Up with the sun, gone with the wind,
She always said I was lazy.
Leavin my home, leavin my friends,
Runnin when things get too crazy.
Out on the road, out neath the stars,
Feelin the breeze, passin the cars.
Women have come, women have gone,
Everyone tryin to cage me.
Some were so sweet, I barely got free,
Others, they only enraged me.
Sometimes at night, I see their faces,
I feel the traces they left on my soul.
Those are the memories that made me a wealthy soul.
Bob Seger
Sitting in the classroom of a large parochial school in 8th grade he dreamed up his escape. A large white paneled van that he would eventually forever call “the chicken truck”. The idea of driving West with shelves of chickens doing what chickens do, and stopping in small towns to sell eggs at local markets was the quiet image that satisfied his fantasy of travel. Looking back he sees a sense of sustainability in his plan, eh?
Of course a life of travel in his mind or on the road, would not have been possible without some support and encouragement. This came in spades from the two that born him into this fish bowl. Early on, when obstacles arose or friends bailed, they simply suggested that he should “just go,… alone”. And so he did.
Once, while out on an Indian reservation in Arizona, he was standing in a phone booth (remember those?) and he told her that the booth was surrounded by Indians. And it was, however they were just sitting around in the early morning sun posing him no threat. Never one to worry, she just responded, “now you just call me back some time when you have something positive to say”. Click.
It occurred to him that perhaps although people love and care about you, ultimately they have no control over life’s variables. In other words, it’s not that they don’t care; it is that they cannot care for you.
