Road Ready

“I keep my car packed.”

I’m getting to know a new friend. Her eyes opened a bit when she hears this tidbit.

“So I can run away,” I follow up.

Yes, so I can run away when I need to. It makes me smile, even now, to say “running away”.

When I was little, I kept an old wool army blanket rolled around a table knife, a spoon, and a can of pork and beans.  Didn’t have a can opener but figured I could use a rock to beat a hole big enough to poke that spoon into. With this kit and a snake stick, I could run away and stay gone a couple days.

Now that I’m pushing 60 years old, my kit is more developed and precise.  

What I pack:

·         A first-purchase sleeping bag rated to keep me warm at 20 degrees. It needs to be a brand new one, not leftover or scavenged from the closets of children now grown. I’m very cold-blooded and would feel any thermal thinning of the batting of a used and abused bag.

The Prairie Festival at the Land Institute south of Salina, KS was the last place I ran away to. I cozied up in my flannel-lined bedroll, prayed toward the stars and slept like a baby.

·         Two collapsible canvas lawn chairs. I have difficulty relaxing at home, but if I come across an impromptu concert or random parade in some tiny town on the plains, I want to be ready to sit and stay a while. This is more likely during county fair season – late summer.

I’ve been writing as I drive for years. My mind seems to free itself up about an hour out. I found a method to control my notebook and contain my supplies.

·         A 5-liter rubber-type plastic container with snap-on lid. (Yes) This container serves as a flat surface about elbow height on the seat beside me. It’s a good thing I’m right-handed. A small rectangle of non-slip shelf liner helps stabilize the paper and pen.

This container stays in the car and holds everything I need for a few days away. The contents are planned though the trip is not. The only ingredients I could add as I slip out the door predawn would be a chunk of cheese, bottle of wine, loaf of homemade bread, and a couple apples, if available.

·         Food: beef jerky, bag of nuts, two bottles of water, and a dark chocolate snicker bar (that has been in there for about three months already).

I don’t want to stop for food, or for anything except fuel. I’m running away, not going to town. These trips may not be premeditated, but they are intentional. They function to reconnect my heart with my head and my spirit with the God of the universe – one of the quantum dimensions anyway.

·         Tools: duct tape, multi-tool Leatherman, electrical pliers, large straight-slot screwdriver, pocket knife, plastic eating utensils, wine bottle opener, a couple bar towels for my lap as I drive. and toe nail clippers. Each tool holds its place in the travel bin due to prior experience.

         

·         There is usually a map of the central states in the car but I have a strong sense of magnetic north, so it stays in the seat pocket.  

When I begin to feel like a cornered coyote, tension building with no outlet, I sleep in my clothes, wake when God wakes me predawn, slip behind the wheel, and run away.

A song erupts from my heart through my throat with just a few miles under my belt. I’m able to breathe again. 

Today, just like when I was a kid, no one notices when I’ve run away. That stings a little bit but the main thing is that I’m able to breathe again and I do have that choice. I can always run away again.