Highway 67: The Road Less Traveled

After tooling along Route 66, I’m taking a detour onto Highway 67, the road less traveled. When asked about my journey to the heart of the American dream, I reply with a simple response: “It’s complicated. Lots of ins and outs, ups and downs and what-have-you’s. Certainly, new information has come to light.

I’m reminded of a scene from “Invincible” with Mark Wahlberg as Vince Papale and Greg Kinnear as Dick Vermeil. Papale: “Excuse me, my name is spelled wrong.” Locker Room Janitor: “Nothin’ personal, but by the time I’m through with this, will it really matter?” Or so the story goes, like a Coen brothers movie.

It’s been a rocky road, resulting in a few bumps here and there. Nonetheless, I hope to recover this fumble and head for the opposite endzone. “He could go all the way,” as no less that ESPN’s Chris Berman would intone. I'll jump the out and return it for a touchdown. No sweat, meester! I’ll do a dance when I get there.

Meanwhile, I’ll opt to take the exit onto Highway 67 and explore new horizons. Now fully retired, I will boldly go where no one has gone before: venture to the Owl Conservatory and trek into the wilderness, hang with my beloved family, travel to Italy, Spain and Switzerland, help raise a granddaughter, and the like. I have a few ideas.

As Carl Spackler says in Caddyshack, “I have that going for me, which is nice.” What’s not to like? So, as I meander down Highway 67, I’ll be like a sponge and soak it all in. As Nikki Rowe stated so eloquently: “There’s only one place I want to go and it’s all the places I’ve never been.” Along with my favorite haunts, of course. Onward!