such misfortune. This is often NOT the case on the Interstate. You can be miles and miles from the next exit, and if you get stopped in traffic, you're basically fu*ked. At least on a state or U.S. highway, there are plenty or exit-ways, or worst case, you can safely turn around.

Another potential problem --- and I hate to pick on the South -- but it's the South, particularly Alabama, Mississippi, and central Florida. No doubt, there are many fine folks there, and maybe I've seen the movie "Deliverance" too many times, but I just don't want to get too far off the main highways when I'm in the South. Recently, I was on a little back-road adventure on U.S. Highway 17 from Lakeland to Fort Myers, Fla., to avoid I-75, and I went through some towns where let's just say I wouldn't want to get out of my car. I'm live-and-let-live as the next guy, but I get a little nervous when I see Confederate flags flying on lawns and pickup trucks. Call me paranoid; I'm just saying ... use your best judgment in certain situations.

But the South aside, give the blue highways some thought on your next journey. Stay at a mom-n-pop hotel. Eat at local cafe. Witness the world's largest catsup bottle in Collinsville, Ill. Thrill to Iowa's Largest Frying Pan in Brandon.

Sample some of the best cherry pie you've ever had in Beulah, Mich. You'll have a much better and more relaxing time, and chances are you'll reach your destination just as quickly had you chosen the Interstate.

Bruce