More Great Drives from TCC 

My definition of a Great Road Trip is one in which you do NOT have to bear down on a straight line between two points, making the best time possible. Instead, in a Great one, you take your time, stopping - even U-turning - to read the historical markers, wander off onto byways, enjoy the scenery, generally savor the journey.

The last such trip I experienced took place more than 30 years ago. In fact as a family of five we took two such trips, back to back in 1972 and 1973, roaming from Michigan out over the great West.

My generation-ago wheels were six-passenger Mercury Colony Park station wagons, powered by the monster Lincoln 460-cid V-8 (that's 7.7 liters) and equipped with eight-track tape sound system, innovative (for the time) reclining front seats, and huge rear under-floor cargo space (in lieu of center-facing rear seats where four more kids could have ridden). Note these odysseys preceded the Arab Oil Boycott and its resulting fuel-price doubling and federally imposed 55-mph fuel-saving speed limits.

Before that, on the Interstates, it was slow to cruise at 80 mph. Are we (back) there yet?

That first leisurely vacation was over the northern route, mainly I-80 and the Oregon Trail. The follow-up went southwestward, roughly paralleling the old Chicago -to-Los Angeles Route 66 of song and TV fame. National Parks and a dude ranch were on both agendas. The kids were aged 6, 9, and 11 for the five-week '72 journey.

A very different road

My Last (?) Great Road Trip, subject of this report, was very different. For one thing, I was flying solo. For another, the trip was purposeful in that I was eager to try out, over a two-week period and a variety of driving and road conditions, the new Ford Freestyle - the station wagon version, verily, of the Ford Five Hundred/Mercury Montego - especially for its radical new all-wheel drive and continuously variable transmission.

Okay, Ford calls the Freestyle a crossover, even a CUV, but I totally agree (for once) with Consumer Reports, which labels it a station wagon. And, yes, CVTs have been around - they're used mostly on hybrids - but not hooked up to such a robust engine as the 3.0-liter, 203-hp DOHC V-6 in the 'Style.

Let me say right now that I think Ford goofed on the name. Am I the only one who confuses it with Freestar, the ill-renamed Windstar? I would have suggested, say, Country Sedan, which is how Ford used to label its big wagons that were slightly downscale from the faux wood-grain-paneled Country Squires. So, until Ford heeds my advice, I'll just call this wagon the 'Style.

The other thing about this Last (?) trip was that I was delegated to attend two not-quite back-to-back annual meetings, Society of Professional Journalists in Las Vegas at the beginning of the period, and Defense Orientation Conference Association in San Diego at the end of the two weeks. What to do in between? Road Trip! Climb up the high desert of Nevada, mess around in the Sierras, grind through Bay area traffic jams and then wind down California 1/US-101, the Left Coast 's favorite seaside highway so favored by auto advertising filmers. I'd driven some legs of this before, but never on a single loop trip.

Wandering the streets of L.A.

When I picked up the 'Style at LAX, it showed exactly 9600 on the odometer and 17 mpg on the fuel-economy readout. The first thing I noticed about the vehicle was ease of entry: no high step as with mounting into an SUV or full-sized van, no ducking one's head to avoid the roof as with most sedans. Seat bottoms are deep, with full thigh support. A people-friendly car at last!

Wandering around metro Los Angeles expressways and streets for a couple of days, the mpg readout rose to 23. Note that I have total faith in these readouts because I know they derive from electronic measures of the fuel passing into the injectors.

Out of the L.A. basin towards Sin City on I-15, the altitude picks up steadily, crossing a pass at 4250 feet into high desert country. The only way you can tell when the ultra-smooth and quiet CVT is downshifting on a ten-mile, six-percent grade is the jump up in engine speed on the tach.

I soon recalled, and puzzled over, the lack of mile markers along interstate highways in California and Nevada . In most of the country, motorists are accustomed to such markers along the way to measure distance traveled or miles to exits or destinations. They are also vital for summoning emergency help. But for inexplicable reasons, the West marches to a different drummer. Not even the presence on some routes of regular-interval emergency telephones - powered by solar panels - does the trick, at least for this driver.

A hundred miles west of LV , you note a sign: " Zzyzx Road ." Hmmm. Lack of imagination, ran out of alphabet or what? Soon you see another sign saying "Avoid Overheating - Turn Off Air Conditioning Next 16 Miles." Hmmm. Wonder what that's about? Another sign warns off-roaders in the desert to take one gallon of water per day per person, and to stay with the vehicle if problems arise. Wish I'd had the time to explore nearby Death Valley, supposedly very beautiful with desert flowers after fall rains.

The only notable thing about driving around LV is that all the glitzy hotels offer free parking, to encourage visits by the armies of gamblers.

A few days later, departing Las Vegas northbound on two-lane US-95, I noted gas mileage, though Highway, had declined slightly to 22.4 due to 70+ speeds up the long grades. I'd also noticed another nice feature - among many - of the 'Style: the turn signal was nice and loud, and soon a warning sounded if you ignored the fact it was still engaged. I like this better than the silent type, after noting many Golden Age drivers seem to drive blissfully on forever with the signals blinking away, leaving fellow motorists wondering whether a turn is imminent.