Back in 2000, when I told my folks that my wife had left me, one of the first things out of my mom’s mouth was “Are you leaving town?” I suppose it’s a normal reaction when things fall apart that badly, that a person would just want to get away, but I still think it was an amazing question from an amazing lady. I really don’t need that much encouragement to go on the road; I can look out the back window of the store, at the interstate hitting the horizon just a couple miles away, and immediately want to head out to my car and drive across the state. Back in ’03 I drove to Nashville to see the Grand Ole Opry, because I’d never been there, and Georgia, to see my favorite country girl singer, Patty Loveless, and was going to go to the Smoky Mountains, because I’d never been there, and go to bars in downtown Nashville and see local bands and fall in love with some gal, but my car more or less blew up in Nashville, so I had to rent a car, cut short the trip, then limp my car back home. I bought a new one, got introduced to a woman a month later, got her pregnant and the rest is history. In fact it’s a whole other unique story that I’ll give you the full details of later. You don’t have to be wildly in love to produce a baby, but sometimes it helps to be in the same room for a while (I’ll be sure to leave out those details). I still haven’t lost that desire to hit the road, and am tireder than ever of this town, of cold winters, of bland scenery, of a host of other things. When it comes down to it, 70 pounds of pure silliness is all that keeps me here. I’m very thankful for that and for her, and I could imagine a lot of bad things happening to the world, to me, or to anyone I know, but I couldn’t imagine a world where she never had come into it.
But I still want to leave town, so I go on day trips, or weekend trips, and spend too much money to not satisfy the itch, to just take the edge off my wanderlust a little. Maybe someday I’ll head East again, maybe Chesapeake Bay.