Driving Miss Nancy

You learn a lot of stuff, driving to and from Florida with your beloved.
By "beloved," I refer to my wife, Nancy, not to my car, because I'm not that kind of macho guy, and couldn't be, even if I tried. The only kinds of cars I can identify with 100% certainty are Volkswagen Beetles, and even then, I seem to be the only person of my acquaintance who plays the game by saying "Volkswagen, no rebounds."
Everyone else, including my travelling companion to and from the sunshine state, believes the line begins with "Punchbuggy". This was a source of considerable controversy, as we made our way southward through the US of A.
I digress.
We logged about 5400 kilometers, all told, as we drove down the I-75 to Marco Island, visited sundry parts of Florida including Pompano Beach, Disney and Saint Augustine (the latter of which was a wonderful revelation to me), and then headed back for the border crossing at Detroit and points Canadian.
One thing I learned was that it is better to have a GPS (which we did, this year) than not to have one (which was the case last year, a contributing factor in our journey to Fort Lauderdale from Disney via Tampa. Okay, so I was listening to old time rock 'n' roll and not reading road signs. Sorry! Did that give our impatient, eventual hosts the right to eat all the appetizers, just because we were several hours late for dinner? Well? I digress, again).
I learned ­-- too late, unfortunately --­ that picking the tunes for a four-day round trip should be a consultative effort, not a unilateral process. I did try to include something for all tastes, but it became clear --­ as someone who will not be named read out the title of each and every CD ­-- that my preferences dominated.
On the other hand, everyone should be exposed to the timeless, classical work of The Association and Procol Harum, shouldn't they?
We learned that the mountains of Kentucky and Tennessee look pretty much the same, whether viewed from the north or the south, especially since our precise schedule planning left us driving through said mountains in the pitch dark, both ways.
We learned that the southern US is undoubtedly the billboard capital of the world. We especially enjoyed the juxtapositions, like the two adjacent signs that read: "Prepare to meet your God"... "Strippers! Need we say more?"
We learned once again ­-- not the hard way, that was an experience from my past that shall not be repeated ­-- that speeding tickets are a major source of governmental funding in Georgia and other southern states. I don't know who was chasing the criminals, because every police officer in the state appeared to be concealed along the I-75. Those that weren't concealed were parked, lights blazing, behind the next poor sucker who got caught in the ubiquitous speed traps.
We learned that when you find a bargain hotel room for the night in transit, you get exactly what you pay for. We did. There was actually a bed, but towels, soap and curtains would have been nice. We changed our approach on the way back.
I learned that you cannot assume anything in a restaurant. Heading south, we stopped at a Cracker Barrel -- a slice of Americana if ever there was one. Even on holiday, I was trying to watch my weight (which is easy, considering where most of it is located. Rim shot.)
I ordered the catfish special, and it came with grilled fish and veggies... a generally low-fat and delicious meal. So I repeated my order on the way home... or thought I did. The result was deep fried catfish, a huge plate of fries, rolls, and biscuits. Perfect. I didn't try to send it back, because apparently, this was indeed what I had ordered. Maybe my Canadian accent confused them.
We learned that everyone in the south calls everyone else "Hon." I think we should adopt this is Canada. Especially in Parliament, where if Harper and Ignatieff had to refer to one another as "Hon," the level of debate might just be elevated a bit.
Mostly, though, I learned that driving Miss Nancy is a lovely experience. I know I am supposed to say that, but it's true, none the less. Honest, Hon.