“If I had money, I tell you what I’d do. I’d go downtown and buy a Mercury or two. I’m crazy ’bout a Mercury, yeah, crazy ’bout a Mercury. I’m gonna buy me a Mercury and cruise it up and down the road.” - Steve Miller Band
I always loved that song. When I was a kid, I would imagine being grown-up and driving a totally awesome convertible and going on awesome roadtrips. Ok, I admit it. I still daydream about getting in my magically awesome new convertible and just driving. And being a grown-up too. I’m sure it’ll happen some day.
The roadtrip portion of the dream has evolved over the years. When I was a kid, I imagined I would drive to visit my family in Connecticut. That was a 7 hour drive! When you’re 12, that’s an entire day of not riding your bike and climbing a tree and sneaking cigarettes and hanging with your friends and watching “Welcome back Kotter”.
Nowadays, 7 hours isn’t even an entire day at the office. So, a simple trip to Connecticut is no longer going to cut it. So, I started to think about where I would drive to. I think I’d head south to New Jersey to start. There’s a girl down there (isn’t there always a girl?) who promises a country club experience like no other. I imagine we’d get matching butterfly tattoos.
I think from there, I would continue south to Virginia. On the map, they’re practically side by side, so it shouldn’t take me very long to get there. No longer than writing a novel, I’m sure. I’ve heard tons about a fabulous beach there. And there’s a girl (didn’t I say there was always a girl?) I believe might point me in the direction of a dolphin or two. We’d hang out on the beach and paint our toenails blue.
Now, heading south all the time can make one dizzy, so I think I’d head north a little. And west. I like west. West is good. I’d head northwest until I hit Wisconsin. For a change, there’s no girl there (well, I’m sure there are girls there, but none that I know. Or at least none that I know that I know. You know?) In any case, Wisconsin is all about the cheese and the beer. I’d probably be there a while. I’d send postcards to everyone I know. And I do mean everyone I know that I know.
Obviously, from Wisconsin I would have to continue northwest to Minnesota, which is right next door. Weird how I can peek into the backyards of certain residents of Minnesota while here in Canada, but I can’t see a single person in Wisconsin! Must be some kind of strange atmospheric interference or something. In any case, once again, in Minnesota there is a girl. And we listen to Prince together while driving a really intense 40 miles so I can finally meet her mom.
At this point, I’m still liking west, but I think it’s time to change it up again. So I head southwest to Colorado. Not western Colorado, though. That would be too cliché. Eastern Colorado is the place to be. In Colorado, there’s a man. Yes, that’s right. MAN! But he’s really busy writing a book. Luckily though, he’s married so there’s a girl. The girl and I go out a lot and drink quite a bit and make fun of all the silly western Coloradoans (Coloradans? Coloradites?) who ski and frolic in the 4,000 feet of snow. Occasionally, we make fun of the man too, but in a nice way. ‘Cause he’s funny.
By now, I’ve fallen in love with west. But I am really tired of all the ups and downs I experience as I travel south, then north, then south. Actually, I guess that should say I’m really tired of all the downs and ups. Go west, young (wo)man, go west. So I do. And I don’t stop until I’m in California. Sacramento, California to be specific. Where I buy a newspaper. And meet a girl. Yup, another girl. One in every port, that’s me. We hunt zombies together.
After hunting zombies, I need a drink. And, say it with me now, there’s this girl, and she’s told me all about the wine country where she lives AND she has amazing coasters. No, coasters are not a euphemism for anything other than coasters. Get your minds out of the gutter! So, I head south again, even though I said I wouldn’t, and I meet a girl and we drink wine and play a really smelly game of Bingo.
I don’t know if it’s the wine, the smelly Bingo or heading south, but I’m dizzy again. North! I am northbound. I finally stop around Alameda. The car has died. But it’s ok. ‘Cause there’s a girl. A hell of a girl. I shoot the car. There are earth-shattering kabooms. It’s epic. The girl and I walk off in our matching leopard high heels. We drink tequila. We get spiritual brie tattoos. We drive the fishman absolutely wild. I send more postcards to everyone I know that I know.
Then I get on a plane for Finland. Where there’s a girl…
