Fortunately for all of you, I’m wide awake in America at 4:30 AM. That’s unfortunate for me, by the way, but hey — this isn’t about me. It’s about a long drive on a Sunday in February of 2006.

The road from Birmingham to Chicago is really an easy drive, especially in a car with cruise control. Set your car to 80 or 85 (mileage may vary, as they say) and just go. There’s not a lot of traffic, if you pick your time wisely — I hit rush hour bullshit on the way out of Birmingham on Thursday afternoon at four, and Chicago at 3 PM is busier than I would have thought, but that was it for busy roads.

For the most part, it’s a really pleasant drive. The spaces between Birmingham, Nashville, Louisville, and Indinanapolis are long enough to relax without getting too hypnotized. Sadly, this does leave the final stretch, from Indianapolis to Chicago (about 150 miles between city and Skyway) — and as either beginning or end of a journey, not a road you particularly want to be endlessly driving. At least, that’s what it feels like.

Thursday’s drive was beyond mindless, punctuated by a single stop for fuel in Louisville and a little ice on the road in Gary, Indiana, just before the changeover to toll roads in Illinois. At that point, I was so excited about returning to Chicago that it didn’t matter, and I picked the right music (Devin Townsend’s Terria) to carry me into the home stretch. It was a little unnerving, hitting the roads that potentially held black ice patches — after driving 8 hours, it would have been what Alanis Morissette would call ironic (translation: not really) to wreck just outside of my destination. But I made it okay, and Bree’s directions were spot on.

The road home, of course, would not be so easy — though somehow, faster. The weather conditions were nearly unbearable: I drove through four states, from snow to rain to snowy rain through country music and finally into a few flurries as far south as twenty miles from home. There were a few moments of whiteout driving in Indiana, not so bad except for the moron driving about 100 mph through the non-existent visibility. It wasn’t until I hit the Tennessee / Kentucky border that I felt genuinely endangered, though — I had somehow let it slip my mind that 95% of southern drivers are incapable of driving in even the most remotely winter-like conditions. From the state line into Nashville, the roads were a mess — no salt + enough snow to cover the asphalt * drivers in awe of nature = accident waiting to happen. Fortunately, the few close calls that I saw or experienced remained just that, and I finally hit the mountains of southern Tennessee, cruising at a cozy 90 mph.

Total time: 8:45:00, give or take something.

The best part of the drive was the area on the midst of dull, rolling Indiana. Snow covered the ground, white as far as the eye could see, and the moon was cresting the horizon in the east, a brilliant eye of yellow-orange greeting the evening. The trees didn’t hold the snow as well as those in Kentucky and Tennessee, but it was still a beautiful sight, the entire land lit up with reflective natural radiance.

It’s unfortunate that those who get the good snow are so accustomed to the sight (and perhaps even irritated by it) as to be unimpressed. The beauty of winter is truly something to be respected and appreciated, no matter where you live or how inconvenient it may prove to be.