Sometimes, after you’ve made kind of a critical life decision, there are days like this. It almost makes you regret making certain decisions. You go, “why did I come here? Why did I come here? Did I make the right choice? Why?”
Writing is hard…you look down at what should be flowing and clear and find a train wreck of wordy, indecisive nihility. It’s excessive and lacking. It’s not what you meant to say and now you’re unsure about what your point was in the first place. It’s not right and you don’t know what to do. This isn’t what you mean at all.
”oh look, more doggies. Oh look how they run and play together. Towards me. With teeth. What are they doing? OH HECK. WHAT ARE THEY DOING? Where are the Paraguayans?”
Gratitude helped me on my tiny adventure and at the end of it I had a few cakes, cookies, and lots of happy.
The all-American, coming-of-age, preferred method of travel…those who embark on these journeys and don’t wish to end them at the wrath of the Green Destiny, need only follow a simple code of road trip etiquette.