Objects in Mirror…

"A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving." -- Lao Tzu

Right, so it’s time to put the trip to rest. True, I woke up this morning and suddenly found myself back in the van. But that was work, not traveling. While I was waiting for Rodney this morning in the cell phone lot at Dulles (hey, I hang out in airport cell phone lots…OK, there I admit it), I tried to tally up the miles. Based on our Google Maps directions, we traveled close to 3,500 miles. Of course, we missed the twine ball bit in Kansas (again, no remorse felt), but we added those miles on again when we got lost in Illinois, a seemingly impossible feat we accomplished with great ease. And while I tried to keep Lao Tzu’s words in my mind during the trip, I must admit that by the end, I was intent on arriving. And now even more intent on arriving back in Boston to see my lovely wife and daughter. Let me just say that the trip was great. Rod and I haven’t spent that much time together since college. It’s amazing when you can pick up again with friends like Rod, and it’s as if all the intervening years vanish. I want to thank him for the invite, and for seeing eye-to-eye on one important question. Both of us would choose Saul Tighe over Commander Riker as XO any day. So say we all.

It was also great to see Kent, Jenn and their wonderful family, and to really get a sense of Rodneyboy’s past in Kansas City. I’m doubly glad we got to make a stop, however brief, in Indiana to see my folks. Chicago looked great, Cleveland not so much. There was extreme, and warranted, disappontment at learning Fangboner has once again been passed over for induction into the rock-n-roll Hall of Fame. But that was offset by getting to see a close professional baseball game from a great, free seat right along the third base line (thanks to Jeff Waggett, who nearly joined us on this trip).

It was great to meet Matt, and to provide a “safe space” for his tango with a pole at the Bossa Nova night club in Pittsburgh. That’s a sentence you don’t get to type very often. Let me revel in that for a moment.  Aaahhhhh….

Mana’o, Rodney’s nephew, was a good sport, and put up with a lot of silly man-talk, both around him and at him. Two-a-day football practices will seem like child’s play in comparison.

I will avoid any grand sweeping statements about the meaning of this trip. This isn’t Hollywood, although the trip did start there. It was, in the end, just four dudes in a mini-van, driving 3,500 miles, accompanied only by an Australian accented GPS named Karen, and the sound of the bugs hitting the windshield.

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