I’ve been blogging since before there was such a thing as a blog. With a BS in Communications from the University of Miami, journalism concentration, I’ve always sought to experience the world around me from the extraordinary to the ordinary and record it, delve into how it resonates within me and how it has changed me through the years.
I am decades and a thousand miles away from that young man who wanted to go on walkabout following graduation in 1997, trying to get back to Philadelphia from Miami by going east. That fascination with what lies beyond the next hill has never gone away. That fascination with what lies buried in myself has also never gone away. At 49, with my business and house sold, I lost the tethers holding me to one place. I can now do what that young man dreamed of doing.
Steinbeck encountered much the same as what I am encountering: a longing to do it, wishful thinking, or thinking I’m crazy. –but who hasn’t thought of jumping in their car and traveling America for a few months?
My family and friends worry that roughing it will get the better of me. I’m wondering what the hell they are thinking. To me, “roughing it” means having to make do with the hotel’s coffee maker and coffee instead of my own—which I’ll be bringing. I’m a snob. I like hotels. I like nice hotels. I enjoy air conditioning, electricty, marble bathrooms with hot showers, soft towels to pat my bottom dry and turndown service
My SUV is outfitted to camp, which I’ll do from time time, but it will be the exception rather than the norm. One of the things I am practicing in preperation for my travels is typing on a laptop instead of a desktop. I also tested out how long my special coffee creamer will stay cool in the cooler.
I’ve seen other travel logs, books, videos and such. That’s not me. I am an experienced writer with over 30 years professional experience behind me, a knack for finding trouble,TMI (too much information) went out the window a long time ago, and my two favorite sayings are “I don’t give a rat’s ass” and “I’m too old for this shit.”
I’m not a pilgrim in sack cloth in search of some higher meaning. I’m just a regular guy in search of what lies beyond that next hill. From the oldest writings, from a time when the romantic first emerged: will you take my hand and travel with me, dance to the tune that plays?