I have this fabulous friend who is literally selling all of her belongings and hitting the road. When I last spoke with her, she had a general end destination, but the journey was far more important– as it usually is.
I have to say that I’ve had more than one pang of envy since speaking with her. This is not to say that I don’t love aspects of my life here. For instance, there is a boy I’m quite fond of, and I have some fairly outstanding friends. However, there is still a longing to get in the car and go.
Perhaps this is no more than my annual wanderlust. As you’ll recall, last July I ended up in the Monterey area because I pointed the car north and kept going. Or perhaps this is a reaction to the complications of life: long-term experimental unemployment leading to a, hopefully, short-term lack of money, pitching, production, writing, re-writing and the occasional elevator outage. Whatever the cause, there’s a part of me that idealizes hitting the road and seeing where life, and the jeep, would take me.
Would I write the next great American novel or travel guide along the way? Maybe. Or maybe I would just enjoy the ride.
Have you ever just hit the road without a specific goal in mind?