Where my nose ends and space begins.

Humans have been doing the road trip for a long time. A lot of American History can be described as a search. A search for the intangible which becomes a search for a place where we think this intangible exists, or can be made by our own hands. So we sail across the ocean in search of freedom from tyranny, we cross the plains in a wagon in search for our "destiny," across the continent on a train in search of progress, and to the stars in search of man's ultimate crown.

When I planned this trip, packed the Subie and set off for Death Valley, I didn't think I was in search of anything at all. But now I think, in the middle of America, I might be searching for something. Perhaps being on the road has stripped away preoccupations and distractions that were preventing this realization, or perhaps the nature of the road trip created the search in me.

I try to live with as few regrets as possible. Not that I am the skydiving, bull-running, Killamanjaro-climbing type, but that I have enough in my past to haunt me for more than a lifetime. One regret that I don't mind confessing is that I didn't do this until I had turned 30. I regret that at 18 I wasn't at a place in my life to pack a car and just drive places I hadn't been and stay there until I was ready to move on. I regret not drinking milkshakes in crappy roadside diners that are so unremarkable as to be special because they exist without being special. I regret not sharing a campfire with strangers.  I regret not stopping to talk on the trail.  I regret not searching for the intangible on a desert road that leads nowhere because it leads everywhere. I regret not driving across the country with someone I hardly know until we came to the place that we would always know each other.

I don't know what it is that I am searching for, but I do know that it isn't Nashville, or a job, or a better life or bigger car or a house. Pressed to it, I might be searching for the absence of all those things. But I don't know for sure now, and may not for some time; maybe this trip is far too short to find out.