Wanderlust in the Time of Coronavirus (A GeoEx eBook)

Wanderlust in the Time of Coronavirus

Bay Area Road Trip: A Glimpse of Future Travel

serendipitously gave me my own small glimpse into what at least one aspect of future travel may look like. This began when I unexpectedly had to drive to Redwood City to pick up a package. Redwood City is about 40 miles south of my home. There are two routes to get there, one that parallels primarily characterless urbanscapes on the east side of San Francisco Bay and the other that passes through San Francisco and into surprisingly unspoiled countryside on the west side of the bay. I make this journey about a dozen times a year, and normally, the San Francisco route is so congested that Google Maps will send me via the eastern route, which is usually a half- hour quicker. But this time, when I got in the car and fired up Google Maps, it told me that I should drive via the San Francisco route and that the entire drive would take about 40 minutes. After two months of sheltering in place, with my driving basically restricted to the local grocery store, I was already feeling a little giddy at the prospect of venturing so far from home. When Google told me to drive via San Francisco, I felt almost intoxicated. Suddenly it hit me: road trip! I was going on my first road trip in what felt like an eternity. This exhilaration was enhanced by perfect road trip weather: a sun-drenched day with a deep blue sky festooned here and there with fleecy white clouds, with the temperature in the high 70s. I ran back inside and gathered some appropriate road trip provisions: a dozen carrot sticks, a chocolate chip granola bar, and a bottle of coffee Frappuccino. Then, sitting in my driveway, I lowered all the windows and—on a wild impulse— opened the sunroof. Now, this is living! I thought. As I started the engine, “Born to Be Wild” played in my mind. I backed out of the driveway. My adventure had begun.

Driving toward the highway, with the wind blowing through the car and ruffling my hair, I felt liberated and full of energy. Anything was possible. The world stretched ahead, vast and limitless as the Pacific. I closed the car windows when I got on the highway, but I kept the sunroof open, and the sun poured through like a soul- soothing balm. Long ago, in pre-pandemic times, I would drive this road three or four times a week. I had done this for decades. But this time, as I was approaching the Bay Bridge, my jaw dropped. I was stunned. I had never noticed the bridge’s balletic beauty. It looked like a ballerina in a white tutu performing an elegant grand jeté across the glinting blue-gray waters of the bay. This bridge is spectacular! I exclaimed to myself. As I entered the Bay Bridge, on my right, a half-dozen sailboats scudded on brilliant white wings through the glinting waters. Beyond them— Oh, wow! —the International Orange icon of the Golden Gate Bridge gleamed dreamily like some towered talisman, entryway to the shimmering infinity beyond. Then the silver and blue-green towers of San Francisco appeared like a high-tech Camelot. There was endearing Coit Tower, surrounded by green trees, atop the pastel cubist cupcake of Russian Hill. There was the Transamerica Pyramid poking quixotically into the sky. And there was the architectural enfant terrible , Salesforce Tower, ready to blast into the clouds. Spectacular! As I neared the end of the bridge, I saw another wonder: a vast rectangular signboard seemingly floating in the air. It showed a photograph of a woman in the foreground wearing sunglasses and standing in front of tram tracks. There was an eye-catching reflection of something in her glasses, and behind her, next to the tracks, a row of stately homes. Beneath her was a line of text that read “Shot on iPhone.” Billboards! I said to myself. What a brilliant idea! Whoever

50

51