Your hunger for the road and all it offers is what I've craved and indulged in for decades. At different periods in my life, I've hit the road, but the purpose seems to be the same - to get the hell away. You're right, though, the older one gets, the harder it is to leave the cave. But leave the cave I must and I'm amazed that my husband is getting that same itch every Sunday. He was a marathon commuter in our early days together, so a Sunday drive was an onus. Now, as a remote worker, with fix-it projects and yard work piling up around his shoulders, he NEEDS that Sunday drive. To get the hell away, just for a few hours. After a few years, the scenery is the same with subtle changes for the seasons. But by the time we turn around to come home, it's TIME to come home. Return to the cave. Yet there are many desert roads left to explore should we have the gumption to drive in the Jeep instead of the Subaru. Adventure over comfort (and the drowsiness that overtakes us). I love this essay of yours today, Paul. It speaks to me on so many levels and distracts me on some many tangents. Bravo!
Such a soulful & evocative piece. I am a homebody to my marrow, yet your descriptions of road encounters kicked up special memories of my own smaller-scale trips. I love being (briefly) transported to another part of the world & you made a beautiful case for hitting the road.
First off, Paul, you are a great photographer. Those photos are more than just pictures. They evoke. And your eye for composition is flawless.
All my life I’ve craved taking to the road as you do, but… But, but. Excuses. Now I am disabled and could only drive far with hand controls, which I hate.
During the summer at Becoming, I wrote about several road trips I had taken since the turn of the century. None of them were as epic as yours. I envy you your freedom.
this was a wonderful read, Paul. thank you.
Your hunger for the road and all it offers is what I've craved and indulged in for decades. At different periods in my life, I've hit the road, but the purpose seems to be the same - to get the hell away. You're right, though, the older one gets, the harder it is to leave the cave. But leave the cave I must and I'm amazed that my husband is getting that same itch every Sunday. He was a marathon commuter in our early days together, so a Sunday drive was an onus. Now, as a remote worker, with fix-it projects and yard work piling up around his shoulders, he NEEDS that Sunday drive. To get the hell away, just for a few hours. After a few years, the scenery is the same with subtle changes for the seasons. But by the time we turn around to come home, it's TIME to come home. Return to the cave. Yet there are many desert roads left to explore should we have the gumption to drive in the Jeep instead of the Subaru. Adventure over comfort (and the drowsiness that overtakes us). I love this essay of yours today, Paul. It speaks to me on so many levels and distracts me on some many tangents. Bravo!
Thank you for this. Well done.
Such a soulful & evocative piece. I am a homebody to my marrow, yet your descriptions of road encounters kicked up special memories of my own smaller-scale trips. I love being (briefly) transported to another part of the world & you made a beautiful case for hitting the road.
First off, Paul, you are a great photographer. Those photos are more than just pictures. They evoke. And your eye for composition is flawless.
All my life I’ve craved taking to the road as you do, but… But, but. Excuses. Now I am disabled and could only drive far with hand controls, which I hate.
During the summer at Becoming, I wrote about several road trips I had taken since the turn of the century. None of them were as epic as yours. I envy you your freedom.
One of my favorites Paul. I loved it!