i wrote the following as a comment to a post here:
i recently came back from a trip to nowhere, and everywhere. 6,000 miles. me and my lovely new bride in a 1954 ford coupe. i didn’t have to sell my (yukon) saab to get it. and i didn’t have to run away to make it happen. well, i did, a little bit. but i planned the 3 week runaway for more than a year. i can’t imagine doing that trip in anything else. there’s a certain smack it gives to your lips to pilot a machine older than you across america. there’s a certain ‘rightness’ about seeing a country so steeped in history and hard work and ingenuity in a car such as this. the view out the windshield changes the feel of the movie enough to make it epic rather than simply long. there’s a certain satisfaction to knowing you can fix it if it breaks. and a certain pleasantness to the afternoon that it does leave you by the side of the road with your trunk unpacked, tools out, forcing you to prove it. and a certain peacefulness to changing the oil in the yard of a friend’s small farm in kansas. i’ve been back just a little longer than i was gone, and i already feel late for that same destination. everywhere, but nowhere in particular.