Off to the great unknown... literally.

My free-spirited mother and I just embarked on a journey. A journey involving the two of us and my dog Trevor all loaded up in an old Toyota Previa with a Rubbermaid full of Clif Bars, a Yakima box on top and a futon mattress in the back.

We have no idea what we’re doing or where we’re going.

…so yeah, on a sidenote, that’s basically my entire life summed up into one sentence.

And despite my general distaste for country music, this is where I say, “Jesus take the wheel!”

All we know is that we are headed south, in the general Arizona direction. Granted the south is not usually our direction of choice, but in November our favorite Pacific Northwest is a little cold and rainy for living out of a van with a furry friend. So, the dry, warm south is sounding pretty nice in comparison.

I’m pretty stoked, actually. Since I was 5 I’ve had a thing for cowboy movies… you know, the classic… Tom Selleck rockin’ a mustache and saving Aborigines in the Outback, Clint Eastwood taking out a band of bandits with intimidating-ly squinty eyes, and John Wayne making suspenders and a bandana around the neck look utterly badass. 

Now, I can’t rock a mustache, squinty eyes make me look like I’m sick, and I would not even try to make suspenders work with my wardrobe… they’d be insulted. But all that aside, I am so stoked to get a taste of what it feels like to be a cowboy, exploring the desert in my minivan of a horse.

Let the adventure begin, and here’s to secretly hoping I’ll find a Tom Selleck of my own who I can watch as he rides off into the sunset on his trusty steed… Oh Tom, how I hate to see you go, but I sure love to watch you leave. 

Aloha ke akua

-Dai