A Long Long Road

It’s a long way to wherever it is I’m going. Time to hit the road. After it’s too early. Before it’s too late. The destination is anywhere but where I am right now. And tomorrow it will be somewhere else. Somewhere a little further down the road.. I don’t stay anywhere too long. Comfort is the enemy. Keep moving. Don’t stop. With no particular place to go. Just go. But no matter where I end up, I actually end up right back where I started. And the cycle begins again. Nowhere is everywhere around me.

The car is filled with records. Books. Guitars. The important stuff. All I need to survive. I cant move in this thing. No wiggle room. Yet I keep accumulating more of it. With every stop is another load. I roam from town to town. Picking up whatever I can and dropping off whatever I can’t. A travelling junkyard of treasures.

Next stop is a village in Dingle. It’s taken a week to get here after a series of wrong turns and right twists. There is no easy way to get here. I’m working off a tip that there’s an old man with the biggest collection of blues 78s this side of the Atlantic. There is no address. Just a rumour. A myth. A jigsaw puzzle to solve. I may get sidetracked in Foxy John’s, the pub/hardware store where you can enter to purchase a lightbulb and leave five hours later with a belly full of Guinness. A dangerous place…. hazards like this could prove to be perilous to my mission. Will I ever find this old geezer? And will I ever make it home, wherever that is?

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