road runner

If I wasn't such a snob, I'd probably be a long haul trucker or bus driver for a living. I love driving. Not through town, where traffic backs up and you have to manipulate the streets like a chess board (although that, too, has a certain appeal) - I mean the open road. The long drive. The eternal ribbon of asphalt that never ceases to beckon.

Occasionally, my job requires me to go out of town for the day. Not far - generally within the bounds (or not far past) of the Okanagan. Yesterday, it was Osoyoos, a little town about an hour and a half south of Kelowna. I was covering the opening of the Nk'Mip Desert Cultural Centre, an eco-cultural centre that will preserve and promote the Okanagan native heritage and culture. A feel-good story, I could hit the road knowing there wouldn't be victims or suspects or anything unpleasant waiting for me at the other end.

The weather, when I embarked, was overcast, with light rain. I stopped at the Starbucks next to my house before officially launching out, to enhance the feel-good aura of it all with a grande latte. After zigging and zagging my way down Harvey Ave. (and after a brief pause before the bridge as I waited for the span to come down - stinking sail boats!) it was free sailing - up and over Westbank, past Peachland, circumnavigating one side of Okanagan Lake to Summerland and Penticton. Then through Penticton (where the weather took a turn for the better), and into the deserty terrain of Okanagan Falls, Oliver and Osoyoos.

It was a good drive. Along the way, I listened to Sheila Rogers interview Margaret Trudeau on the CBC (who noted that everyone should find at least one moment of exquisite beauty every day - I was living mine, I decided right then), contemplated how happy I am to be married to a man who's just plain amazing on so many levels, and felt overwhelmed by all the green that's still around in June. Usually by this time, the landscape is a much less stimulating brown, with highlights of yellow, as everything that's not irrigated or watered manually (the hillside) withers from the heat and dies.

I was almost sorry to arrive at my destination. Given an unlimited supply of fuel, an absence of bills to pay and the right sort of company (say, that amazing husband I mentioned) I could have just kept going. There's always more to see - another corner to round, another road to cross. As soon as I find a way to make money from doing this (that doesn't involve air brakes, 18 wheels or passengers), I think I could become one for the road.

Until then, I'll just wait for my next assignment away.