Half the fun of the travel is the esthetic of lostness…
Source: Ray Bradbury
Photo: Rudiger Schafer
Inky’s Take: Fridays 4:00 PM you could find me filling the gas tank of my beat up Subaru before pointing the car, ‘away’. Headed in any general direction, a ratty duffel in back filled with jeans, t-shirts, and other basic essentials. A few bucks in my front pocket, three tinfoil wrapped sandwiches and a thermos of coffee by my side; a perfect storm recipe for a meander as I’d hit the road to where ever the heck I wound up.
Saturdays would find me sweet talking farmers into letting me milk cows, bail hay, or fishermen into letting me pull nets, open scallops, or gut fish, helping out at day markets, cleaning old barns, lying in the middle of a wheat field counting clouds, or the pinnacle of my wandering days finding myself smack dab in the middle of a reservation, the Subaru sputtering badly. I spent the day listening to small talk watching an old mechanic work fussily beneath the car’s hood as the collective of grizzled face men keeping him company, made hilarious observations about the world. The car was fixed at no charge to me, and I came away with such an immense freeing feeling of lightness at the gift, shared stories and laughter.
Sundays usually found me heading back by the straightest route possible. I never felt more rested, more at peace with myself and everything around me. Now, in the autumn of my life, I long to go back, to take off – ‘away’ again. I miss it and the one on one with the world…
…maybe when the sons aren’t watching… (heartfelt sigh) such a temptation.