The Bus 1: Foundations

We're off. Out of Austin by 7 a.m., we're headed north out of Texas, sprinting through the Hill Country and southwest corner of the Great Planes as we leap to the start of our travels out of Denver and through the whole of the American West.

There are three of us on board; Mark, Christian and me, Dylan. We're rolling out of Texas to live on the move, looking for life in the passing of the world out the windows during in the gap between sunrise and sun set. We've got clothes, food, beds, an assortment of musical instruments, and everything we've imagined we'd need to sustain ourselves for two months on the road.

This iconic American liberty has long been a beacon for pilgrims and pioneers from all the world round. But the concept has changed. Freedom means not having anyone to tell you what to do, and its price is not war or patriotism like we're led to believe, but hard work and independence. From the Mayflower in Plymouth to the wagon trains out west, to Daniel Boone and Lewis and Clarke, on Texas cattle drives down the Cimarron Trail, newcomers to America have earned freedom by heading out into the wild, over the Appalachians with a wagon. They had no need for money, only sustenance and survival, and they set out betting only that they if they went the same way for a good long time, and if they were smart enough and strong enough to stay alive, and if they could find food to eat and water to drink and places to sleep along the way, then they'd get to a place where they could probably find what they would need to build a home and live their life. Then they would be free. No reliance on government or protectorates, just on one's self and and good luck from the earth. That's the freedom we're trying to find, in our own modern sense. We won't be hunting. We'll use public roads. And we still need money. It's the best that we could do. There are no wagon trains anymore.

In my past journeys I've speculated at the start about the things I'd learn and all the ways my perspective and ideas could evolve. But I've always been totally wrong. By now I've gathered that  there is no point guessing. The ways the world changes us only make sense in retrospect. 

So, I won't even take a shot at pinning down just what we'll all become after months of communal life roaming the semi-wild in a rolling home we've built to inhabit. I will, however, say what I expect to encounter.

We'll meet people. Everywhere we stop and go cradles a new nest of characters and personalities. In places far from city filth, people tend to let their defenses down, take a little more time to talk. Strangers, until proven dangerous, will be considered friends, and as we move along our way, we'll get the chance to know our species through a thousand individuals peppering the spectrum of human kind (in this region at least), revealing a variety among people that we may not notice in our stationary, insular lives.

Money will be held with new regard. We've all contributed equally, and all funds have been put in a single account, from which we draw for all of our needs. There are no personal possessions in this way, as everything we acquire becomes the property of The Bus, and of the small tribe that inhabits it.

There's a lot of energy to encounter along the way. The invigoration of waking with the sun and seeing the world change before evening, from desert to mountains to forests to hills, hay to buffalo grass, mesquite to pine, makes 24 hours seem more precious than we've come to understand. 

I believe also that there will be a lot to learn from the amount of effort we'll need to sustain ourselves. I’m not exactly far out of civilization we may be able to water. The doldrums of our suburban lives will be replaced with a long check list of daily tasks to stay stocked on food and water, keep our direction (we only have paper maps), maintain our engine, keep a less-than-filthy home and find a fine spot to camp that won’t draw any attention before dusk each day.

 And thus we've laid the foundation for all the unimaginable adventures that await down this road. More to come.