Driving up to the northern wastes I am reminded how much I like the motion, the change in scenery, the changes in elevation.

Michigan has it’s own flavor, Ontario as well. I love both and while I end up driving a lot and seeing things pass by my window, I also want to take each sideroad and wander to it’s end, see each giant ball of tinfoil or rock formation, meet the locals, buy some cheese. I put the daughter behind the wheel and lean against the window, let the vibration of the road lull me to sleep, and dream. I dream of winning the lottery, of having the money to buy a motorhome comfortable enough for three, and getting in and driving. Across the plains, up into the mountains, through lonely passes and crowded cities.

I dream of waking up in Montana to a late october chill and getting in and driving to texas to warm my bones.

Late in his life, possibly after he found out he was dying, Steinbeck had a custom camper made and drove it around the US,satisfying for good and all his wanderlust. He famously called the camper Rocinante, and took his dog Charley, and wrote “Travels with Charley”

I know what he felt. I wonder if I will have the warning he did, and the sense to use the time that well.

One thing for sure: if i do win the lottery one of the first things i will do is travel to where i can see it rain on every place where it does