I drive a lot. I think it was passed through DNA from my dad to me. When thoughts jumble up in my brain, and the path forward is not Clear, I get in my truck and drive.
I don't have to have a goal or destination. I just need time on the road. Somehow the drone of tires on asphalt and the wind rumbling through a rolled-down window clear channels in my mind. Sticking my arm out the window and hand surfing the air rushing by the window is therapeutic. I think people could save thousands of dollars they pay for counseling if they just drove.
Several years ago, after I'd been retired for some time, and I was struggling – not financially, but I felt as if I were losing my sense of purpose. My self-worth was at stake.
It was serendipity that my friend Dan who owned some newspapers, asked if I'd like to do some part-time work for him. That resonated.
He gave me a freelance assignment to interview one of the wealthiest people in Alabama. The gentleman lived near the southeast edge of Alabama.
That day driving for hours through the backroads of Alabama was transformative. I saw things in a new way. The interview was delightful.
During the drive home, I stopped by the road to stretch my legs. The moss hanging from the trees, and the light reflecting on the metal roof of this house built during the Great Depression did a mental reset on my malaise.
I was grateful for that day and my time on the road.
I don't have to have a goal or destination. I just need time on the road. Somehow the drone of tires on asphalt and the wind rumbling through a rolled-down window clear channels in my mind. Sticking my arm out the window and hand surfing the air rushing by the window is therapeutic. I think people could save thousands of dollars they pay for counseling if they just drove.
Several years ago, after I'd been retired for some time, and I was struggling – not financially, but I felt as if I were losing my sense of purpose. My self-worth was at stake.
It was serendipity that my friend Dan who owned some newspapers, asked if I'd like to do some part-time work for him. That resonated.
He gave me a freelance assignment to interview one of the wealthiest people in Alabama. The gentleman lived near the southeast edge of Alabama.
That day driving for hours through the backroads of Alabama was transformative. I saw things in a new way. The interview was delightful.
During the drive home, I stopped by the road to stretch my legs. The moss hanging from the trees, and the light reflecting on the metal roof of this house built during the Great Depression did a mental reset on my malaise.
I was grateful for that day and my time on the road.
