You can't go home again.

“Perhaps this is our strange and haunting paradox here in America -- that we are fixed and certain only when we are in movement. At any rate, that is how it seemed to young George Webber, who was never so assured of his purpose as when he was going somewhere on a train. And he never had the sense of home so much as when he felt that he was going there. It was only when he got there that his homelessness began.” 
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Again

We were driving the back roads of Pennsylvania, I have a silly smile on my face as I push the rental car into the tight corners...Susan is beside, relaxed and at ease, she causally says "Your enjoying this."

"I love to drive." I tell her.

That's true.  I do love to drive and often when the world got to much for a much younger man it was not uncommon for me to jump in the car and take off down the back roads and end up 50, 75, 100 miles away...feeling refreshed and happy.

I always felt that the world began 50 miles from where ever I was at.  You get used to being in one place and the excitement, the bright lights are always elsewhere.  The city calls out to visit.  There is always one more dance hall, one more bar, one more pretty girl with dark seductive eyes.  In college I started to explore the world, and not always in the best ways.

When I lived in Charlotte, NC that experimentation continued by "touring with the Dead" for a bit.  Going here and there and spending wild nights listening to bands, meeting artists and comics and spending late nights with a bottle of wine discussing the world.

In the unusual heat of May (it was about 10 to 15 degrees warmer than it normally is in PA for this time of year), which seemed like a normal Florida spring day to us, I realized that this was no longer my home.  I also realized that I was no longer the young idiot I once was.   Not that I had spent my "adult" life wasting away in Margaritaville.  I managed to make a good living, got married twice and owned two homes.

Somehow in between all the adventures I had built myself a life.  Adulthood happened when I was not expecting it.  Not that all the experiments and experiences were successful, I still have nothing nice to say about Anna; my first wife, for example.  Still though, they made me who and what I am.  A good man.

So what brought on all this reminiscing?  My parent's 50th anniversary for one thing.  Seeing old friends that have lived some dreams.  I could not help but wonder what happened to the young man that tried to live his life to a Rush song.

I'm not giving in to security under pressure
I'm not missing out on the promise of adventure
I'm not giving up on implausible dreams
Experience to extremes...Experience to extremes...

I grew up.

So I wait on my Kimmie to be fixed.  It could be finally repaired today, maybe tomorrow.  Just in time for me to ride during the heat of the day and be caught out in thunderstorms at night.  Just in time for me to consider finally giving up on my self employment, which is starting to lose money for me.

I know that Kimmie and I are going to have some further adventures.  There is much to explore in my backyard.  Places to see, to go, people to meet.

Maybe that will help get me out of this funk.