Posted By crates on November 2, 2007

I awoke for some reason around six with the morning outside still dark, dripping from a recent drizzle, cool with low clouds, not even a hint of light in the east. I arose and left, and although I could hear the sound of rain, it was only the trees dripping, not a drop fell on me.  I love getting up early, although I seldom am able to because of my schedule (2 am is my normal bedtime, sometimes 4 am).  I think that I’m at my best in the morning, and that by afternoon I have reached my lowest ebb.  I usually perk up at night somewhat.

When I was visiting my Dad in Texas this past summer, we left for a road trip to Florida at 3 am.  There’s something about traveling at night and very early morning, especially through country that you are unfamiliar with.  The headlights ahead of you, the rushing through the cool summer night, passing through sleeping little towns, the lack of traffic on the backroads, and then a gradual lighting in the east, the surroundings gradually coming into focus, the rising mist in the low spots, all produce a magic that is so hard to describe.  I remember such trips even as a very young child when I was carried asleep out to the car and laid in the back seat, later awakening as we moved through the early morning.  This last summer we had reached the Lousiana line just as the sun peeked above the horizon, the great lake that we were passing over gleaming gold in the light.

On such road trips, breakfast is my favorite meal.  I especially like to stop in one of those old cafes in some small town.  My last choice is the national chain restaurants with their bland and predictable character.  I also prefer to not travel the interstates.  On this trip we concentrated on the backroads that ran along the Gulf Coast through Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama.  I had always wanted to see this area, and we both enjoyed the trip very  much.

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