My daughter finished school at noon. I had packed the car that morning, so we all piled in and headed to Florida. As I have said before, I hate the drive to Florida. I do enjoy taking bikes and my fishing stuff, so the tradeoff is worthwhile. We entered I-75 with a zillion other SUVs with bikes on the back and forged ahead.

As usual, the orange barrels were out in force, and we experienced significant traffic delays. It’s just peachy when traffic slows to walking pace for 20 minutes and, when the reason for the delay is reached, you find a quarter mile of lane closure where absolutely no work is being done. I probably could have wasted a whole day just trying to figure out who to complain to about this sort of bureaucratic silliness. Time would be better spent trimming my toenails.

Besides the inevitable delays, the other maddening thing about long-distance trips is the behavior of other drivers. If I can get away with driving 75 or 80, I’ll do it. I’m diligent, however, about keeping my distance from the car ahead of me. Occasionally some pinhead would pass on the right and then insert himself between me and the next car. What joy. After the third time, my wife suggested that honking was not helping the situation, so I just gave up.

After playing NASCAR for a few hours, I concluded that the whole experience was analogous to working in the emergency department. Inserting between two cars at high speed without warning was analogous to doctors sending their patients to the ED without calling to discuss it. Just like the pinheaded driver, this practice is potentially dangerous, inconsiderate, and unprofessional. I have given up honking about that, too.

We had a great time on Lido Key, which is near Sarasota. One of my former residents, Jan Brown, and I went fishing near Longboat Key on a pristine cloudless afternoon. We caught a bunch of redfish, and most measured too big to keep. Hauling in a 30-inch fish with a rod and reel is a memorable experience. The two redfish we were allowed to keep made a tasty meal.

The week passed in a wink, and we returned to I-75 with the rest of humanity. The state of Georgia seemed to elongate as we traveled. By the time we reached the Tennessee border, I felt as if we had just traversed California. We had hoped to drive straight through but settled on staying over in a scenic little town north of Knoxville.

We dined at the Shoney’s, where everyone was quite friendly and helpful. After watching the employees and the other patrons for a time and listening to speech patterns, I was reminded that we were in the center of Appalachia. Now, you could blindfold and drop someone in the Shoney’s in Columbus or Indianapolis or Peoria and the experience would be largely the same. In Appalachia, along with your slice of chocolate pie, you get a slice of their culture.

My daughter is a good student and has plans to attend college. I have not felt the need to have the conversation regarding flipping hamburgers versus owning the McDonald’s. She too observed the passing scene and concluded quickly that the young ladies working as servers that evening, most of whom were only a few years older, had few prospects for more interesting or lucrative employment. We talked back and forth about why a person might choose to stay there and work at Shoney’s and whether they were content or not.

The important conclusion for my daughter was made on her own, with no prodding. She believes that she would not find contentment in those circumstances. I could have tried to convince her of this 12 different ways, but my words would not have a 10th of the impact of what she concluded all by herself. Thus, the point that success comes through hard work was made without lifting a finger – just a fork.

These serendipitous experiences reminded me that sometimes the journey is the destination and that lessons can be found in the most unlikely places – even the Shoney’s in northern Tennessee.

Be happy.

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