Here I am, on the road again…

Two words: “Road Trip!” I’d been kicking around the idea of a bi-costal binge with my son Kyle for some time, but hadn’t actually committed to it… Until yesterday. As I sat in this position, half working on a Saturday and half wishing I wasn’t, the looming two weeks in August traveled back in time like a cloned T-Rex and jumped me, or as Kerouac brilliantly scripted, I felt “the sensation of death kicking at my heels to move on…”

It’s not that I haven’t done a road trip. Attending the University of Arizona provided several opportunities for multiple time zone road excursions. Of course, the first one was the best. As Mike Gonnella and I approached the MA Turnpike West around midnight back in August of ’77, we were, “at the dividing line between the East of my youth and the West of my future…” It’s a certainty these words would not now be appearing had we not paid that toll. We were not yet 20 year olds from Wakefield, MA wanting more out of our college experience than the many local venues could offer, so we hit the highway West. Already best friends, that trip bonded us with a unique experience only the two of us lived. I want Kyle to get a taste of that being “on the road.” Well, without the beer, pot, and crazy satanic chick we met in Springfield, IL…

Mike now lives in Phoenix, so it seems natural to me to begin and end our trip with some Dillard time. It’s been many, many years since I’ve seen my friend, but we share a union that’s not breakable by time or distance. Kyle and his father have some trip details to work out on itinerary, but more importantly, soundtrack. Dillard and I were totally synched on Pink Floyd, Zep, AC/DC and lots of KISS, but Kyle and his father are not. Can the two of us survive over 2,000 miles in a car hosting a sonic steel-cage, triple tag-team match featuring Mary Poppins, Celine Dion and “Mamma Mia” versus Wilco, Sloan and the Drive By Truckers? I think so. After all, we’re already best friends.