About Navigation and Probable Fake Poet Names
I don’t drive a whole lot, which is just one in a litany of contradictory and weird things about me. I love to drive, and I love cars. It just seems I always end up living within spitting distance of dang near everything I need.
Good news though. I went and drove out to the country yesterday. It was cool. You know: just me, my overpriced supercharged engine, and the relentless droning of a navigation system. Nothing like having those jams interrupted every twelve seconds by a robot reminding you that you are too stupid to read a map and commit it to memory. I truly hate those things. I used to brag that they were for dolts, but I’m realizing I wasn’t being entirely fair.
Here’s the thing. I never needed navigation because I lived in the same place my whole frigging life. And the state of Texas is a giant grid inside another grid ad infinitum. Plenty of space for city planning and all that.
Now Texas is in the rearview, and I’m finding it hard to figure out how to get around. So I’m just another guy, not enjoying his music.
It’s easy to stay in one place where everything’s familiar and you can get a grip on life. It might even be ideal. On the other hand, every new street road or city is a learning experience. It’s all right there. No real destination for the blog today. It’s just funny how sometimes I think that learning means burying my head in a book. Sure, it’s one way to go—only thing is, I have to constantly remind myself of those other roads.
Robert Frost has a poem about the dude taking the road less traveled. I think it’s a great poem. And the dude was a winner either way. First, he was on a road. Second, he could choose between adventure or a total cruise job all the way home. Win-win. I’m sure I’m trudging through the very obvious point he was making, but who cares. Sorry Robert Frost. If that’s even your real name…
See you after.