I don’t know where we’re going. OK that is a little bit of an exaggeration, but it feels that way sometimes. Like this past weekend when I told everybody we were going to North Carolina to climb rocks. Then we really studied the weather, the guidebook, and our souls and ended up in Virginia. It’s right above North Carolina. It was in the general direction of North Carolina. But the real clinchers were that the weather looked better and it didn’t have scary run-out slab.
At times this adventure we’re on has felt like On the Road, but I shouldn’t be surprised. We knew it would get cold up east, we knew there could be family trouble and we knew we were desperate to get out on the road and get this journey under way. This past weekend it hit me. We could go anywhere we want, I just didn’t know where I wanted to go. Now many of you might scoff at such a thought, I totally understand, but remember with whom you dealing. I’m an indecisive Kaufmann who idles rougher than a 60s muscle car and needs routine and structure in his diet.
So don’t go thinking we’re on some Dean and Sal road trip just yet. We’ll get the cadence figured out here sooner or later. We haven’t had to pace doing nothing for a long time. And if I go telling you we are going to climb rocks in Alabama, don’t be surprised if we end up on the beach in Georgia instead.