THE WESTERN WAY + + +

The western way shows a solitary figure on a journey of self-discovery.

That was my goal when I started.

Just me and the boys and a dog.

John, Bill, Stu, and Ruby.

I would encase the memory like high-silica ground water does to fallen logs buried in mud.

Except my memory would take three weeks, not 218 million years.

My initial plan:

I’d pack a lunch, gas up the car, and drive east until I got tired.

That was the plan for the first day, second, and third day.

Alone in the vastness of the Colorado Plateau.

But I’m married to a smart woman who worries about her boo out there all alone.

And kids. I have adult kids who I’d worry about if they came up with as asinine a plan as I did.

Together with sons and daughters in law, and me, my wife booked three nights of rooms that allow dogs.

The first in Boise, Idaho, the second in Orem north of Provo, Utah, the third in Winslow, Arizona, that changed to Gallup, New Mexico, then back to Winslow, and finally Gallup.

I was a little lost and out of cell phone range on reservation land.

But not out of range of the tracking app my little gang hooked me up with.

My wife followed my progress, then lack of progress.

I was going this way, then that way, and finally the right way.

 

The OTHER Plan

How many times have you heard about some old guy lost on the Interstate on the side of the road and out of gas?

A lady told me about her dad disappearing from Portland and calling from LA two days later not knowing how he got there.

He drove, but didn’t remember.

Did I really want to go isolation-travel?

Was it a life-long yearning to earn my Cowboy badge?

Man, I could head east on 84 and just keep going and no one would know.

Or, after making the turn south, take 80 to the end of the line.

That would have been the wild western way, the jack-ass plan.

If people care about you, and they do whether you know it or not, try not to let them down on purpose.

Trust your own quirky personality traits to let them down instead.

Was I glad to be on a tracking program?

Did I enjoy being digitally nannied?

Yes I did, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.

They knew where I was better than I did, but I had a secret weapon:

A paper road map.

 

Anxiety Plan Is No Plan

The loneliness of the long distance traveler is a real thing.

What was I really doing out there?

If I pulled into a rest stop full of pirates, would I know the difference?

Should I worry about getting hijacked, robbed, and murdered on some desolate road?

When it’s just you and no back-up, what do you do?

Pack a gun, a hand gun? If you do, how much ammo do you take?

You need self protection, right?

I thought about it but went another direction.

If I got hijacked I had a bargaining chip: Gold.

The gold is painted rock from my 50th high school reunion. Thanks, Mel.

The gold comes with an implement. See where I’m going?

I don’t know what it’s called, but you could kill a pirate and dig a grave with that thing.

Of course I had my secret weapon, my Rin Tin Tin, my Bullet, my Buck, my Duke, my Lassie.

My Ruby would rip an arm off a pirate and beat them with it.

Poodle Power, Doodle Powder, Phantom Power:

When you get a chance to go it alone, be sure to include others.

You’d want them to do the same if you’re a normal person.

Normal? Just stay on the path, trail blazer.

That’s the western way you need to remember.