Been on the road most all of my life,
Always going nowhere and back again.
An old used car and a Rand McNally map,
Do you remember when?

There was a two lane stretch that cleared the Rockies,
Interstate 80 was still an oil man’s dream.
Route 66 was the only way to go
If you wanted to make that California scene.

From Miami Beach to Seattle’s needle point
My compass was the passing of a westward sun.
Driving sometimes for five or six days straight,
In no particular hurry to get where I was going.

Down every other highway and around every other curve,
The chance to find a place that felt like home.
The motion of the wheels making it all worth while,
This life-long journey, going on and on and on.

And when it felt like things were getting sticky,
I’d wave goodbye to another twenty dollar town.
Top off the tank, grab a burger,
Check the oil, the wiper fluid, and then put the pedal down.

Then it was off across another mountain pass,
Past prairies, farms, great cities made of glass and steel.
Off into another sunset on any road I chose,
Just so I could feel alive again behind the driver’s wheel.

And yes, I marveled at God’s handiwork;
The deserts, the forests, the rivers running to the sea.
Though every time, once I arrived,
I’d get the urge again to leave.

But now the big red barns with their tobacco signs
And parks with their pristine streams and air
Are becoming harder and harder to find
And dreams to chase are rarely there.

But I can still feel the wanderlust,
As I have tried so hard to settle down.
And wish that I had enough gas in my tank
Even now, to get me out of town.




Michael S. True
2-13-14