Woolgathering // flux capacitor, open road.


      You probably have gathered by now that we love old things. Books, records, furniture, cars, clothes; all of it, give it to us. If it was not for the T.V, I fear our living room could be mistaken for some sort of time capsule, or an untouched shrine for some slightly off collector long since gone. But in a good way, ya know. However, for all of our (many) old things, I would have to say that my favorite by far are some that you don't often notice. They are the pictures, mostly of our respective families, some of people we never knew. There is something about old photos that has always drawn me in. Especially ones of vacations.

      To be more precise, I am talking road trips. 50's and 60's to be exact. The age of travel. There is something about that time that I have always longed to experience. The idea that you could get into a car and just drive. That there were so many things out there that you did not know existed. It was still an adventure to travel. No GPS or internet maps. No video games or dvds. Just a pile of brochures and a worn out atlas. The trip itself was interesting enough to keep your attention. The idea that you did not know what was coming next. To be surprised by somewhere you had never been. I am drawn to those things because I am afraid they are all but gone from our lives today. I am afraid that the idea of everyday adventure is disappearing for our children.

      "You want to talk about a road trip kids, sure! How about we hop online and create a map and an itinerary. How about we do a virtual tour of all the places we will stop along the way. What is the fastest route to get there? We don't want to waste all our time driving now do we?"

      Bah! Bury me in a sea of rest stop fold outs. Wax museums and truck stops. Give me "the worlds biggest rocking chair". Give me Dollywood. Take me to Branson. Take me to Wall Drug. 
 Because when we get to the Grand Canyon or Mt. Rushmore I want to see their faces. I want to hear them whispering and giggling about all the goofy shit they did along the way. I want them to tell stories about getting lost and what they found when they did. 

      
      My grandfather's Buick. Middle of nowhere. Headed somewhere.
This is where I have been.




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thirty-four.

best days.