If I could . . .

If I could, I would essentially be a hobo.

Let’s rule out money. Let’s say it doesn’t exist (but I can’t fathom any possibility where there isn’t some system of valuation that drives supply and demand and ultimately greed).

In that scenario, my job would be to travel the country. I like the idea of traveling by train and being a passive bystander. But let’s be real: I need the control. I need to be the one behind the wheel or at least the one with the ultimate say.

I want to see everything.

I want to be able to stop to point out some tiny detail, even if to myself.

I want to perfect the art of the roadtrip.

I want to be a part of America.

I want that open road! That sense of freedom and feeling of being one with the dying frontier. That sense of accomplishment.

I want to take my tour book, outlining the must-sees of America, and drive to every single one of them.

I need to spend years filling in the gaps of what I haven’t seen.

I never want to satisfy this restlessness.

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