While looking through pictures of last summer’s road trip, this picture caught my attention. It was hot, there was no air conditioning, and I was drenched in sweat. Keeping the windows open didn’t help anything because the air was scorching, but despite the sting of sweat, it was a time that will never be forgotten in my mind.
Somewhere in Oregon, where this picture was taken, some other life was going on. I was just a reflection in a window, with the lives of others going by un-noticed. As an outsider, the subtle movements of the inhabitants seemed to merely reflect my own simple life. The drama, pride, and everything else included with our social binding instincts, seems to keep the entire world traped within the same boundaries.
While other lives push on in their own direction, my 92 Ford Ranger pulled me through to the salty scent of the California coast. After making it down to Santa Cruz and spending a day on the beach, the truck didn’t sound right. It seemed a bit heat drained, while it worked hard to maintain its endurance. I was a bit in fear, not knowing if it would make it home 3000kms away, but I pushed it all the way, and she made it.
The memories of my adventure through the west coast of the USA continue to hit me vividly, each picture bringing back a different moment of scenic parade. If I could be anywhere right now, it would be on the bench seat of my Ford Ranger, riding the highways into the unknown, and making plans as they come.
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