Drives to nowhere ...

Sometimes it just feels good, great even, to join a dear friend on a drive into the country, or up the coast, or into the city. It just feels good. To get in the passenger side of a well-waxed forest green classic automobile and slide deep into the leather seats knowing that the adventure is not in the destination, but in the journey.

This afternoon was one of those days. A crisp clear January day where the air is so cold and dry that the edges of every naked branch on winter-bare trees stands sharply against the azure sky. One of those rides. Destination unknown and of little consequence. Maps stowed in behind-the-seat pockets. A full tank. Minimal amounts of cash. Sunglasses. Nothing else needed. No baggage. Well, not much anyway!

Time stretches before us like an open road. The nose of the car points north then east then on the back roads past charming antique farmhouses, rolling fields and the ubiquitous neighborhood with mobile homes converted into ranch housing. The sea air luring us toward the shore. Cruising down rural highways traveled before ... and to be visited anew. Peaceful and alluring when snow covered. More colorful and vibrant in the sweet heady days of summer.

Deep in thought one moment. Spirited conversation the next. Familiar and comfortable, yet thrilling in an unpredictable way. These rides to nowhere. Nothing is everything somehow. Nothing can be just that. Nothing. But not today.

Cheers to no maps! No preconceived destination. That can wait until tomorrow ... or the day after.