I think you’re either a flyer or you’re a driver.
Some people outright refuse to fly anywhere *clears throat* my partner, Clint Bickel. They will only go to places that they can drive to.
I consider myself a driver as well but not because I refuse to fly, it’s because I want to see as many places as I can. That doesn’t mean I never fly but it depends on the situation.
If time permits and the weather is spectacular then I prefer to drive it.
But if I’ve driven that road a thousand times and I’m short on time, I’d rather fly.
I love the open road. Feeling in control. Stopping when I want, for how long I want. Snacking on what I want. All the while listening to music and singing out loud. You can’t get away with that on a plane.
Traveling by bus sucks. I have romantic notions of traveling by train but it’s probably almost as claustrophobic and smelly as riding a bus. And you can’t just stop when you want.
My Gramma was a perpetual puller-over on road trips. There were two larger towns, one that was two hours to the east and the other two hours to the west, of the small town near where I grew up. On occasions when I would go with my grandparents to either of these towns it always made me laugh that halfway there, or one hour into the trip, Gramma would make Grampa pull over and stop somewhere to sit and have a coffee.
At the time I couldn’t understand why he seemed annoyed but now I get it. Two hours on the road doesn’t really warrant a thirty minute pit stop/coffee break. But it’s not like you could say no to her.
bloom.planted.north 
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