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Wanderlust Is An Essential Element of Adventure

Gold Hill, NC (03/17/2008) - My father was a wanderer, and he emulated his father. Grampa was the kind of guy that would drive his pickup truck hell bent for leather along any rural road or trail in order to reach the other end. His back road adventures scared my mother. I was only eight when he died, but I remember Mom would scowl at the old man as I clambered into the seat next to him, “BE CAREFUL, I want my boy back in one piece!” Gramps and I would both smile and wave as the grey Pontiac truck left the driveway. 

The next couple of hours were complete adventures for both of us. We would turn right and left onto gravel roads seemingly without reason – other than the road went somewhere nobody else went. If a bump lifted us from the seat or a quick dip in the road made our chins droop momentarily, so much the better. The thrill was always there, right ahead of us.

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