Road trips

I had a pleasant reason to travel west of the Blue Mountains last weekend. The drive to my destination was nostalgic, following a road often travelled with my family when I was young. One of the last times I'd travelled over the mountains was with my brother. That had been a glum trip, to visit our dieing uncle, a man we admired and loved. It may have been our shared sorrow, or simply the shared memories, but as we drove west that day, some of the barriers that had built up between my brother and I in the time since I had left home, were removed for good.

Last weekend, as I drove, I had vivid recollections of some of our conversation on that trip 5 years ago. We'd passed some memorable places; The Hydro Majestic, the fruit stalls (delicious peaches and apples with real crunch), The Ugg Boot Centre. Each of those places prompted recollection of little snippets from trips with our parents. Those trips were not often free and easy, most began with nervous anticipation of our father losing it. My father has a pathological need to leave "at the designated time" and would generally spend the first half of any trip fuming because of my mother's inability to give a shit about time. They were also laced with liberal doses of god-awful music (an Australian legend, he may be, but Slim Dusty (RIP), your music was not, never will be, my thang).

As we recalled events from those family trips, it was interesting to see the perspective that each of us had stored away. It was revealing listening to my adult brother and his take on our past. I saw a new side to him on that trip, a maturity and sensitivity that had previously eluded my perception. I guess Hollywood has it right on the road trip. There certainly is something about being thrust together in a small space for hours, that breaks down those walls that we allow to form between us. Even a solo journey can be restorative.