It’s all about the journey

For most of my childhood, my grandparents lived in Dover, Tennessee, a one-traffic-light town about 150 miles away from where I lived. Whenever they would come for a visit, though, it would take them five or six hours to get to our house. I could never understand this, as I’ve always been a let’s-get-there-fast type. But, for two people who grew up during the Depression era, traveling anywhere was a luxury to be enjoyed. It was never just about getting from point A to point B. They would usually begin the trip by stopping off at their “lucky” gas station to buy one lottery ticket. Then, they’d take the literal scenic route along the Natchez Trace Parkway rather than hopping on Interstate 40. Finally, they would pop into the Pizza Hut buffet in Jackson before making their way to Memphis to see us.  

For those of us in general aviation, our trips tend to be like that—part sightseeing, part travel. Because of fuel needs, weather, and airspace, it’s rarely a straight line from departure to destination. I recently had a flight that would have made Grandma and Grandpa proud. For Christmas, I bought my 10-year-old daughter tickets to the Women’s Softball College World Series in Oklahoma City. One of my friends and her daughter decided they wanted to join us, so we loaded the girls in the backseat of the Cessna 172 with enough candy for their entire fourth grade class and promised to have them to the hotel in time to enjoy the pool before we went out for dinner.

But weather forecasts being what they are, we found ourselves dodging rain before we even made it halfway. So, we stopped in Conway, Arkansas, to get more fuel for the deviation and to take a look at the weather. It wasn’t good. A larger line of storms was building and wasn’t getting out of the way any time soon.

You know how they say patience is a virtue? Well, it’s never been one of mine. Rather than waiting on those storms to pass, I started looking for alternatives, calling everyone within 50 miles to see if they had a rental car. No luck. Next, I tried to convince the poor guy working the FBO to loan us one of the three airport SUVs to take to Oklahoma. (Surely, they didn’t need all those cars?) But no, the airport cars are only for local use, Evan at the front desk told us.  

In hindsight, I’ll always be glad there were no good alternatives that day because we were forced to do something I’m not very good at: slow down and enjoy the scenery. Evan was kind enough to loan us an airport car for a local drive, so we ladies found ourselves a diner called The Purple Cow that exceeded all our expectations, especially when they brought out the purple milkshakes at the end. There is nothing that will make a child smile quite so much as ice cream. After we moseyed through town and laughed until we cried about what would happen if we tried to make a Thelma and Louise-style getaway to Oklahoma in the airport loaner car, we made our way back to a fueled-up airplane and a storm-free route to our destination. By the time we landed, it was too late for a swim, but no one seemed to mind too much as the day had been a strangely wonderful departure from the norm.

The trip home a few days later wasn’t much better, except this time, we found ourselves in Mountain Home, Arkansas, waiting out the weather. So, we had a leisurely lunch at a great local pizza spot, and the little FBO had a full-body massage chair, much to the delight of our daughters. My friend and I took a long walk up and down the empty taxiway and talked about everything and nothing, like old friends do. Even though she never complained, I worried that she might have been a little put off by the lifestyle of general aviation, with its unplanned delays and flexible schedule. By the time we landed back in Olive Branch in the early evening, a student pilot was about to take off on his first solo. Instead of rushing off to her car to get home, my friend just put her bags down and stopped to watch. “Look at that,” she told her daughter. “That’s pretty cool. That pilot is taking off alone for the very first time.”  

They say that life will continue to teach you the same lessons over and over again until you learn what you are supposed to. I guess that’s what keeps happening to me. Maybe someday, I’ll learn what Grandma and Grandpa knew so well. It’s not just about the destination. You’ll get there when you get there. Make sure you enjoy the journey along the way, especially the unplanned parts.

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