Just Passin' Through

Just Passin' Through

Got an email from an old friend recently. He wanted to talk a bit about this and that, to respond with his views about a few things that I'd been doing and to also tell me that he would be back in our hometown about the beginning of the second week of next month. Now that was some wonderful news! I only got reacquainted with this guy two years ago after a very long absence and am tickled he's going to be back in town for a while. Unfortunately I know that he's not staying long. Couple of weeks, probably. Maybe three.

The truth is that he's just passin' through. From where and to where you might ask? That's the interesting part about him and his wife.

Some background...

First off, he and his wife are retired. That allows them time to do things. And the things that he and his wife like to do most of is travel. They've purchased a humungous (at least to my eyes) humdinger of a motor coach and they travel.

They travel a lot.

They hunker down in one of the warm southwestern states in the wintertime, though. They've a home in the desert down there. But, when the weather warms up they start their annual trek.

Where do they normally go, you might ask?

Well, apparently just about everywhere.

I used to think that I was a half-way well-traveled man. Sorta-kinda. At least in the good ol' U.S.A. I make sure I go on vacation every summer and not always to the same place. I've been to quite a few locations, both as a single man and a married one.

Quite a few places.

Or so I've thought.

But to be brutally honest, I'm a baby, a veritable neophyte, a wet-behind-the-ears tyro in the travel game compared to these two. They are travel monsters! They have two destinations they try to achieve each year, everywhere and almost everywhere. They've consistently attained the latter and are always shooting for the former.

They travel the warm months of the year by motor-home, generally dividing the United States into a couple zones and spending their time moseying around in one or another of them. I guess they might have a strict itinerary, but I'd be a little surprised if they did.

I think the true destination for their yearly travels is probably this: lets stay south a bit this year then head through our old home state. After that, lets see which way the wind blows and follow that for a while.

Or: “I've got a hankering for a Nathan's hot dog. Let's go to Coney Island.”

Or: “I heard that Dean Martin was from Steubenville, Ohio. Let's check it out.”

Or: “I want to see: Little Big Horn, the Grand Canyon, Appomattox Court House, Ground Zero in New York, Stephen King's house in Bangor, the charter boat fleet coming in at Key West, Graceland, the top of Gateway Arch in St. Louis, Half-Dome at Yosemite, a pow-wow in Oklahoma, John Wayne's footprints at Grauman's in Hollywood.”

Or: “I want to spend a month on the beach in South Carolina/Florida/Texas/Alabama.”

Or: “I heard a rumor about the best ribs in the U.S. How they can't decide between ten different places. Let's go find out where they're at, go there and eat at all of them.”

I may have that wrong. They may have more specific itineraries with places to be and times to be there. Maybe. My best guess is that they may have a place or two in mind and a general idea of when they'd like to be there, but they're totally able to change that at a moment's notice.

Their mail address? General delivery, Anywhere, U.S.A.

It's a fascinating lifestyle to contemplate. Oddly enough, it reminds me of an old Western movie or horse opera on TV. The stranger comes into town, goes to the bar, downs a shot or two of “whiskey, neat” and stares at the mirror behind the bar. Someone asks the stranger how long he'll be in town. He answers, “A while.” Then they ask where he's from. He says, “Over yonder.” How long he's been traveling? “A spell.” Where he's going next? “Up the road a piece.” The stranger's a bit road-bedraggled, dusty, thirsty for a bit of red-eye and has a piercing glance that sets all the damsel's hearts a-flutter. Then, after some obligatory gun-play he rides off into the sunset.

Where? No one knows.

And there may be a silver bullet involved. Maybe.

Of course that's not at all the way my friend and his wife look. Not at all.

But if I was to make a logo for that couple it'd look like that stranger. Or maybe just a simple tumbleweed blowing in the wind.

Silly ideas, eh?

Knowing that these wandering friends of mine are setting sail for my neck of the woods and will be here soon has started my mind a-racing. They've been retired for some years now and I am looking at retirement in a year-and-a-half. I try to picture myself living the life they live, traveling, meeting new folks, seeing new sights, being king and queen of the road (thank you Roger Miller).

For week after week, month after month. On the road. A day here, a week there, a month up the road. In the rain and in the sunshine, in the light and in the darkness. Always up the road, always somewhere else to go, somewhere else to see.

And I wonder...

And I try to envision myself in that picture. My wife and I. Road warriors.

And can't.

Now don't get me wrong. I don't want to cast any aspersions to my friend and his wife. They've found an ideal lifestyle for themselves and I'm totally happy for them. Totally! In fact I even envy them insofar as they've decided on a path in life and are following it quite happily.

It's working for them and I surely do wish them well.

But I believe the future that calls more to my wife and I is that of the hearth and home. To venture out from time to time, yes, but to return in due course to the local newspaper, the favorite easy chair, the dog sitting at your feet, the comfort of your own bed and the familiarity of your own four walls.

Besides, where would our gallivanting amigos and amigas have as a destination if we weren't here holding down the fort where we all started?

As Tom Bodet was fond of saying and as I'll repeat for all my wandering friends, “We'll leave the light on for ya.”