So loyal Raronauer'ed readers, bad news: I’m going away for a week. My BF For E and I are going on a road trip to invigorate the U.S. economy through reckless oil consumption.
In high school, my friends and I went to Montreal for spring break. On the train there, a border patrol guy asked the reason for my trip and I answered, “travel.” This is apparently not a valid response. You can’t just go to Canada to travel. You need to have pleasure or business involved.
But the best part of some trips is the travel. One of my favorite things about visiting my parents is taking the train. Each ride reminds me of the ones I’ve taken before. It’s a sentimental 34 minutes, thinking of the first rides I took with my dad, before I understood why he preferred reading to chatting, the ones I later took with my friends where our idle gossiping disturbed everyone else in the car, and the ones I eventually took by myself, where I learned the pleasure of reading a book in the increments of my commute.
So officially, my friend and I are going to Savannah. But really, we’re just going traveling.