Points West

3 Aug


In Monroe, Louisiana with my son, after driving three days west. There’s a lot of pressure. I had to make the move, but I’m terribly under-funded. I have no choice – it’s really now or never.

It was a good feeling Saturday at noon, pulling out of the drive, with Shaggy’s Boombastic blasting on the portable CD player (I didn’t have the spare cash to fix the RAV 4’s sound system), driving 10 miles out of my way so I could make the turn west on Route 80 – the opposite of the killer commute I took for so many years; laughing at myself as I made the turn, because I was simultaneously telling Devon, “Use this plastic bag for trash.” An imagined transcendent moment brought down by me to mundanity.

Ann is completely worried and I don’t blame her. There are no guarantees. I told her, “I don’t want to be in my sixties, wondering what I could have accomplished if I wasn’t so timid.” She said a nice thing: “Of all the words I could use to describe you, timid would never come to mind.”

Anyway, Devon and I are bombing down the interstates. We have a real flow going on; busting balls and not once losing our tempers or acting petty.

On through Texas tomorrow.



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