Well the danger on the rocks is surely past
Still I remain tied to the mast
Could it be that I have found my home at last
Home at last
— Steely Dan, “Home at Last.” Aja, W. Becker, D. Fagan. 1977.
Only hours ago, I returned to Los Angeles from my truncated Road Trip. I had to return early, due to some personal business in the next few days that requires my physical presence. My body and my car are only a little worse for the wear – all can be repaired – and my soul is a little better for the journey.
I saw some old friends from my days in the USAF and met with a number of online friends, some for the first time. But, mostly of course, I drove.
It wasn’t the first time I had made a long trip by car. CONUS movements during my military days were easiest done by car, in my opinion. But, of course, I was much younger and long-term sitting didn’t affect me like it does now. Even my ankles are saying unpleasant things to me.
Conversely, there is a lot more to do when driving in 2018 than in, say, 1982. Uninterrupted music, audiobooks, podcasts, just to name a few things, are all available to keep the lone driver alert.
The main thing I did, however, was talk to God. There’s something about the movement and the passing scenery – and the solitude — that makes a believing driver want to converse with his/her Maker. So, we got a lot of things said.
I plan to say more about the trip in various venues … while I soak my feet. Strange that my feet hurt and not my backside.
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