Traveling the old-fashioned way

            On my 15th birthday, I was the first one in line at the Department of Motor Vehicles for my driver's test. There was no greater gift my parents could've given me than permission to get my license.

            After all these years, I still love getting behind the wheel of my car, cranking up the engine and heading out. My car is the means to freedom – to explore new places, visit friends or check out a new cafe.

            When I'm driving by myself, I can crank up a Josh Groban CD and sing along at the top of my lungs. I can listen to books on CD and play my favorite passages over and over again.

            Most of my trips are short ones, but on long trips, I love to stop at welcome centers because states usually put their best foot forward there.

            Florida's welcome site offers free orange juice, and Mississipp's center is a relaxing place to spend a few minutes.

            The Texas welcome center near the Sabine River is an opportunity to have your picture taken in front of the giant star and then stroll on the outdoor boardwalk where the noise and heat of the interstate disappears while you see a slice of Texas up close.

            When I saw a sign for a new welcome center in the heart of Louisiana's Atchafalaya Basin, I decided to exit the bumper-to-bumper traffic and see what they had to offer.

            I'm so glad I did because the center was a step into a true slice of the Pelican state, from the old bricks on the floor to the smell of freshly brewing Community coffee. Welcome center volunteers are usually friendly, but these folks chatted with everybody who came through the door.

            An animatronic display features a talking raccoon, turtle and alligator, and some kids and I enjoyed watching a fun explanation about Louisiana. Outside, bronze statues of pelicans and turtles are a perfect place for youngsters to climb and sit.

            Before I left, I picked up a map of Louisiana, even though others around me were checking their smart phones and tablets for the best way to maneuver down a crowded interstate.

            Those travelers can stay glued to their smart phones. For me, nothing beats unfolding a paper highway map and seeing the whole state at once and deciding to follow the small black lines instead of the heavy red interstate lines.

            While on those narrow black lines, I've driven past acres of tall sugar cane stalks and delicate Spanish moss swaying from ancient live oak trees.

            Those maps have guided me to local coffee shops and bakeries as well as the opportunity to see the real people and sights of a city instead of a quick burger and soda a quarter mile from the interstate.

            While following the thin black lines, I've driven over creaky wooden bridges that suggest you just might not make it to the other side and past local farmers selling watermelons and corn on the side of the road. Travelers never see this side of life if they don't get off the thick lines of the map.

            Even though my smart phone can give me verbal directions, nothing's better than turning off that phone and enjoying a slice of cherry pie while looking out over a slow-moving Main Street.

            As I folded the map back up – a feat in itself – I knew that any time I wanted a bit of adventure, all I had to do was get out that paper map and get behind the wheel of my car.

 This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.