It’s Not My Fault


Sunrise, headed to Northern Maine this past weekend

Really, it’s not my fault. I blame my fascination of getting up crazy early squarely on the shoulders of my Dad. When I was a kid we’d pile into the car (or in later years, the van) in the wee hours of the morning  and head off somewhere on what I remember as grand adventures. For a 5 year old kid driving across multiple state lines was like an expedition to Everest, our car the sherpa carrying the load. I think those trips and the early morning starts left a mark on me that persists until this day.

Like the time we drove non stop from New Jersey to St Louis, all four of us packed into a Ford Pinto (luckily no one rear-ended that bomb on wheels). Or the countless trips to various places in New England in our VW van, or to the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Not to mention the ones I was too young to recall. Sure, I probably fussed a bit like any stupid kid, but in retrospect they are all great memories that stirred as I rolled out of bed at 3AM this past weekend and piled into my careworn escape pod (otherwise known as a VW Jetta Wagon) and headed off to face the dawn.

With the scent of fresh coffee rising from the mug and the inrush of dense, cool morning air through the slightly cracked window I drove onward. A symphonic, laconic drone of late summer insects over the cornfields all ears looming high over the shoulders of the road. It was road trip time again. Headed off on some grand adventure be it real or imagined, my reflection calmly watching over me in the windows of the world. The miles rolling and rising to meet my wheels.

More on my gravel grinding ride through the newly christened Katahdin Woods and Waters National Monument that took place at the end of this trip down memory lane when I get around to uploading some photos!

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