“All who wander are not lost,” proclaims the bumper sticker.
Better. “Some who wander are lost and like it that way,” say I.
Wander. Get lost. There is always another road and another. They all lead somewhere. Yesterday Boots and I wandered in West Virginia. Up and down the hills on back roads. A right turn at a Y took us on a narrow dirt and gravel road. We passed isolated houses and only the parked cars at those houses. Trees shaded and hid us from overhead view. We were enshrined in green and brown with the bursts of pink from the mountain laurel. We stopped to share the chili cheese fries. We may have been hidden from overhead view but not from signals. At last I punched Morgantown into the GPS. No longer lost. Only a few miles from the rowdiness and life of a college town. Fantastic! Our wander brought us right to the Pilot. Gas at $2.27/gallon.