I like road trips. There's something about tossing everything you need for the next several days into a small motorized container, crawling into the container yourself, and driving away to see the sights. Sometimes the sights are no farther away than a couple hundred miles but nevertheless it's a road trip. The road trips of my childhood were primarily goal driven. My father looked at land for which to yearn or consider purchasing. I don't recall that we ever actually bought anything we saw -- ranches large and small -- but we saw the sights of Texas and Nevada and even California where who would think cattle ranches ever existed beyond the times when most of southern California belonged to Mexico. Those land searches masked as vacations still inform my road trips. I find myself looking at the classified ads or the real estate hand outs searching for the perfect piece of property to buy or at least to consider for a few fleeting seconds buying.
Road trips. They're not necessarily about getting physically away from wherever it is I am most of the time but more about getting mentally and emotionally away so that when I come back home I'm not exactly right back where I started the trip from but a little more on the course of where my greater road trip leads me.