A chapter on the state of Journey Proud

It’s when you set your heart to wake at 3 AM to get a deep, dark start on the journey,
and drive straight into thunderstorms.
Notice every Greyhound going west, or the cross beside the road with a
wreath at the “Auto Repair” sign and find it significant.
Exit signs. Watch the odometer register150,000 miles and
celebrate the life of the 1990 Olds Eighty-Eight.
Watch windmills turn in the western, autumn landscape and
feel just as blown round as they. Zoom down the road at 70 mph
when the sun finally breaks through the clouds.

It’s the need to see all that, to feel it wear away your sit bones
as you ponder what is or might be meaningful as you get older,
sitting in your rolling couch. When you’re at one with the
truckers, and signal them back into the lane ahead of you.
When you depend on the kindness of your friends to
shelter you on a moment’s notice, depend on their
spontaneous impulses, like the ones that brought you
out on this highway.