Wait. What state number is this for you? What’s been your most fun experience on the trip so far? Have you had any close calls? What’s next? How are you and your brother doing?
It’s been exactly a month and a half since setting out on the road and those are some of the questions I get. Most of the time I like to think I have a good story to tell. It really depends on how great my memory’s working that day. Hunkering down for the night at a truck stop in Alabama to wait out a storm that was spewing tornados left and right happened maybe a week or two ago and is a little more fresh on my mind than when my brother crashed and burned, hard, skating down a steep hill in North Carolina.
Lots of my friends have been very welcoming and have opened their homes to a couple of stinky brothers looking for a fresh shower and a place to do some laundry, and hangout with friends, of course. In this situation I don’t have much to offer in return for their kindness. The most I have to offer are stories and it seems like that’s more than enough.
Stories are the currency of travelers. Almost everyone loves to travel for different reasons: collect things, the thrill of not knowing anyone, seeing different sights, getting away from bosses, learning to put down the phone, reconnect with oneself, etc. That’s a short list of why we travel, but the one thing we want most when we travel is to collect stories.
We love to collect and tell those stories. That’s part of the reason I wanted to do this yearlong road trip. I wasn’t living a great story, in my opinion, and I needed something more. Something had to change in order for me to live a better story. Little did I know that these stories I’m collecting would turn into some form of currency.
Stories, they don’t carry a monetary value. They aren’t much to offer to someone letting me into their home, but I like to think it’s worth something. I like to think that a story is the traveler’s currency.