June 25, 1998. Leave Yuma at midnight. Head north along the Colorado.
1986 Mazda B2200 pickup with a shell. Carpet kit with a comforter, bag of clothes, guitar.
Two years out of college. Philosophy degree. Deep desire to explore – myself and the country.
Drive four months. 25,000 miles.
47 states.
The Salmon River in Idaho. Mosquitos the size of woodpeckers in Minnesota. Jazz in the Village. Body surfing in the Outer Banks of Carolina.
Honky-tonking in Nashville. Too much rum on Bourbon Street. Singing with hundreds of new friends at a piano bar in San Antonio. Surreal sunsets in Arches, Utah.
The I-25 freeway where the house where I was born used to be in Albuquerque.
The freedom. The curiosity. The growth. The experience. The learning. The people. The equanimity. The beauty. The stories. The belonging.
The vast dynamism of the human condition.
Now, a mortgage, two cars, two kids, property taxes, a career, responsibility, sore joints, thinning hair, financial security, infinite wisdom and maturity.
All the mod cons. All the middle class trappings.
And the same spirit. The same approach. Friendships. Relationships. Self-actualization. Focus. Freedom from choice. Empathy. Curiosity. Belonging.
The vast dynamism of the human condition. Still.
Now from my basement.