“On my own. Going down the only road I’ve ever known.” So I’m driving down the freeway in Arizona and this classic tune by Whitesnake comes on the radio. How fitting. I turn it up to sing along and call my best buddy, Red. He is the only other person I know who admits to loving this song and we’ve had some good times on the road together with this song as the soundtrack. The life of a Travel Girl has the potential to be a lonely one, but I am so lucky to have a team of colleagues with whom I travel or the company of my fly guy while on the road. So as I embarked alone on my sophomore visit to Phoenix-Scottsdale and decided to rent a car, I was reminded that I have never driven in a strange city on my own. I decided this was the year as Scottsdale does not have a taxi system. It is much like LA and if I can drive the “Goldfinger” the wrong direction down the sidewalk of Wilshire Blvd. in order to make an appointment with Bon Appetit Magazine, I figured it couldn’t be any worse. There were a few missed exits at first, but as the week rolled on I mastered the freeways and was so comfortable that I could turn up the radio, take one hand off the wheel and make the afore mentioned call. Even Tawny Kitane would be proud and so was I! Oh, but then I arrived at a tire dealership instead of the golf course I was supposed to be at, both called Grayhawk. Oops! O.K. maybe two hands on the wheel. And Tawny, get off the hood… it’s a rental.
February 13, 2007
Here I go again
“On my own. Going down the only road I’ve ever known.” So I’m driving down the freeway in Arizona and this classic tune by Whitesnake comes on the radio. How fitting. I turn it up to sing along and call my best buddy, Red. He is the only other person I know who admits to loving this song and we’ve had some good times on the road together with this song as the soundtrack. The life of a Travel Girl has the potential to be a lonely one, but I am so lucky to have a team of colleagues with whom I travel or the company of my fly guy while on the road. So as I embarked alone on my sophomore visit to Phoenix-Scottsdale and decided to rent a car, I was reminded that I have never driven in a strange city on my own. I decided this was the year as Scottsdale does not have a taxi system. It is much like LA and if I can drive the “Goldfinger” the wrong direction down the sidewalk of Wilshire Blvd. in order to make an appointment with Bon Appetit Magazine, I figured it couldn’t be any worse. There were a few missed exits at first, but as the week rolled on I mastered the freeways and was so comfortable that I could turn up the radio, take one hand off the wheel and make the afore mentioned call. Even Tawny Kitane would be proud and so was I! Oh, but then I arrived at a tire dealership instead of the golf course I was supposed to be at, both called Grayhawk. Oops! O.K. maybe two hands on the wheel. And Tawny, get off the hood… it’s a rental.
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