I am counting the days.
In less than two months, I will be leaving behind thirty years of a life that has been good, but much too small.
I have virtually every vestige of my old life on Craigslist (liberating as hell, that). I've come to realize the weight of every piece of furniture, every coffee cup, every knicknack. All at once I felt the crush of every "maybe I'll need that", every "this reminds me of". Everything must go! A clearance sale for everything from my silverware to my Subaru; my napkins to my Nissan. Liquidation equals Liberation.
Half of my new life is laid out on a lovely, round solid wood table with folding leaves (50 bucks and it's yours, kid). REI Passage 2 tent, Koppen Viggo-20 sleeping bag, Thermarest bedroll, Cortech tailbag and Tourmaster tankbag, various survival gear, compression bags, cargo nets and bungee cords. Everything I need to survive The Road. The other half of my new life is spending the winter dreaming in a warm basement.
If you had told the 5-year-old me (or even the 15-year-old me) that he would one day own a motorcycle, you might as well have told him that he would grow up to be a Ninja Turtle. If you had told him he would live on the open road and chase the horizon across the country on a Ducati with no attachment... well, he probably wouldn't appreciate it. Not at 5-years-old, but let me tell you, to 30-year-old me that sounds like heaven. Cowabunga, dudes.
I have been fortunate in life. I have loved deeply. I have achieved. I have obtained. I have both provided and received support from others. As thankful as I am for what I have seen so far, I know every inch of my little world. I know it too well.
I am counting the days.
