“Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road, / Healthy, free, the world before me, / The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.”
When I first read these lines from Song of the Open Road by the American poet Walt Whitman back in university, I had no idea they would play as significant a role in my life as they have. They struck a chord in my unconscious on that day long ago, a chord of personal and spiritual freedom that continues to vibrate to this day.
Driving from Moncton to Fredericton on the four-lane Trans-Canada Highway recently, I thought about Whitman’s words. It was one of those nights when it seemed you could see every star in the galaxy, and because there was not much traffic, I could relax and immerse myself in the quiet of the moment.
How could so many years have passed so quickly, I wonder as I pass a sign that says Coles Island? In the 1960s, my mother always took the Coles Island cutoff to get back and forth from Fredericton to our cottage at Pointe-du-Chêne in Shediac. She owned a red 1963 Galaxie 500 convertible, which she loved almost as much as the Parlee Beach cottage she bought after my father’s tragic death in 1957.
I remember summer nights when she would load my sister and me into the back seat, and off we’d go for drives along the Northumberland Strait with the top down. Sometimes we’d stop and get fried clams or fish and chips at Goulds, which was on the main road into Shediac. Sometimes she’d treat us to lobster, but that was rare because she preferred to boil them up herself at home.
I can still feel how the warm night air felt on my face as we cruised along quietly under the stars and how the salty air mixed with the earthy smell of the marram grass. Wrapped in the enthusiasm and wonder of childhood, I was in my own universe as I gazed upwards, “Healthy, free, the world before me.”
I’m still in that universe, I think, as I notice the lights of a tractor-trailer appear in my rear-view mirror. For five or ten minutes, I watch as they get closer until the driver finally pulls out to pass. Looking over at him when his rig is beside me in the passing lane, I can’t help but wonder where he’s been and where he’s heading. Seeing his face illuminated by the dashboard, I wonder what his life is like. What’s he thinking about?
When I see that his trailer is a safe distance ahead, I flick my headlights, signalling to him that his tail is clear of my car and it’s safe to pull into the right lane.
I always enjoy watching the truck’s taillights flick on and off quickly as the driver signals his appreciation, and my new friend in the rig ahead of me doesn’t let me down. Taking part in this ritual with truckers makes me feel connected to their world and their road-culture spirit of independence, and “the long brown path before them leading wherever they choose.”
As their rigs cruise by, penetrating the darkness with their powerful headlights, I feel a sense of kinship with them. “Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road, / Healthy, free, the world before me, / The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.”
Like me, they’re looking forward to seeing friends and loved ones at the other end of this long ribbon of pavement. Like me, they’ve taken to the open road and are thinking about their lives alone under the stars as they cruise smoothly through the darkness. And like me, in the quiet of the moment, they’re wondering where the time went.
