On Sunday we began the first leg of our journey to visit family and friends spread out through the middle of the Eastern U.S. 

We drove from Maryland down to Tennessee and then from Tennessee to my parents’ home in Western Kentucky.  From here we’ll head south to Memphis before heading back north up to Cincinnati and then home.

It’s just me and the three kids and a minivan that’s loaded to the gills and has over 130,000 miles (90 of which we’ve put on in the last 2 and a half years.)  Yes, it’s the quintessential family road trip.  We’re not quite half way through yet and let me tell you, I’m exhausted.

But it’s fun.

I enjoy the whole road trip experience.  I like listening to trashy novels while I drive, I like getting to stop at regional fast food places that we don’t have back home (gotta love Krystal Burger!) and despite the chaos that comes with hauling three children around to various people’s homes, I cherish the opportunity to reconnect with good friends and family who I haven’t seen in a while.  (I’ve been tweeting the trip and so far it’s been a hoot.  I’ve found all kinds of interesting tidbits along the way.  You can follow me at @marcuszumwalt on twitter.com)

Plus, it’s important to travel out of your own little world and to revisit the rest of the nation every once in a while.  It reminds you how diverse and varied the people of this nation are.

As you leave the DC area (home of those limo liberals and the west coast media elite and probably a bunch of dirty hippie commies) it’s hard not to see the quick and persistent changes.

As the suburbs give way to farms and mountains, you notice that the bumper stickers invariably shift from Democrat to Republican.  Say no more to “Yes we can” and hello to “He’s not change!  He’s a Chump!”  Which was a lot nicer than the other bumper sticker which had a cartoon drawing of klansman and the tagline “The Original Boys in the Hood.”

Charming.

You also notice that the types of stores you pass change.  The ubiquity of Starbucks seems to give way to an almost equal number of gun stores.

I grew up in Tennessee, and maybe I just wasn’t paying attention, but I don’t remember seeing so many gun shops growing up.  Maybe they’ve been there all along, but I don’t think so.  I think the presence of these new massive, wholesale gun shops is sort of a new development.  I read an article about how gun sales shot through the roof because everyone thought Obama was going to take their guns away (Yes he CAN!).  I don’t know, but it seems like the gun industry is pretty healthy to me.

But not as healthy as the fireworks industry.

There is only one marketing rule in Fireworks – Size!

If your fireworks stand is not the biggest, largest, most something fireworks store in the county, state, region or nation, then you should go home and sell guns like a wuss.  Because in fireworks it’s all about bang for your buck!

For you folks outside of the south who may have only seen fireworks tents in the mall parking lot, this is not what we are talking about.  These are full fledged stores, larger than most groceries.  They usually add on fake facades to make their store seem wider or taller from the highway.  A lot of times you’ll drive by and think “My gosh!  That place is massive we’ve got to stop!” only to pull off the highway and find that it’s really just a converted 7-11 with enough empty aluminum siding stacked around it to make a trailer park. 

But the good ones are truly large and can often be spotted from space… especially if someone was accidentally smoking and they catch on fire.

Needless to say, with my backseats filled with toddlers, diapers and baby blankets, we did not stop at any of these fine establishments, even though I was assured that they’re “prices can’t be beat!”

Another recent development along the interstate is the presence of giant crosses.  If you haven’t seen them, they’re about 3 stories tall and are usually placed in a way to draw maximum visibility

I was driving south from Knoxville to Chattanooga about 5 years ago the first time I saw one.  It was dark and as I came over a hill, there was this massive illuminated cross staring down at me. 

I am a Christian who attends church weekly and has since birth and I’ve got to tell you.  That cross scared the crap out of me.  There’s something about making something gigantically large that is inherently foreboding.  If you took a puppy and made it three stories tall, that would give me the willies too.

Anyway, whoever has taken on this project has moved into high gear.  I passed at least four of these monstrosities on my journey so far.  Luckily there are still some old school billboards listing the ten commandments and telling me when and how I might go to hell.  It seems practically quaint compared to Cross-zilla.,

In other observations, we also had a celebrity sighting.  While we were driving on I-81 to Knoxville, we passed a flat bed truck carrying Thomas the Train. 

This was very cool.

We had just paid big bucks to go see Thomas up in Baltimore a few weeks ago and here he is being hauled down the highway.  I have to admit that I found this a little disconcerting though.

Thomas is a train.

He travels from train station to train station giving expensive rides to kids and hawking his miniature doppelgangers.  I had always assumed (falsely) that Thomas traveled by …. You know… rail.

But no.

Apparently Thomas is too good to go slumming it with Amtrak and the New Jersey Transit.  In the same way that Nascar cars don’t just drive up to the race, Thomas is carried from place to place like some kind of dainty fairy train who’s precious wheels can’t touch the cold hard train tracks without chipping a bearing.

Wuss.

Another thing I’ve realized on this trip is how much I miss the mountains.

My ideal home would be a large log cabin on a hundred acres in the mountains overlooking a vista of row upon row of hills rolling out before me, and also be a 15 minute commute from downtown DC.  However, until the High Speed Heli-Car goes into mass production, this probably isn’t real likely. 

But I do miss the Appalachians.  There is something beautiful and peaceful about them.  I miss the different shades of blue and green that they have as each succeeding ridge varies slightly from the row in front of it.  I love how they seem untouched and virginal even in the midst of a society spreading ever father outward. 

And whenever I travel I’m always tempted by those mountains.  I’m always tempted to take my busy life and trade it in for a cabin overlooking that vista.  But then I’ll be walking through a Wal-mart like I was yesterday and pass some enormously obese guy wearing a t-shirt that says, “Boobies Make Me Happy,” and I am instantly struck by three thoughts:

1)  Do you think he’s talking about his own ample C cups?

2)  Why does that woman he’s with not seem to mind that he’s wearing that shirt?

3)  I really don’t want to live here.

I also start to think about what I would miss.  And, truly, I like good coffee and concerts and theater and Thai food and people that aren’t white and stuff like that.  Heck, most of these places don’t even have a Target. 

And so I once again reach the conclusion that the perfect place to live probably doesn’t really exist and that you’re really only searching for the most perfect compromise, which to a great extent I think I’ve found.

So, for now, I just keep driving - enjoying the mountains and Krystal Burgers, crazy bumper stickers and peanut butter shakes while they are available to me. 

And really, isn’t that what a road trip is all about?