1. The Distant Music of Revving Engines

My home is the road.

Usually I begin to catch the scent of an upcoming road trip, a month or two up the line. At some point, sitting in my office, I am distracted by the distant music of revving engines.

My traveling journals began in 1982 with a trip to Toronto from my home in California. I have four books scribbled with handwriting I used to think only I could read. The entries mostly concern being somewhere else than here. Now I am a blogger, of sorts anyhow. So I'll share the journal and share the journey.

The road trip is still seven weeks away. The details aren't figured out yet. I don't know the route. The destination is familar, though. I found myself there in 1990, 1999, and 2000, a few days each time. You'll find it midway between a giant wooden lumberjack and a giant fiberglass walleye. It is a peaceful place called Bay Lake, and it is as much like home as any other place I've been.

My mind keeps getting ahead of my body. My body will spend the next seven weeks trapped in Tucson. My mind will wander through all the alternative routes that lead from Arizona to Minnesota, roads familiar and strange.