I just finished an eight-day trip during which I drove a tad more than 2,700 miles and, for what it’s worth, here are some comments and thoughts on life in general and life in America…

The trip was to attend the funeral Mass, and then the burial, of a dear friend, a Marine Colonel, named John, who I have known for 35 years, who literally saved my life several times, and who became one of my closest friends.

First, about John, a tour in Vietnam as platoon leader, was a company commander in the Marines who went ashore in Beirut, had rotated out a few weeks before the bombing, went back to help in the recovery, tours in several countries in SE Asia in the late 80s, early 90s, several tours in sneaky stuff, tours in the Mid East. Retired in 2003 after 31 years, and then went back to work for CentCom and did so for another 14 or 15 years.

Great friend, great husband, great father. He had just completed the Camino Ignaciano, and had returned to the US when he passed away in the airport. The Camino Ignaciano is the road that Ignatius of Loyola followed from his home in Loyola (about 30 miles east of Bilbao, northern Spain) to Manresa (about 20 miles north of Barcelona).

From an Italian-American family in New York, a great cook, a lover of baseball and the Marines and America… The Marine color guard at the Church, and at the grave site 1,200 miles to the north – in their blues, 95 degrees and high humidity – superb.

He will be sorely missed by a great many people.

The Mass was in Tampa, so I drove down there a day early and invited myself to stay at my long-time friend Phil’s house (another Navy guy – friends for 40+ years). Phil and his wife are far too gracious and humored me. Phil even took me for a spin in his Ferrari; more on that in a moment. Then I crossed Florida to Tampa for the wake and the funeral Mass, was humbled to serve as a pall bearer with some truly great Americans, and then spent some more time with John’s family and friends.

Then, I drove north, reached New York in time for the internment – at the same cemetery as Babe Ruth – and then drove home yesterday.

Some thoughts:

Go see your friends. It is more important than anything else you will do. If you really can’t, then send them notes, talk to them.

Really visit when you can. Getting your ears blown out and your head snapped back when a Ferrari hits 7,000 RPM is worth every inch of 2,700 miles of driving. I laughed so hard I thought I would pee my pants. Life should be lived for moments like that; grab them when you can.

Thank the truckers. And say a prayer for them. Everything you eat, drink, wear, read, etc., was moved by truckers. I drove 2700 miles in 56 hours of driving, over 8 days; 7 hours per day average, and that got long… Many truckers are on the road 10 – 12 hours per day, 6 days per week. And it doesn’t end. Next week is just like this week which was just like last week… Much of it is on crowded roads. South of Richmond, all the way to Miami, is, relatively speaking, sane. The “Eastern Corridor,” from Richmond to Boston, is definitely not sane. How any driver drives that route more than once a month without deciding to jump off a bridge is beyond me. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Some simple observations – based on just my single sample size:

I say this all the time, but it’s worth repeating: What an amazing country! I encourage everyone to go see it. And that means getting outside the cities. Don’t fly over it, get in your car and go see it. Don’t stop at chain restaurants, eat at diners. Mix with your fellow Americans. Chat with the waitress, have a piece of pie, leave a generous tip.

I met wonderful people everywhere. All sizes, shapes, and colors. There is a lot of yelling and finger pointing in the news about how everyone hates everyone. I didn’t see any of that. I did see young people holding doors for old people, old people joking with young people, folks with lots of tattoos chatting and laughing with what might have been straight-laced bankers.

Drivers south of Richmond seem more polite than drivers north of Richmond. Drivers from Delaware appear to be the least courteous. And the worst drivers. But even they were nice outside of their cars… By the way, to some of you: turn off your high beams…

New Jersey, except for the recently re-paved New Jersey Turnpike, has the worst roads. Spend the money, fix the roads you have… Florida handles toll roads better than anyone else – painless. New Jersey and Delaware need to take a lesson from Florida.

The new Tappan Zee Bridge (yes, I know it is officially the Governor Mario M. Cuomo Bridge, but did you know that the old Tappan Zee Bridge was officially the Governor Malcolm Wilson Tappan Zee Bridge – and no one called it that either) is an impressive structure. But they added a wire mesh fence above the concrete, presumably to make jumping more difficult. Perhaps that will cut down on the number, though if you are walking about on the bridge, well… let your mind wander.

In the meantime, they have managed to kill the view. If you are in a sedan or anything other than a large truck or a bus, you can’t see over the wire fence, you look at the magnificent Hudson Valley and Hudson River (which really are stunningly beautiful) through the wire fence, which when moving turns into a gray blur and the river beyond looks as if you are looking though scuffed up glass… If you were stationary it probably would be fine. But if you were stationary on the bridge you would have other problems… Someone needs to rethink that…

To all states from Virginia north: when you put up a sign that says “Gas,” and the driver gets off the highway to get gas, some more signs would help. Again, New Jersey is the worst, but there are several states fighting for position of “worst directions.” The Carolinas – north and south – are excellent in this regard! Well done!

Rest stops need to carry real maps of the state. I always carry a road atlas, and I pay attention to the maps, which is good because 3 times in 8 days by GPS gave me the wrong directions – in mid ride, switched directions. Who knows why but turning it off and then back on corrected it. And I knew where I was going. But these devices are not fool proof (ask the Ukrainian army). Maps might be nice. Someone who wasn’t paying attention could get very lost, which happened to one of the priests involved with the services over the last week…followed his GPS and ended up on a limited access road headed in the wrong direction…

Besides, getting off the highway and nosing around on secondary roads, rather than following the highways that the GPS routes will point at, lets you see some wonderful countryside…

And to my friend John:

Now Free

He lies not in that box,

His spirit is now free,

With the elders, among stars above,

For creatures of light are we.

His burden lifted, his cares are eased,

No pains, no worries, no loss,

His heart is mended, his soul at ease,

He need no longer carry his cross.

He runs with his dogs, He sits with his friends,

His dad, his uncle, all his family,

Shares laughs with comrades in arms,

All now safe from a troubled sea.

But be assured he remembers us all,

And will greet us all in turn,

With his crooked smile and warm embrace,

When to our true home we each return.

Copyright 2024 Arrias

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