I travel, so I can pay my mortgage. The irony is not lost here. As a travel writer, I frequently tempt the god of the gas gauge light in search of incredible destinations. But only a fraction of my experiences ever make it to the printed page.
For example, I recently met a waitress named Brie at a Cracker Barrel outside of Clemmons, NC. She tried to sell me on the macaroni and cheese. And while driving through Joplin, MO, on Route 66, I found myself pondering our rocky economy's affect on the price of mud.
Trips are full of surprises. And they are usually found at the edge of the road. This is a forum for moments such as these. Captured vignettes. Conversations overheard. I assure you, though, that this trail will have spurs. Midnight thoughts. Quick questions.
At the end of the day, it’s always about the story. This is how I roll.
2 comments:
Could you also pay my mortgage, you know, since you're already out there?
that's how you roll? hmmm... where' did you pick that one up?
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