I’ve been off the side of the road for a long time now. No more hell rides through mysterious countrysides, no more insinuation into the improbable, and certainly no more sleeping in damp woods till daybreak.
OK, I admit to missing some of the disepitomable bistros that figured large in my days on the road. Breakfast was almost always good, but lunch and dinner could be strange meatloaf or Salisbury Steak.
The conversation could be interesting. Who was president, funny money for change, and interesting linguistic variations always showed up. But, no, I’m not talking about Mexico or Canada. Frolicking detours off the map could occur deep in the heart of New York or Massachusetts. Indeed, I left my heart in several unforgettable and unrelocatable parts unknown. So, yeah, I know what you’re thinking, but no, I wasn’t on anything. I was just road tripping.
If I was to make a travel bucket list: road trip, it might include some of those locales – to see what’s been happening.
But only at breakfast time.