The greatest distance between two places is through time. When I listen to music, occasionally a song will play that instantly transports me back to a specific moment in time, filling me with vivid memories of a moment I’ll never forget. When I play through these songs, I relive moments like they just happened.
Somewhere in the Middle
One moment, it’s a hot and humid day somewhere in the middle of a damp Missouri summer. I’m driving in my silver sports car, shifting gears, and blasting down a windy back road. Lush greenery towers overhead, filtering sunlight randomly down to my open windows. A modern day Jack Keruoac belts over the speakers in the small cockpit, drowning out wind noise with musings about wandering around, never really fitting in anywhere. I’m restless. As beautiful as this place is, I can’t help but peer around the next corner, wondering what’s waiting for me around the next bend. The call of the wild is too strong. I can’t stay in this town forever. My heart always wins on these matters, and besides, reverse is the slowest gear on this car. New plans have been swirling around in my head, tempting me with visions of unexplored places, people, and oppportunities. For now, I’m here, but I can’t help but feel like I’m already moving there. I’ve driven this car long enough to know that the best option is to hit the accelerator.
Sleep on the Floor
Now I’m hundreds of miles away from home, rocketing down a dusty deserted road in an old sedan with peeling gold paint and no air-conditioning. My buddy pushes the pedal past 80, onwards to 90, 95, and finally 100. The music is turned up to drown out the rush of air through the four open windows, our only respite from the desert sun. Adventure awaits far ahead in the mystical land of wine and long trails. Hell, we don’t even know where we’re sleeping tonight, and we’re in the middle of the biggest nowhere I’ve ever seen. The sun is setting, lighting the dirt in front of us on fire. We’ve been driving since dawn all day, same as yesterday. Electricity tingles through the dry air, lighting up our faces with wry smiles that say everything our voices can’t in this chorus of wind, music, and raw four-cylinder power. I don’t know it yet, but this adventure will forever change how I look at travel and the meaning of a vacation. Who knew you could grow so much from just walking and driving? Jack is asleep askew in the backseat. James dons a blanket to fight the sun. We live simply and discuss books and philosophy, high-minded ideals as we struggle to stay dry, unbitten, and fed. We eat slop, and joke about burgers. We say nothing for hours on end. We roll out our sleeping bags wherever we are when sleep hits us. My first night camping goes well, my second night is on a not-abandoned LA beach. We don’t have much, but we have plenty of gas to get us to where we’re going, and I realize what freedom means to me. There’s no rush to get anywhere, since everywhere has become our home.
Heat Waves
The dog days at the end of summer find me retreating towards the mountains for long hikes and cold beers. I hear that song again, the one that played at the bar every humid night we wandered out after dusk. We’re driving to a new campsite. I look over at my buddy, and realize that we will never get this summer back. How many more times will we have the chance to live so close to one another and surf the waves of summer together? Bandanas on, backpacks loaded down with 12oz cans, tank tops slung over shoulders. We drive out to the grassy forest and throw discs at metal poles, or each other. Sipping suds, smoking buds. We play one round, slow, then take off to find cold showers or colder beer. One beer turns into many as the air cools off. Go with the flow, and you friends float in on the breeze. We sweat more dancing inside the bar, but the music is louder. A new romance blossoms before my eyes. There’s no replacement for youthful energy, the drive to drink too much and sing too loud. We stumble around town, exploring a part that I never did in all the years I’ve lived here, opening up a new world of possibilities. We end up back at our house, surrounded by people who I know I like, but don’t fully know. This house tormented me for a while, but now it’s my salvation. For all of the ups and downs, I’ll keep riding this heat wave wherever it takes me.
I Ain’t Worried
I hang up the phone. My dad’s right, I can’t focus here. There is too much to do, too much to see, too many people to hangout with. I’m halfway around the world sitting in hot, sunny weather next to a pool. How am I supposed to get work done in this environment? I look next to the man sitting next to me, and he’s got a huge grin on his face. He checks his watch, it’s beer o’clock. Vinny walks up to the front desk and orders two Beerlaos and brings them back. How can I say no to that? Today’s going to be a good day, and tonight’s going to be a good night. We’ll end up at the bowling alley, I’m sure, just like we do most nights. I mean hell, the place has a basketball hoop, a ping-pong table, and a free-for-all archery range. It’s like they hand-selected all of my favorite games and put them in one place. It doesn’t hurt that Vinny and I discuss everything under the sun while sweating under the sun. Beerlaos go down so easily when shared with a friend. The same thing with Changs in Ao Nang, Peronis in Rome, or Goessers in Linz. No matter where I find myself, cold beer and interesting people seem to find me. Who cares about work. This beer is empty, looks like it’s my turn to buy.
Crossroad
(WIP)