I’ve gone feral. It turns out all sorts of domesticated animals can become feral again, maybe humans too.
I’m now past the half-way point for this trip and the meticulous grooming is abandoned. I show up at restaurants looking so disheveled I wonder if I might be denied service at some point.
On the days that require a lot of physical labor (setting up, driving, breaking down) or the solitude becomes loneliness, I wonder why I do this. It may be a futile question, I still have little idea why I do most of what I do.
Maybe it’s a cancer victory lap, although that seems a bit premature. Both of my long road trips came on the heels of fending off a diagnosis. The perfect punctuation to the news no one wants to hear. An equal and opposite reaction.