Among the things I don’t actually know to be scientifically proven but assume to be true based on observation, risk-addiction doesn’t appear to be genetic.
Some people do a lot of crazy, scary, dangerous, adventurous, amazing, story-worthy things with their lives.
I, unfortunately, am firmly ensconced within the second group, where I am safe from lions and guns and live wires and other such exhilarating things, but am also disappointingly, cringe-inducingly boring and wimpy…and am even scared of the possiblity of having nightmares involving doing the things other people want to do in real life.
Such is the way of these things.
Okay, so it was nothing like a Roxette song, but it was an adventure. There’s not much more freeing than packing your stuff into the back of your own car and driving into the sunset. And there’s not much more grown up than realising when you are really really tired and should stop to sleep instead of charging on towards a goal regardless of all danger..
Lorries, even sleeping lorries, are loud. Lorries full of animals are cruel at the best of times, but are especially cruel when they have to travel so far that there are overnight stops. Those animals are [understandably] even louder than the refrigerator lorries.
The rain, when it falls, is loud. The choice between fresh air and a wet car is difficult to make while half asleep.
The seats are only so long. I’m a fairly short person and my car is fairly big, but my feet spent a lot of the night trying to find something to rest on/against.
The sun comes up on its own terms. There are no curtains in a car. You can’t choose when to turn the lights on. You get what the weather fairy gives you.
There are many things which could be considered suboptimal.
But. None of them cancels out the sense of adventure and the feeling of being alive. In fact they add to it.
So would I do it again?