The open road still softly calls, like a nearly forgotten song of childhood
And that's why i have to go back to so many places there to find myself and constantly examine myself with no witness but the moon and then whistle with joy, ambling over rocks and clods of earth, with no task but to live, with no family but the road.
There is your car and the open road, the fabled lure of random adventure. You stand at the verge, and you could become anything.
I saw a Dead Head sticker on a Cadillac. A little voice inside my head said, don't look back, you can never look back.
When I'm riding my motorcycle, I'm glad to be alive. When I stop riding my motorcycle, I'm glad to be alive.
The road is a fun place, and it's a great place to get out there and explore the country. But as far as the road life with the 'rock n' roll temptations,' there's not much of that with me.
Motorcycles aren't about gaining agency, I don't think.
Adventure-seasoned and storm-buffeted, I shun all signs of anchorage, because The zest of life exceeds the bound of laws.
For all its material advantages, the sedentary life has left us edgy, unfulfilled, even after 400 generations in villages and cities, we haven't forgotten: The open road still softly calls like a nearly forgotten song of childhood.
I'm in road-coma at the moment. But it's OK. I think you subliminally become a junkie of being on the road. As much as you think you're burnt out, the minute you get off you go stir crazy and you just wanna go right back.
Beauty is and always will be blue skies and open highway.
I love my family, and there's so many things in life I enjoy, but when I'm in the car there's nothing else that means anything.
The open road still softly calls.
It's a balancing act of you feel horrible that you're away but there is something about the road that is rather liberating.
