The lure of the road

It would be fair to say people gravitate to what they know. And nothing really echoes this sentiment more than taking a moment of your childhood and reliving it – or recreating it.

My last boyfriend adored going to his childhood beach house. Still in the family, his parents were living there when we dated, and he and I would track down almost every weekend and stay overnight. We’d swap houses - his parents would stay at his home in Melbourne and we’d move into theirs.

Otherwise reserved, he came alive on return to his childhood playground. He would shed his armoury from the week's corporate battleground and reinvigorate in the tranquility of where he spent a carefree youth. He referred to the beach house as his ‘sanctuary’.

Everyone has a place they feel a strong affinity with and one that is personal to them (I understood his desire to be there and the relationship benefitted from it, but after a few months I began to miss my city weekends; brunching with friends, seeing a play, food shopping at my local market).

But to be fair, his sanctuary was exactly that. His. And mine? Well, I’ve come to realise more - my sanctuary is the road.

Growing up as a kid our family clocked up alot of miles. We lived in Alice Springs for a time and would travel back and forth to Ayers Rock (now Uluru) to show friends the iconic feature Oprah rearranged her itinerary for when Paul Simon counted it “unmissable”.

It took about four hours to reach destination and I remember the feel-good vibes experienced on the journey. Dad would let me play Melissa Etheridge and Toni Childs on the cassette player and he and my brother liked to listen to Dire Straits. We'd stop to eat mum's prepared sandwiches and snack on her home made boiled chocolate cake with chocolate icing and coconut sprinkles. The long open road, the sun beating down, the red desert surrounds.

Perhaps these memories are why my haven is as it is. Certainly they play their part.

Melbourne-based, I’ll regularly drive to Adelaide (my old home town) to visit family and I’ve driven up to Sydney twice to stay with friends this last year. Me and my old dog Walt - the road warriors.

There’s something very special about leaving a place behind and going the distance for another. No-one can get to you during this time, there’s no 'needing to be anywhere', you're only accountable to yourself (except of course the cops!) and there's a camaraderie with the truckies and other drivers. We’re all going someplace but our shared place is the long stretch of road. Where time seems to stand still.