She wins.
I made it as far as Horseheads, NY. Everybody has icicles hanging from their car wheel wells. One guy had a foot of snow still on his trunk.
Fuck that.
April is the cruelest month, indeed.
I am turning tail and retreating back south until Spring uncoils.
When I was 17, I figured things would eventually fall into place and I would retire as a millionaire playboy by the time I was 35.
When I was 35 I had become wiser and realized that if I was to retire by the time I was 50, I would have to hit the lottery.
Now, math being what it is and all, at 50 my dreams have dwindled to the point that I have to hope to go blind so I can draw social security before the age of 70.
Nose to the grindstone and shoulder to the wheel have never been anything remotely resembling my motto. There is nothing wrong with hard work, you know, if viewed from a suitable distance, but the hard, cold truth is, the American Dream has changed and I am going to have to work until the day I die. But, not today.
I took a hiatus from the thing I hate about 6 months ago to do a thing I loved. I traveled the country on my faithful steed The EM-50 Phantom Rambler. And, I only returned when I did, because one member of this unlikely pairing became a bit long in the tooth, and the other wanted to return to the loving arms of his sweetheart, Trixie. I will let you figure out who was who.
A month has passed now as I sit, stirring only to reach between the cushions and retrieve the TV remote.
I have been mopey. A lingering sense of unfulfillment. It is not in my nature to leave a job unfinished – nose to the grindstone, shoulder to the wheel…that’s what I always say. Ok. No, I dont. But, in this case, maybe a little.
Recently, I was zoned out, staring at the television, wishing it was louder, but too comfortable to shift my weight to feel around for the clicker, when I said to my wife, with a heavy pout,
“Well, I guess I will go back to work until I die.”
She rolled her eyes so far back into her head I was worried they would get stuck and I would have to be the one to dislodge them. Then she said,
“Why don’t you finish the trip?”
I did my best Eeyore voice and replied,
“The Rambler’ll never make it.”
“Take your new car” She said.
I sat bolt upright and said brightly,
“The Scooty Puff Jr. class shuttle: Yukon Klondike Tydirium?…seriously? It’s too small. I’ll be like one of those Japanese businessmen. Wow…maybe…Hmm…do you think I could?”
“Well…” She said mockingly, “…If that is what you are calling your Jeep Renegade then…we may have to grease your hips to get you in there, after that you’re on your own. But yeah, that is what I meant.”
Suddenly, I was reinvigorated and enthusiastic. I made a mental note to get her back for that last crack, but, you know, she might be on to something here.
True to my nature, I have kept the planning and forethought to a minimum but, tomorrow I make my way up the eastern seaboard – destination: New England. If, and, haha, believe me…that is a big IF – The Scooty Puff Jr class shuttle: Yukon Klondike Tydirium turns out to be a viable travel option, I ramble on to Alaska.
Stay tuned.