In
business all too often we read of a company describing its business plan as a
journey. At some point an idea flourished that developed into a product or
service over time. Customers were won over by something unique, timely or
simply an opportunistic way to beat the competition. Business journeys however
are littered with detours and plenty of accidents. How often have we read of a
business becoming a train wreck?
And
yet, business journeys are spelled out in excruciating detail with an expectation
that target markets will be impressed by our mere presence. Then again, there
is always the pride a company exhibits whenever it talks - more than likely as desserts are being served - of its business plans initially
being mapped out on the back of a napkin.
It
is our lot these days to be practicing self-isolation. Quarantined behind the
very same door we so often look back at when starting a journey. The global pandemic has us looking for new
ways to keep our minds active even as our refrigerators offer a depressing
summary of the detours we are routinely making. Nothing but ice cream,
cheesecakes, chocolate frosting and soda; ignoring the refrigerator has become
an art form.
It
is at these very difficult times in our place of abode when thoughts of freedom
take hold. The freedom of the open road, seas and skies; it doesn’t matter your
preference, but just the thought of taking those first steps away from the
front door that we are longing to do.
From
childhood, it’s been all about the open road. Family vacations up and down the
coast of New South Wales (NSW), Australia. Sedans, station wagons, caravans and
holiday rentals! As a family, we did it all and I remember all so well when
somewhere outside of Newcastle, dad’s Holden hit 90 mph on a straight stretch
of road.
Perhaps
he should never have done that as it made a long-lasting impression on me and
just like Toad of Toad Hall in Wind in the Willows:
“Wonderful! Spellbinding!
Outrageously magnificent! Was there ever such a master of motorcars as Toad of
Toad Hall?”
Margo
and I have driven over the summit from both directions. First it was me
handling the mass of a Cadillac Escalade and then it was Margo’s turn.
Beginning our journey late in the afternoon and approaching it from the
Tennessee side, Margo had the benefit of tackling these turns in our Nissan
GT-R and I am still not sure how that all came about.
Nissan
or Cadillac? Supercar or a truck? Didn’t really matter in the end as the
journey entertained us both regardless of who was driving what and there are
always photographers set up alongside the road willing to take photos of
whatever passes by.
Growing
up in the state of NSW, wasn’t all that unlike growing up in California. The
only big difference is that very few highschoolers in NSW could afford a car or
even lived in a family that allowed them to drive the family car. If you
wondered what the significance of the Honda motorcycle (below) - it is almost
identical to my first motorized vehicle. At a cost of AUS$250, way back in
1969, it marked the beginning of a journey that shows no signs of ending to
this day.
For
a small displacement motorcycle, it was very loud but it handled beautifully
and easily accelerated to 90 mph. I know as on one occasion, with a passenger
aboard (and with no passenger set of foot-pegs), I uncorked the bike on a trip
down the Pacific Highway. Recklessness was the half of it but youth knows no
fear.
The
trip started in the suburb of Waitara, and the destination was just past
Chatswood. It was a Sunday night and church had finished and it was the only
means of transportation to take one young lass back to her home in Willoughby. However,
as I passed the railway station at Turramurra I smiled as unexpectedly, the
crowd that had just alighted from the train, all began cheering. Had to be the
bike, right? Had to be my skilled execution of the difficult turn across the
railway line? Well, not exactly.
As
traffic lights at the next suburb, Pymble, turned red I dutifully braked to a
stop. It was then that a Highway Patrol Mini Cooper S, with sirens and lights
roaring and flashing, pulled across the front of me. “Didn’t you hear my siren?
Didn’t you notice my lights?” Well, actually without a working rear view mirror
(both removed, what’s behind me is not important, as someone once said) and an
un-muffled exhaust, well no, I hadn’t noticed a thing … seriousl! Follow me to
the Pymble Police Station as I am going to have to lock you up - but then the
journey took an unexpected turn.
As
we pulled away from the curb, my passenger wasn’t quite quick enough in lifting
her feet off the road depositing her brand new shoes planted and upright in the
middle of the highway. Without giving it a second thought, I executed a perfect
360 turn back to where the shoes stood, by which time the Policeman took
another call and waved goodbye.
As
for the court appearance and the subsequent fine, I had to commit to not ride that
bike for three years, which by the time of the actual court appearance, I had
already sold. Troublemaker? No doubt! At that point, I had discovered cars and
bought my first one – a Holden Torana GTR. A precursor to Holden’s SuperV8s
that soon followed!
It
took a couple of posts on Facebook to remind me of this story and I just couldn’t
leave out the most challenging ride of all. Cresting Macquarie Pass along the
Illawarra Highway running between Wollongong and the Robertson pub proved to be
an awesome challenge. Even today:
“The
road is narrow, and for the most part has no center-line; although center-lines
have been recently added in a couple of sections. The pass is quite notorious
for accidents due to its nature, and drivers and riders are required to be
cautious.”
Every
Friday night, motorcyclists would gather along Wollongong’s Crown Street and
then head off south before turning west up the mountain. I had run a little
late as I was still fitting new accessories to the bike but as I made it into
Wollongong, watching the tail lights of other bikes disappear into the night,
my headlamp stopped working. No worries, I would tackle this climb to Robertson
– my first time ever on this strip of pavement – riding blind. I made it, but
no beers that night and shaking like a leaf, I made it safely back down the
mountain … who knew?
Journeys
took on a whole new meaning when I arrived in California. As for challenging
roads there were none more accessible than those along the coastline. Of
course, Highway 1 – the Pacific Coast Highway – is an all-time favorite and
there is no better way to enjoy it than from the seat of a convertible. I have
driven it in a Mustang convertible, a Viper roadster, Vette Z06 and yes, even our much-loved Pontiac Solstice. Each and every time it has been a different experience.
Then
again, for those who are familiar with the canyons around Malibu, there is
always Decker and then Mulholland Drive. Rarely an opportunity to travers
Mulholland was missed and even as it crossed some major canyon roads, it was
the drive you just had to do whenever you had a new car. There were
photographers set up on the descent down to Mulholland’s famous Rock Store and
after each drive, you always checked out the photographers’ web site to see if
you made the cut. Which we did more than once: As for that Viper roadster, it
was always able to catch the eye of the photographer if not the ear.
A
lesser known story is that our plan to trade the Solstice for the Viper in 2008
didn’t come about as we liked the Solstice too much and kept it for quite a
while. When it comes to our journey with cars, this proved to be a major detour
as it marked the beginning of Margo and my retention of a total of six cars for
an extended period of time. Who knew; it’s America and cars continue to play an
important role in the lives of many Americans. Given the relative inexpensiveness
compared to other markets, why not have options when it comes to beginning a
new journey?
The
Cache la Poudre River Canyon that
starts in Ft Collins and takes you all the way up to Walden is perhaps our
favorite summer-through-fall Coloradan journey. It’s about 100 miles long and closely
follows the Poudre River. As for its name, Cache
la Poudre River Canyon literally translates to "the powder's hiding
place" or so we have been told. As for the Peak-to-Peak highway that
climbs past 10,000 feet and traverses the mountains between Golden and Estes
Park, it’s an absolute must in the fall.
Mulholland Drive, Tale of the Dragon, Poudre River and not forgetting California State Route 35 (or, as the locals call it, Skyline Boulevard) or even the drive to the top of Pikes Peak. Further north, there is the drive down the Simon Fraser River connecting the mountains of Alberta to the harbors in British Columbia; all of the journeys that come to mind along these beautiful yet challenging roads. The good news here is that it’s a big country and America has still many roads left to explore. And that’s just west of the Mississippi.
Thinking
back on the many road trips Margo and I have taken has led to a desire to do
even more road trips and in this time of sadness when so much around us is
changing, we cannot help but think it’s getting close to when we can once
again, venture out onto the highway.
Journeys
do have a starting place and more often than not reference a point in time. But
journeys do not necessarily have an ending. How often have we read of trips
being about the journey and not the destination? It may surprise you that in
business, even as we so casually reference the journey our company may be on,
there is rarely any reference to an end point – business wants to keep on,
keeping on (as the bunny reminds us each time he comes on screen).
American
has always been on a journey. There has always been a sense of needing to
explore. To seek adventure and to push the boundaries wherever possible! But
did we ever experience quite the epidemic that has now so captivated us all?
Historically, there have been much worse epidemics, but none of us ever lived
through them.
It’s
a new experience for us all. And yet, the thirst to go outside has rarely been
slated and so, as talk of lifting restrictions and of changing rules to
guidelines, then perhaps it’s a positive thing to once again consider hitting
the highways and continuing the journey we all enjoy taking. Perhaps, it really
does come back to whether indeed, "Was there ever such a master of motorcars as Toad of Toad Hall?”
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