I can hardly believe it: my wife and I have a chance to get away.

People tell me you have to get out of Taos every so often, for reasons that would never be apparent to you unless you stayed here over an extended period of time, and they’re right. This is Taos, and everything else is the world. They’re not the same thing at all, which is exactly why I’m here. I sensed that for the longest time before we ever showed up, though I never knew how true it was until I’d lived it. (My old friends probably think this line is arrogant. Not so!)

This is exactly why anyone who comes here to retire is insane — not that we did, I can never “retire,” and pretty soon, neither can you. Ah well. What matters most here is a level of personal freedom that includes way more of the freedom to fail, you might say, than any place I’ve ever experienced. There are no limits of the sort sanctioned and created by social or government safety nets. This is a HUGELY WONDERFUL THING, but it takes you into realms you would not otherwise inhabit, and that’s precisely what will drive you mad unless you’re an artist or love to surf the sea of marginalism. Still, one has to get away, and in a few days, we’ll be heading north to visit my wife’s siblings in Dubuque. Talk about antithesis!

It’s a glorious time of year to travel. As we head north, we’ll pass drop down in altitude and encounter more-developed springtime. The small towns of Nebraska and Iowa are a fabulous antidote to the forced self-examination of living on the edge, though I expect $5 per gallon gasoline will start breaking minds soon enough. On the way up there, we won’t have much of a chance to take the back roads. That happens on the return trip.

But we do have a truly inspiring drive heading north from Taos. I wish everyone I know back East could take this route up to Colorado, through what I call “Rand McNally white space” all the way to Brush, where one finally joins the Interstate. How many of you can even imagine driving all day long and seeing fewer than a couple of dozen other vehicles? After having nothing but pronghorns, prairie, and mountains for companions, hitting that divided highway is a total shock: suddenly it’s rolling semis, country music, nothing good to eat, and designated places to pee. THE WORLD!!!

Sleek, fat teenagers with television eyes working at McDonald’s, unclouded assumption of the right to exist, a landscape of the mind… but also things I do remember fondly, like the comfort of the herd, and pavement! (We have a real car now instead of just a truck, reminding me that asphalt has its uses.) If I keep my hair tied, I can pass. I used to live there, and it was mostly good.

There will be pictures and audio recordings from the road. Stay tuned…