I had a talk with Bartowsky yesterday about this trip. (Pictured here on one of the motorcycles we will NOT be using on this trip.) I call him "Bartowsky," or "Buddy," or "Buddy Bartowsky," or "Don" depending upon the day or the mood. His name is Don, by the way. (I'm Dan.)
We are both psyched up and anxious and looking forward to this trip and can't wait, but...
We talked about what this trip really means. It is not necessarily about hitting up the three coasts of the U.S. in one glorious expenditure of fuel, miles, days, cash and tires. It is actually about indulging in that rarest of commodities -time. I can think of no greater gift that I am capable of giving to my son as he transitions through his stages of life. Time is a myth. A construct that engages in rock and roll disappearing acts. Smoke and sound and fury... and occasionally applause. Use it because you will certainly lose it.
He feels the same way. Bartowsky wants the time together first and foremost. Then the trip married to destinations and adventure in equal measure. Something to talk about. Something to share. A film recorded in the archives of his life.
The other thing, actually one of the more important things, is this undertone of homage to a nomadic legacy passed down from my beautiful father (and best friend) to his grandson. Bartowsky and I both feel it, sense it... and only occasionally talk about it.
Alzheimer's, that bastard of diseases, has taken a hefty toll on my father, and I will never completely understand the "why" behind the disease, even though I can still find the blessings in it. But before the disease, my father, like all the men in his family -right down to the eight year old in our house -was a restless and untamed man who lived life in huge helpings of adventure and exploration. His zeal, masked by guarded optimism and button-down professionalism, has always been palpable -hidden away within an enormous heart that reveled in all of God's creation. This trip is also about him. This trip is his legacy as much as it is our future memories. The past made present -warped by time. And thus the name of our blog: Fast Present.
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