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HOOF BEATS Rob Kinnan EDITOR

airplane itinerary. It is entirely up to

you. Each intersection presents four

choices, and no permission is needed to

choose any of them. The man on a train

is mere cargo, sentient in dribs and

drabs—the driver of an automobile is

the captain of his or her own ship.”

Finally, the third event that got me

dreaming about throwing the map out

the window and enjoying the open road

to wherever was a tragic one. Davey

Johnson has gone missing from one

of his epic road trips. I’m writing this

in mid-June, so hopefully they have

some answers by the time you read

this. Davey is an automotive journalist

who writes for a lot of magazines and

websites, most notably Car and Driver.

His first road trip love was motorcycles,

and he was testing a new bike over an

approximately 1,000-mile route when

he disappeared. Authorities found the

bike, his wallet, laptop, and other per-

sonal effects, but not Davey. One theory

is that he went for a swim or soak in the

stream the bike was parked next to and

got caught up in the current that swept

him away. The search has been called

off for now, but there are many people

who hold out hope that he’ll turn up, if

only for closure.

The automotive world may seem

huge from the outside, but those of us

that live in it realize that it’s a very small

one. While we are very dysfunctional

at times, we’re still family, and the loss

of one is a loss to all. My hope is that

Davey parked by a crystal clear moun-

tain stream for a rest, wrote down some

words about his journey on the laptop,

and then either walked away for a life of

anonymity or took a relaxing swim that

didn’t turn out well but took him during

a moment of pure relaxation. The joy

of a solo road trip on the perfect bike,

on the perfect roads, and the absolute

sense of freedom that inspires—to me,

that’s a poetic way to go.

I implore anyone reading this to go

out and drive your Mustang. Point it in

one direction and travel where the road

takes you. Even if you can only spare a

single day or a few hours, head out on

the road to nowhere. Turn off the radio;

throw the map out the window; enjoy

the wind in your hair, the rumble of the

engine, and the whine of the tires; and

above all else, never stop driving.

OR THOSE WHO HAVE DRIVEN

AND THOSE WHO WILL—MAY THE

ROAD DELIVER. We all know that the

future of the automobile is autonomy,

meaning self-driving appliances

that work with the aid of GPS and

other witchcraft to (hopefully) safely

travel the highways and city streets of

America. My fatalistic theory is that

once the autonomous technology is

proven to be effective and safe, there

will come a day when Big Brother

will mandate it for the population,

effectively outlawing our ability to pilot

our own vehicles. To me, that’s about as

dystopian of a future as I can imagine.

One of the key factors in my predic-

tion is that today’s younger generation

doesn’t seem to care about the personal

freedom that an automobile provides.

Sure, they’ll play Gran Turismo for

hours a day, but once the console is

turned off, they head out to their Ubers

to take them where they need to be.

While it’s completely foreign to me, a lot

of younger people don’t even care about

getting a driver’s license, at least not

nearly to the level that you and I cared.

A self-driving vehicle allows them

to continue to pay attention to their

smart phones, stir the pot on social

media, text their friends, take self-

ies, and so on. On this year’s Hot Rod

Power Tour, I rode in Jon Marshall’s

1964 Falcon for a few days, and his

9-year-old son, Hunter, was in the

back seat, rarely taking his eyes off of

his Mario Kart game. When we were

passing through a scenic area or past

something interesting, Jon would hol-

ler, “Hunter, head up!” in an attempt

to peel him away from technology and

introduce him to the grandeur of the

American countryside.

During my childhood family road

trips, all I had was an imagination, a

few stupid road games that got old pret-

ty fast, and an obsession with collecting

beer cans (even though beer was totally

gross to me then) that had my eyes

laser-focused on the ditches beside

the car. The rest of the time was spent

staring out the window and enjoying

the varied terrain we passed through. I

got to see a lot of the country on those

trips, and I still remember it all.

Maybe that’s one reason that

road trips are cemented deeply in my

soul—a form of therapy, if you will, that

releases all of the anxiety and stress of

adult life. I’ve written about this before

but was reminded of the power of

driving by three recent events.

First, I just finished covering the

Hot Rod Power Tour, a seven-day

cross-country drive with thousands of

other vehicles. While always fun, that’s

a working road trip, so I didn’t have

much time for the de-stressing aspect

of it, but there were still moments

when I’d just forget about taking pho-

tos and shooting video and enjoy the

drive and the company of good friends.

The second event that brought me

back to it was reading a book called

Never Stop Driving from Hagerty

Insurance, edited by Larry Webster and

others, with short stories from folks

such as Jay Leno, Patrick Dempsey,

Sam Posey, Dario Franchitti, and many

more famous “car guys.” Beautifully

illustrated, the equally gorgeous prose

is aimed right at a car guy’s sweet spot,

discussing the emotions, joy, misery,

and experience that the perfect car

on the perfect road can provide. The

description on the back cover says it all:

“Walk out to your car, keys in hand.

Open the door and take a seat. What

happens next is not the product of

a train timetable, a bus schedule, an

F

Never Stop

Driving