Romance of the road

The romance of the road, lonliness, longing drinking. Scotch from a plastic cup in a hotel near an airport. Everything is temporary here, just enough to get by, everything is disposable, even friends. The open road the love hate relationship with a spiteful mistress. One moment she’s alluring with the promise of new sensation, the next emptiness sets in. Nothing lasts, everything is a cheap thrill. But it’s enough to live for, enough to make a person get up each morning and look toward the sunset with hope, enough to get one through the day, and another day always looking for the next thrill. The end of the road is not even a thought. It’s not the destination thats the goal it’s the journey, the experience. Life lived with zeal and vigor amassing wealth in knowledge gained not through books, but by doing, by living. The goal of every true traveller is to travel. Not to arrive.