Steering Columns of Smoke

The forces that be (physical, mechanical, other) slowed us down in Saratoga almost bringing us to a halt. Our steering column is broken compliments of Slothworld (Speedworld), compliments of my father suggesting I use their expertise for installing a CB radio. The true compliment should be paid to me. This is the result when your mind is awash with crap and you don’t trust yourself in explicit matters.

Not being able to find my passport moments before our departure, not doing research on how or where to install a CB radio, not breathing, not laughing… These are all the signs that it was high time to reboot.

For all the worrying (which is not my style), I wing it quite a bit (which is).My focus is untrained again. My focus needs precision. There are, there were too many distractions, now there are no excuses.

There really is no excuse to worry, to eat too fast, to dream too fast, to drive too fast. We made a promise to see anything and everything in our way, to talk to people, to stop and think, to have fun. This is what I dream as the rain beats down on our rooftop home for the first time on this trip. Everything is fine, Everything is just fine!

The dream: I awake and look through the skylight of the rooftop tent. When did that feature get installed I wonder? Above us is a wall face (steep rock-side of a mountain) suspended by parachute cord coming of a crane. A young climber is silently making his ascent. At first I think he is free climbing but then I notice him latch on with a safety harness.

The rock-face dangles and spins like a Christmas ornament in the wind. Any second now. I await the rock-face, as well as the climber’s, collapse knowing that it will inevitably kill all three of us (Him, LuLu and myself). Paralyzed by the bat scat spectacle I keep watching. I don’t wake Lulu. I look at her and she is sleeping soundly. How nice I think, to be oblivious to this apparent danger. I desire the same and take to her strategy. I go back to sleep.

The second time I wake up, I see a glorious tapestry covering the length of the entire sky. It is constructed from orange and black parachute material., I watch it flap in the wind, for what seems as a while. My mind supposes that this gigantic art project is the work of the single rock climber. I accept it as a fact. By the time the next chapter of the dream unfolds it is no longer important.