Walk, drive, hitch-hike, fly, boat, swim, crawl, dream, however - you still travel the road. That ribbon connecting here and there, and there, and there again. Bhudda, Woody Guthrie, Alexander, Gandhi, Coltrain, your grandparents, you and me, it does not matter. We are all on the road.

It's a love/hate affair. Take hitch-hiking, for instance. Sometimes you can wait for days at a time in one place, maybe see three cars, maybe have some nut case throw garbage at you, maybe freeze your cojones, amigo. But then, the sun comes up, or a rabbit appears in the bushes near your pack, or you get this ride with a character who once worked for the Hudson Bay Company. Before it was a chain store.

Or you get picked up in a downpour by a guy who takes you to his house, introduces you to his family, feeds you, let's you get your clothes washed and dried, puts you back on the highway 20 miles down the line fatter and warmer and happier than you've been in weeks.

Makes you appreciate the road, the journey, the life you've been granted. Just that much more.