The current complaint du jour is about the high price of gasoline, something Americans are just getting accustomed to, but Europeans have been dealing with high gas prices for years. Yes, it seems odd to pay close to $3 a gallon for gasoline, but I just traveled 2252 miles, purchasing $138.34 worth of gas, for a cost of 16.3 cents per mile. Broken down that way, it looks like a bargain, considering I can’t afford to buy the most gas efficient vehicle on the market. So let’s find something else to focus on, or use alternative methods of transportation.

There is something very relaxing about auto travel, especially if you allow yourself enough time to stop at a roadside attraction or to just meander at a slower pace. A lax schedule is the key I think. I needed to be in Illinois by a certain date to see the whole family at once, but I had several days to get there, making the journey one of leisure instead of a concentrated run to keep a date. I decided to include a jog to Indianapolis to see some cousins I hadn’t seen in years and they thoughtfully congregated in one place to make that reunion easy for me too.

My co-pilot on the trip was my beagle Snazzy. This was only her second extended car trip and she was a trooper. The backseat was her primary domain, complete with toys and a bone, but she often stood with her front paws on the console, looking out the front window with intense concentration, as if she were trying to identify passing license plates. She never complained about my book choice on tape or the music I played, or the temperature of the vehicle. All she wanted was at least one rear window lowered so she could stick her head out and sniff. Her nose was twitching like she was auditioning for Bewitched. That she did it at 70 mph was amazing. I wouldn’t stick my head out at 70 mph, and she didn’t keep it out there for too long at each stretch, but she seemed to like it.

The weather throughout the first leg of the trip was perfect—cool enough to not need the air conditioner and dry. I’m not happy driving in the rain, and rain was a constant companion on the first day of the trip back down south, but my sister was driving, so it was all OK.

The trip off the interstate winding down to Bloomington, Ind. on a two-lane road was postcard pretty, even in the rain. Living in Florida you forget about hills and curves and roads carved through limestone and granite. When we hit the campus, the memory of the main roads came back to me immediately, even though it has been years since the campus map was imprinted on my brain.

The first stop was a trip to the bookstore so I could buy a bumper sticker. I told them I thought it was odd that bumper stickers could not be purchased online and one was forced to drive 900 miles to get one, and they seemed surprised too. Should I buy any more cars before I die, I solved the problem by buying one of those license plate holders touting IU, so I’m covered for decades.

And I found my brick at the school of education too. Apparently not too many folks fell for the buy the brick campaign. The walkway was perhaps 100 feet in length—I’m not good at these sorts of guestimates—but it was about the same distance as home plate to second base, and the width of 20 bricks. Many of the bricks were blank, but whoever laid the bricks made a nice pattern of the blank ones and the ones with writing. Mine had coveted corner placement and was succinct: Leah Stratmann BS’71. It was BS in ’71 and it is still BS in ’06.

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