One of my favorite TV spots a million years ago was from Greyhound.
I loved, and still do, buses and trains. Strangely enough, my enjoyment of by-others-operated transportation does NOT include airplanes as I am a terrible flier, especially since I no longer drink alcohol (and assume neither do the pilots).
Over this past summer, to break in our new car and because I've wanted to do something like it for seemingly forever, my wife and I Road Tripped down the Eastern Seaboard, stopping in Virginia to visit our daughter, Michelle, and Kyle, and to catch up with dear friends, Roger and Darlene, and then headed south to Florida, for our son, Patrick and his fortieth birthday (a surprise brilliantly organized by his lovely wife and my genius daughter-in-law, Jena).
By the time we returned to the Land of Steady Habits, we'd clocked 3,025 miles in nine days and think I cured myself, forever, of the notion of doing something like that ever again. Never eaten as hot as it's served, but in this case, pretty close.
And then I found this story and smiled a little Sammy Hagar road-warrior grin. And in honor of Florida, left my turn signal on for an additional two weeks.
-bill kenny
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