NewMexiKen has taken road trips of 400 miles or more scores of times in my life. I have no idea how many miles I might have driven (or been the passenger), but 200,000 does not seem far-fetched.
Driving from Denver to Albuquerque yesterday on slick, slippery, slushy roads was a bit more of an adventure than usual, but only about 50 miles of the 450 were what might be called truly treacherous. I did see several cars and one tractor-trailer that had slip-slided away. The truck was on its side, half-on and half-off the road. Trucks like that seem like dead animals in some bizarre way, their wheels in the air.
Over the years, while on road trips, I’ve had four or five flat tires, run out of gas once or twice, blown a VW engine on a cold day on I-80 one Thanksgiving weekend, and can think of a half-dozen speeding tickets (in 40+ years). Once it seemed I slept behind the wheel the entire distance from Dayton to Toledo — at least I had no memory of the 200 miles. But nothing ever serious.
I’d like to think it’s all skill, but I know it’s mostly good luck.