The only thing currently saving our retinas are the distant snowcapped mountain range running intercept as we journey towards the blazing rays of the setting sun. The sage scented wind is whipping through Miss Ellie’s open windows, causing Charlie’s silky ears to flop and pop like bullwhips in the breeze. Three weeks on the road have left dad considerably more scruffy but infinitely more relaxed as, with one foot on the dash and the other on the accelerator. He keeps us moving forward across the countryside like a quartet of modern day Johnny Appleseeds, but instead of sowing seeds in the soil, Charlie’s continuing her mission of planting ideas and encouragement on the internet.
How did we get to the point financially that we can now follow the dusty track of those pioneers that have blazed the trail before us? Was it book sales? Corporate sponsorship? Or did dad sell on eBay one of every fleshly organ that he has two of? Hey, I’m a dog, and the procurement of filthy lucre means nothing to me; what does matter is that it has been successful to the point that I now have dad all to myself as we meander around the country.
Well, there’s also Charlie, that hairy black fly in the ointment sprawled out in the back of the Subaru, but thankfully she’s snoozing, pooped from today’s adventures, so here we are.
Dad had the chance to score a newer, more efficient vehicle for our trekking but chose to instead stick with the star of the MTV era, Miss Ellie, as our own Roscinonte; so now we go rumbling across the landscape at a considerably more relaxed pace. Mom’s initial apprehension about the roadworthiness of the old girl has been replaced by a genuine appreciation of her unique charms(Ellie’s, not mom’s; well, actually both of them, I guess), and she now occasionaly joins us for protracted sections of the open road.
But mainly it’s just us, meandering, talking, writing, connecting, the rythym of the road acting as a drug that doesn’t dull the senses but instead snaps everything into vivid focus; the sting of the north wind, the vague scent of a roadkill skunk thankfully somewhere off in the distance, the smell of chile rellenos roasting in the baskets, the taste of creek water so frigid it makes your front teeth throb, the sight of the sun cresting the…
BZZ!BZZ!BZZ!(fumbling pause) BZZ!BZZ!BZZ!
are you kidding me? Time to get up already? I must be at the Casa, as I poke me head from beneath the covers to find that Charlie has dad pushed to the edge of the bed as usual, leaving mom unmolested on her own private acreage far to the east. So this was just a crazy dream?
Or was it a vision of how it could be, a peek at the possibilities, if you will?
We always dream big at the Casa del Whackos;
Max out.
Up early here on the left coast. What a lovely way to start the day. Your dream had me cruising right down the open road with you, Max.
I felt like I was cruising with you… such a beautiful idea!
Roadtrip!
Dreams come true, and a road trip soothes the wander’s soul!
I love your writting. The imagery is wonderful. From one writter to another, well done my friend!
Ya gotta dream big Max… And don’t stop.
That is one great dream!!!
Yes, love it. Another great start to the day.
Max you must have hide the iPad and waited patiently for all to fall asleep to finally get your story written!
Love the dream and thanks for sharing. We must NEVER stop dreaming…it’s what keeps us going. We all need goals. Here’s to hoping all your dreams come true. I’m sure Charlie was dreaming such a dream when you rescued her and look what happened !
You stinker !!! Had me going there and my brain was banging around my skull going ” do what ?” GOOD ONE
I have this same dream from time to time! One of these days, Max, it’s going to happen, but I’ll have my Rusty-boy with me, his tongue hanging out and drool running down the inside and outside of the car!
Awesome writing, Max! (Better be careful at the Casa, folks…Max sounds like he has wanderlust. He may pull the four corners of his favorite blankie up around his dog bowl, tie it around the end of his favorite stick, poke that into the back of his collar, and trot off into the sunset… until he disappears into the dust haze of a long winding road.)
Too funny!!!!!!
“Flop and pop!” Good one, Max! I can picture everything in my head….you’re a great co-writer!
Great writing Max! I actually heard that alarm sound as I read.