Sounds of Travel 4: King of the Road

Here at Gadling we’ll be highlighting some of our favorite sounds from the road and giving you a sample of each — maybe you’ll find the same inspiration that we did, but at the very least, hopefully you’ll think that they’re good songs.

Got a favorite of your own? Leave it in the Comments and we’ll post it at the end of the series.

WEEK 4: “King of the Road” sung by Roger Miller

When my brother and I were young, our parents gave us Hummel figurine music boxes. His figurine was a small boy sitting on a fence with a bundle tied on a stick that rested on his shoulder. When the key was wound, the melody “King of the Road” played while the boy turned.

My figurine was a girl feeding chickens. Although, I dearly loved my music box– the girl looked like Heidi, that independent lass who lived in the Alps with her grandfather, I was drawn to my brother’s more. There it sat on his chest of drawers in a spot within reach.

Even before I knew the lyrics, the title of the song was enough. King of the Road. What could sound more grand?

The lyrics, though, said it all. Hitting the road without cares or worries–the thrill of being in control with each step towards the horizon. A life spent enjoying simple pleasures as long as a person can keep moving and make connections with folks along the way.

Never mind that I happened to be female–and at the time, one of the only known female travelers who got much press was Amelia Earhart–and we know how that turned out. I come from a line of women who have wandered.

Those women carried the aura of far away places, particularly Aunt Clarissa. It wasn’t the stories my great aunt told me of her time in Japan as an Army major after World War II that captured my interest–I don’t specifically remember any– it was the feeling I surmised that traveling gave her. The zippidy do dah.

When Roger Miller wrote King of the Road in 1965, he was telling the tale of a carefree traveler at the same time Miller was on the road seeking out his dreams as a singer-songwriter. After he sings in the video, Miller recalls that the song was inspired somewhere between Dayton, Des Moines or Chicago when he saw a road sign that said, “Trailers for Sale or Rent.”

What caught my attention about this version is Miller’s utter exuberance, both in his voice and his body, particularly when he belts out the third chorus and throws that fast crook in his elbow–and how the song stuck with me all day once I listened to it again.

When I think of my King of the Road experiences, the ones where this song played in my head, I am:

  • by myself on a bus heading to Maine from New Paltz, New York to work at a summer camp after my senior year in high school, the possibilities endless. This summer was late nights doing laundry so I could head out every weekend to places like Boothbay Harbor, Camden and Ogunquit, eating lobster and clams dripped in butter and skinny dipping in a lake with the moon shimmering across the water;
  • I’m walking down the streets of Arhus, Denmark, my arms swinging in stride with my legs as I head to the Viking ship museum, my entire body feeling in sync with the sidewalk beneath my feet and the breeze through my hair. I’d come alone–or if I was with someone, I can’t recall because the memory of being so in touch with my body on that day and the sense of adventure has eclipsed a companion;
  • I am walking away from my village into the Gambian bush to hang out under a tree for a few hours drinking tea, writing and listening to music, soaking up a bit of R&R from being the village Peace Corps volunteer. As cows grazed nearby and finch flitted and darted between the scrub brush, I regained balance;
  • and I am taking a friend of mine on a road trip through New Mexico so he can see how the landscape changes. As the hues of reds and browns change with each turn past Jemez as we get closer to Bandelier National Monument, we marvel at the wonder of us and our good fortune to have a car and all the time we need.

Whenever I hear that song, my feet start tappin’ and I want to head out–see new places, make new friends, visit old ones and know that the world is my oyster. What better feeling is there than being a king of the road?

Despite the lyrics, I’ve never smoked a pack of cigarettes in my life. I do, however, look at trailers with great affection.

Here’s a bit of King of the Road trivia: It’s been used in the movies: Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby, Swingers, Into the Wild, Im Lauf der Zeit (In Due Time), and if you saw Brokeback Mountain, who can forget the scene where Jake Gyllenhaal as Jack, confident and full of energy, is heading in his truck to see Ennis? King of the Road was playing on the radio. Of course, that was before Jack’s hopes were dashed.

Still, the song for me is an optimistic all will work out.

Click here for previous Sounds of Travel.

Heath Ledger died today and I’m thinking of Brokeback Mountain and Wyoming

Wow! I am truly in shock. I was writing up another post and swung over to The New York Times on line when I saw Heath Ledger was found dead today. How awful and how odd. I just saw him this weekend in the movie “I’m Not There” and earlier today, before I heard he had died, I thought, you know, when I think of Heath Ledger, he’s Ennis Del Mar working on a ranch in Wyoming. What is he doing playing an incarnation of Bob Dylan? Yes, yes, I know it’s acting, but there are some roles and some landscape vistas that go together so well that they play over and over in ones head as if there is a movie camera in there.

The summer after I saw “Brokeback Mountain” we drove through Wyoming on our way from Colorado to Montana and back through Wyoming again. I thought of Ennis and wondered how he was doing without Jack. Again, yes, yes, I know Ennis is a fictitious character created by Annie Proulx, but still, her short story and the movie captured a certain quality of Wyoming so perfectly. (Yes, I know that it was shot in Canada, but it looked like Wyoming.)

As I recently posted, John Ur is writing about movies that capture a sense of place. “Brokeback Mountain” is one that certainly does that. And without Heath Ledger, “Brokeback Mountain” wouldn’t have been the same kind of movie that made people look at Wyoming in a new, different way.

Starring Brad Pitt … and Southern Alberta

Drive an hour outside of the city limits of my hometown of Calgary, and you’re apt to come across some of the most beautiful scenery you’ve ever seen. From rolling foothill’d prairieland to towering, ragged mountaintops that are so high they block out late-afternoon sun to vibrant desert hoodoos, we seem to have it all (well, except for warm winters and beaches — I wish.) So it’s no surprise that Hollywood comes here often to shoot movies which call for wild, expansive, breathtaking scenery.

Ever see Brokeback Mountain? How about The Assassination of Jesse James? Legends of the Fall? Though none of these films are actually set in Alberta, they were all filmed here, under the endless prairie sky. And in each case, the scenery plays a starring role in the film — how can it not?

I’m embarrassed to admit that it took seeing it in the movies to make me realize how gorgeous this part of the world is. Being a habitual city-dweller, it’s hard to see much beyond pavement and rooftops and headlights. It took seeing it through someone else’s eyes to realize that not far from my own doorstep lies pure, divine heaven on earth.