IS IT THE DESTINATION… OR THE JOURNEY? (A Snowbird’s 1,000 Mile Meditation on Highways, Buc-ees, and Human Nature)

After 54 years of driving from Indiana to Florida and back—yes, you read that right, 54 years—you’d think I’d be sick of the road. You might also think I’d be able to navigate I‑75 with my eyes closed (I do not recommend this). But no. I still love it. Every mile of it.

I’ve been making this trip since 1972, back when I was a kid in the backseat, blissfully unaware that one day I would be the adult behind the wheel, chauffeuring my own children, and later grandchildren, down the same asphalt runway to The Sunshine State. The trip is just over 1,000 miles—long enough to question your life choices, but short enough to keep doing it anyway.

Why I Still Love the Road

You might assume that after half a century of the same drive, I’d be bored senseless. But the truth is, the road changes every time. The seasons shift. The company shifts. The conversations shift. I’ve traveled with parents, partners, kids, friends, and now, often, just myself. And let me tell you: Some of the best conversations of my life have happened in the soft glow of dashboard lights at 4:00 a.m. Not so much when I’m traveling solo, though.

Buc‑ees – A World of Its Own

If you’ve never been to a Buc‑ees, imagine a gas station that mated with a Walmart, a carnival, and a national park gift shop. Then imagine it being lit up like the surface of the sun at all hours.

I am not being paid to say this (though if Buc‑ees wants to send me a lifetime supply of Beaver Nuggets, I’d take it). I just genuinely love the place.

The restrooms? Immaculate. The gas prices? Gloriously low. The merchandise? A fever dream that I can't begin to describe.

And the people—oh, the people! Every time I walk in, I hear at least one snippet of conversation that makes me question whether I’ve wandered into a sitcom.

A Rest Stop Worthy of a Postcard

On the night before my most recent drive, insomnia hit me like hard, and by mid‑morning I was desperate for a nap. I pulled off at a rest stop I’d never seen before — shocking, considering I thought I had them all cataloged like a birdwatcher with a Rest Area Life List.

But this one? This one is gorgeous. It’s on I‑24 near Jasper, Tennessee, perched above the majestic Tennessee River. People were walking around taking pictures. I joined them. When a rest stop is so beautiful it turns into a photo op, you know you’ve stumbled onto something special.

So… Destination or Journey?

For me, it’s both. Perkins Place is always waiting at the end of the road, warm and familiar. But the journey—those early‑morning conversations, the surprise rest stops, the Buc‑ees anthropology studies—that’s where the magic happens.

After all these years, I’ve realized something: The destination may be Florida… but the journey is wonderful, too. And honestly? I wouldn’t trade those 1,000 miles for anything.