Great American Road Trips

Most travelers want to arrive at their destination before it even begins. I believe the trip is just as important as the journey’s end, but the Great American Road Trip can happen anywhere as long as you’re willing to look for it.

Mine begins in Lexington, Virginia, along Route 11. Paralleling I-81 through Virginia, Route 11 takes you back to an earlier, more innocent time. I feel like I should be in a old convertible with a.m. radio blaring while cruising up the leafy, winding highway, driving through small towns and waiting for trains to pass.

It’s a route as famous for its lush, sweeping scenery – the road skims towering pines, passing through forests thick with blossoms and beneath gushing waterfalls – as it is for its friendly inhabitants.
Every time I travel this route, I gawk at the striking examples of early American architectural style: Federal, American Foursquare, Colonial Revival, Gothic and more. These buildings tell stories of their history so much better than walled-in communities that make me feel as if I am drowning in a sea of beige. Road signs point to unheard of attractions while making unexpected turns leads to new discoveries.

One of my finds along the way was the Historic Meem’s Bottom Covered Bridge, built in the late 1800s. I drove over imagining the clip clop of hooves from wagons carrying their load to town and what life must have been like for the hardened mountain folk living in the Shenandoah.


Fresh air and unexpected stops make me hungry. I channeled Anthony Bourdain as I stopped at the Southern Inn in hopes of finding great local fare. It isn’t often you find calves’ liver alongside hoisin sake glazed tuna on your lunch menu. This isn’t fast greasy burger road food; it is a palate pleaser draped in white linen and formal place settings. The perfect respite for the early afternoon, even if the thought of eating liver still makes my inner five-year-old tantrum.

Wandering around Lexington I made my way up the street to the Virginia Military Institute where I saw cadets in full dress parade. Crisp grey uniforms, mixed with the throb of the drum line, pushed me towards ecstatic heights. My head was filled with the sound of perfectly timed brass lines, all matching an invisible metronome in perfect 4/4 time.

Climbing back into my trusty four door sedan confirmed all of my feelings. Sometimes the best part of the adventure isn’t the destination, it is the journey.