Day the third, plus more of yesterday

 

Morning of the third day, I feel like I'm starting to enjoy the trip more. The drive I'd taken before yielded more immediate satisfaction, so I became worried I wasn't enjoying the trip at all. The first night wasn't a great sleep, either I had more space on my last trip (I now have a full sized guitar and hiking bag included) or I've grown, or both. I woke up early and pretty much started driving. It rained a little but nothing like yesterday. I'm now taking full advantage of cruise control (thanks Nick! Parents, you have failed me for the last time) so my ankle isn't so messed up. But damn, do I miss walking. I stop occassionally mind you, to eat or rest or play guitar somewhere random but theres not been somewhere interesting to walk yet. The french drive like maniacs, where 120 kmph is best suited for  the slow lane. But it still feels like a good speed. I pass a lot of people and am passed by a lot of people. If you get bored you drive, because the weather has been kinda crappy for stopping anywhere too long thus far anyways. I listened to music for awhile, but for later hours drove with it off, even sang a few of my own songs. I know I miss much new scenery by driving at night, but the scene is intoxicating. Trees are silhouteed against the sky which holds sparse clouds which hold the moon, ahead of me is the highway and my headlights, leading down a path I've never been. It feels like a dark corridor that I'm travelling alone and seldom pass another vehicle, and when I wake up in the morning I'm somewhere I've never seen before. After driving for hours I get off the highway outside of any town. On the off ramp, all signs insist I turn right to have a good sleep, buy coffee or fill up on gas but I turn left. The signs seem confused, they think I came this way by accident and urge me that good sleep is in the opposite direction. I pull down a road that's to have a dead end, passing one house after driving down it for a couple minutes and I spin around and park on the side. I want to write my passion for such moments while fresh, or play guitar, or read, but I want even more to feel sleep's embrace. I arrange my luggage in a new way that allows a small amount more of comfort, but it proves to be far more than I need to fall asleep. The silhouettes are still outside, and moonlight is falling into my vehicle and laying all about me, and a gentle wind blows. I submit to sleep.

 

Morning arrives, I feel much better than yesterday morning, I'm somewhere I've never seen before. I check my oil and ready up for a full day of places I've never seen.

   Today proves to be close to the others, driving obviously holds its place but I manage a good walk down a beach, and for a time I consider camping there and having a fire. But it's far too early in the day as much as the night promises a calm breeze and sea air so I head back to the highway after relaxing for a time.

 

I called my parents and am reminded I should consider a hotel this time around the bush. I remember Scott telling me to give myself that luxury and I also remember how I don't have a much farther distance to push to reach Sydney. I less than reluctantly pull into a days inn after shopping and eating. It's late in the afternoon on my third day out and I finally have a shower, first sitting in hot water for a time and finishing by switching it to cold before getting out (try it if you haven't). People have been nice today, no one too pushy on the highway and a couple honks and waves while I was at the waterfront. I dress up in my nicest freshest clothes and hang in the hotel restaurant bar for awhile. I feel a little odd about the spending of my money, I stand as a mostly frugal person but have held nothing back on this trip. I spend on gas and other realistic expenses without feeling any remorse, just as I felt nothing putting the money away and withdrawing none. Dairy queen for breakfeast, less realistic but why fight what feels like what I want to do while on this trip? Each dip into my account degrades my worth as a human being in the eyes of man and unsurprisingly I still feel no remorse.

 I manage a couple conversations with bartenders and a drinker waiting on his girlfriend waitress while having a few beers. The guy waiter appears to be late twenties or early thirties, took a bartending course and ended up here. A female waitress who seems beyond comfortable in her element comes to that shes thirty five with kids, it's a summer job and she's going to school and has been a waitress since sixteen. The equipment and organization is all wrong but they both migrated from a casino together and stand as hard workers regardless, and its clear to me that were it their choice they wouldn't be here. Makes me feel selfish that I'm trying to find a stable answer to which path to take, while they make the best of where life has sent them already. I give them a twenty to split knowing it will mean more to them than to me as I finish my fourth drink and return to my room. I'm humbled by the people they manage to be under their circumstances, instead of watered down thoughts I get more philosophical as I drink, but I wonder which is worse. I don't expect an answer at the end of the trip to any of my constant and lingering questions of life, but I know where I am, and what I am doing, and who I am right now, feels right.

 
 Tomorrow I either ride the ferry or book it, some time or another I'll arrive, and the time to test my mettle will have arrived. The future for me may never contain any answers, but I know this is right.