Feeling like a hobo, singing to myself, and hiking on down the tracks. Thinking of a world much different than today’s world, where men carved their way through the wilderness and built a country, when human ingenuity was unlimited. Walking through a time warp to a different day, when travel was on the rails and not in individual cars, and men and women still conducted themselves as such.
|I'm on my way.|
The leaves are changing color, a symbol of dying. Is that a sign? Have the rails died? Are real adventure and the American experience gone for good? Is adventure now neatly packaged into ridiculously unbelievable movies that give people false beliefs while oozing propaganda into their frontal lobes? Anyway, I hope not. Did you ever get that feeling that you want to hop on the caboose and find some real American adventure? I sure do. Don’t forget: The leaves will be green again come spring, so if they’re a sign, it’s a good sign.
Adventure is perennial. It keeps coming back. You just can’t stop the American Dream.