Making advanced bookings for a road trip is like calling a paint-by-number poster a master piece. Sure, it looks fine but it has no soul, and you usually run out of Phthalo Blue long before the sky is done, which means another trip to the craft store and spending more time than is probably healthy rearranging the papier mache letters on the shelves to spell out all the flavours of quarks, and giggling when you get to "bottom".
We leave tomorrow, for an unexpected road trip that hopefully will result in at least one day of surfing. I don't know where we will be staying but Husband keeps saying things like, "Bah! We'll figure it out!" and "La Parc Provincial du Walmart Parking Lot."
Onward!
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