As said in Getting OUT of OCC, I aim to buy a van. I aim to do the van life.

Don’t know exactly how. I’ll fill in the blanks later. Regardless, I figure if I can live out of a Yaris for a while, as I did last summer, a Dodge Promaster 2500 should be much easier.

I hope.

I know the van life will get old. I’m not the smallest man. And, in spite epically slovenly habits in college – like in Animal House – I’m now a neat freak. The small confines of a van will cause a bad habit to erupt from my mouth at least once.

Don’t care.

It’s like yesterday…

Went down to Phoenix for stuff. Went to South Mountain. Always wanted to see it – kind of .

To the northwest of Phoenix are the White Tank Mountains. From Soth Mountain they loomed in the far, smoggy horizon. They’re out by Lake Pleasant. I’ve never explored them.

Google Images of the White Tanks don’t look epic. They’re probably brown, igneous mountains like so many across the Sonoran and Mojave deserts.

Don’t care.

Driving north back to Sedona, being nearer to them, it occurred to me that if I had a van, I’d have headed west to them. I’d have found some place to park, and watch their colors change until sunset. Why? Why not?

I suppose I’m saying the prospect of heeding random, romanticized impulses to see landscapes is a state of being I’ve always wished I had while traveling. I’ve always wanted to be spontaneous. I’ve always wanted not to rush and plan and be meticulous with my destinations and accommodations. I know I’ve missed out on life for not being spontaneous.

Unless God has other plans – and I’m serious – I’ll find out what spontaneity does for the soul.

And the featured photo is not MY van. Still need to get one.