So we’re about to road trip America…

Three days out and we’ve sold everything. Things from an Xbox and its accessories to a camera I didn’t even realize I owned. Cheap organizing drawers I kept since freshman year of college and a small fridge that’s kept its cool since then as well. End tables, night stands, and bookshelves — departed. Books and DVDs that have shaped me, inspired me, challenged me, are gone. Things that I thought I had to hold on to, stuff that held onto me, have been relinquished. Currently my living room consists of an old TV atop a crate, two lawn chairs, dust, cobwebs, and a rug I’m throwing out tomorrow. If you walked in you’d think I was on a set for Cops or I dealt drugs, which I guess is the same thing since I live(d) in Florida. But instead my wife and I are trading in the stuff to travel this country. We are hopping in my car, armed with only the essentials. We plan to spend 3–4 months visiting all the major cities and sights, then wherever we like the most, we are moving to in order to save up for our next journey. To accomplish this, we had to let go of everything. But it’s weird letting go. It’s weird venturing into the unknown without the things you’ve always packed, accounted for, and arranged your room with. It’s a weird feeling hanging out with people whom you’ve always been with and sensing the divide. It’s weird to eat your favorite queso one last time. It’s weird driving by places and inhaling the nostalgia. It’s weird staring at the precipice after working, saving, and sacrificing constantly for 15 months. It’s weird we’re about to jump. There’s a lot of lasts when you leave a place, but how many firsts are born to follow? That’s what we will explore here, every experience during our adventure.