The Lure of the Open Road

"Standing on a corner in Winslow, Arizona, such a fine sight to see!"
we sing/scream over the roar of the desert wind blowing through the open windows. Sweat is pouring off of us as we tap our feet and sing into fake microphones. We've just passed the exit for Winslow, AZ, and we are on corny trip song number 51. But we're on the open road, headed towards adventure, the daily grind of routine behind us, endless possibility and the beauty of the desert in front of us.

Memories of our first trip out west in the summer of 2004 replayed constantly once we returned home, creating a vague discontent in the background of our busy schedules. That fall I finished up my degrees in English and education, and Ted started his fifth year at the hospital as well as his third semester of nurse practioner school. In January, I was offered a position at an area high school teaching sophomore and senior English, while Ted continued working and going to school. Occassionally we talked about our feelings of restlessness, and the vague notion that we were not meant to settle down just yet. The thought of children, a house, a mortgage, and a forty year career was daunting. Over and over again, we asked each other what we wanted out of life. And the answer always seemed to be: travel. Settling down bothered us, though we did not know why.
Then in the spring, Ted read Into the Wild by John Krakauer, and we watched Motorcycle Diaries for the fifteenth time. Both the movie and the book focus on wandering adventurers, who give up the comforts of family and society in order to make sense of the world and their place in it. We felt the same pull between the security of family and the lure of the open road.

After I had trouble finding an open teaching position in Johnson City, and Ted decided he was burnt out on Nurse Practicioner school, we decided that the time was ripe to try something different. So Ted called a travel company, and within two months we were on the open road headed to California - America's utopia. We packed up the Element, rented a U-Haul, drugged the cats, and made the giant leap of faith that all cross country moves require, especially in the middle of a gas crisis.

Now that we're here, we appreciate the home that we left even more, we miss our families, and we miss our routine. We still wonder what our purpose is in the grand scheme of things and we're still searching for the meaning of life. But now we have a few adventures under our belt, and we have discovered that we both have talents and desires that were masked by our busy schedule at home. Ted has had more time to explore photography, and I have had ample time to think of new ways to address the injustices I see in the world and to write. Hiking and camping occupy a great deal of our free time, as does exploring the nearby city of San Francisco. But those are stories for another post.

Our most surprising observation to date is how quickly one can adapt to a new environment and feel at home. We've been here less than three months and already feel as though we've lived here for years. As travel writer Bill Bryson wrote, it is possible to explore new territory even in the place you have lived all your life. And, as the thru hikers of the American Disocvery Trail commented, it is possible to develop a routine even in the most adverse and trying conditions. Humans have an infinite capacity to adapt, accompanied by a desire to know more and explore more. Which means that we are rarely ever content. Perhaps, then, one of the secrets of happiness is to create adventure in the everyday, and to cultivate contentment through pursuing your true passions, no matter where you might live or travel. One of our recent thoughts is that the increasingly busy schedule of the average American is just a diversion to stop us from really pursuing spiritually or emotionally better lives that have nothing to do with consumption or careers. Our jobs, club memberships, and appointments often kept us from really reflecting on our lives and deciding how we could change our habits to benefit others. Thankfully, we are now able to take time to reflect and time to explore. But I think it's important to remember that the open road, though fascinating and wonderful, can still turn into another diversion, and even a routine. We hope to use this time to better ourselves and others.

But enough philosophizing for this post. Look for the next post about our time in Santa Fe, which promises more pictures and less philosophy!
By: Rebecca