The desire to hit the road is universal. Jack Kerowak wrote about it in On the Road, and so did John Steinbeck in Travels with Charlie. Even before road trips were practical, the desire managed to manifest itself in other forms. Listen to Herman Melville describe this feeling in the beginning of Moby Dick:

Call me Ishmael. Some years ago—never mind how long precisely—having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people’s hats off—then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me.

Substitute “hit the road” for “get to sea” and you see the message here. Melville’s character was indeed ready to get out of Dodge and see the world. If Ishmael had a Tesla and a thousand miles of open road with supercharger access available, just imagine how literature might have been forever altered.

I find an extraordinary number of people who share this sentiment, to leave their everyday troubles in the dust and blaze onward toward new horizons. If I had fifty seats in the Tesla I still could not carry all who have expressed a desire to join me.

Hitting the road need not be a solitary exercise. Both you and your spouse or significant other can take to the highway together and enjoy a delightful escape.

The trouble is, you really do have to get out of Dodge, and sometimes that’s easier said than done. I originally planned to hoist anchor and set sail on this road trip in late May, but I’ve discovered  the hum drum world of my past doesn’t want to let go quite so easily. Whatever method you use, and fifty must surely be a low number, find your way to extricate yourself and feel the wind in your hair as you drive through the desert in first light.

Not ready to break free this year, though? No worries, we’ll make room for you through this blog to ride along. Please give Iceman a scratch behind the ears from time to time, though, he so likes it.