I have used this title before for a blog, and I find myself once again struck with wanderlust

Wanderlust – wan·der·lust \ˈwän-dər-ˌləst\ noun • German, from wandern to wander + Lust desire, pleasure:
Wanderlust is a loanword from German to English that designates a strong desire for or impulse to wander, or, in modern usage, to travel and to explore the world.

Watching the movie Into the Wild (which was also a previous subject in an entry) makes me start thinking about our life on the road. My body may be sitting still but my mind starts wandering. I remember the feeling I had when I first packed up the motor home, aka The CruiseMaster. The combination of excitement and fear was exhilarating, intoxicating as I thought about what adventures lie ahead. The feeling of freedom was overwhelming. I have always like to pack, whether it was a backpack, suitcases or just my volleyball bag, I loved it. I never knew really why. But now I know, it wasn’t the act of actually packing, it was the adventure that was following the packing. I think not knowing what is ahead or maybe the possibility of finding something new that spurs me on.

I miss the sounds of the road while driving in the Cruisemaster. The sound of the engine as it hummed down and flat country backroad. The sound it made as it pushed on up a steep grade towing the Liberty, never knowing if perhaps it would be its last hill because it was aging. Trucks roaring by us was never much fun at the time, they made the Cruisemaster rock and sway in their wake, but now they are something I would like to feel again.

Driving during the daytime was good because I could hunt for lost soles, I hated to think of missing one because the night hid it from me. However I really did like driving at night. The Cruisemaster seemed to run smoother, there was no one on the one, the cooler damp night air was peaceful.

I especially liked driving on back roads at night in the summer. I loved seeing lightning bugs lighting up in the open fields. I remember how the chirping of the crickets got louder as we passed by woods and then fade off, only to return again. It was that waning roar of crickets that mesmerized me and made the miles on the road seem to fly by. I enjoyed watching the mile markers change and to see 150 miles to our destination dwindling to 50 then to 0. There was something very gratifying about reaching a destination.

Although sometimes not reaching the destination is something that sticks in my head. Having to do an overnight stop in a foreign rest area or far off truckstop is another one of those things that at the time seemed an inconvenience, but it was at those stops that we were most free. We had our home right there with us, so we had no boundaries in essence. We could live anywhere. It is that freedom that my soul longs for the most.

Not don’t get me wrong. I like having roots, somewhere I can call home. But sometimes I just want to loosen the leash and wander off, wander off to somewhere I have never been. Somewhere where an adventure lies just around the bend just waiting for me too discover it. And of course with a lost sole pearched for me to find.