Roadtripping in the Nearly Come Futures
The long, thick and sludgy Ohio lakeside Interstates. Giant, lengthy bridges crossing Great Lakes dangerously close to Canadians and their bordering differences. Mighty Northern Mountain States where speed limits are as sparse as the policemen, or civilization in general. Snowy peaked mountain caps jutting triangular from the Earthy limits of us and our car to prove to cloud, sky and sun that pointing up is the only way to go.
Whether fjording rivers in Mississippi mucky misadventures, Modest Mouse blaring and the AC pumping out open windows; whether God-of-Wind blowing fires alight in the Rocky Mountain Grizzly Bear forests of wherever-we-may-roam, America; whether sipping pints of lager on sun-scorching wooden decks in the middles of some city, someplace; a family of roadtrippers we are, always were and always will be as long as time and heaven look mirror-mirror down on us.
The driver, bearded and no stranger to the road, the scent of burning camel on his fingers and the weary determination of relentless driving in his eyes. The navigator, highlighter in hand burning our course through an atlas that will go from being just another $10 glossy book on the stores of some wayside convenience store to the plotter of our course. And of course, the roustabout, back-seated and peering into a strange new land of amazement, gathering the sticks and stones that will make a home out of each and every random spot along the road.
And in the end, after all of the “are we there yets”, the all too often cigarette smoke coming from the driver’s side windows and the little peculiarities that we’ll all dwell on and push at and pick in between, I foresee a good, grand adventure ahead.
Up Next: Deodorizing Aspirations