Sleeping in the truck had worked out fine. Karl took pride in his truck, a 95 GM pickup he'd bought off a guy who just retired from the warehouse. It had character and Karl like it because it was so unlike everything he stood for. He was not a working man, did not move large tools or steel, and yet every time he saw it and realized it was his, he felt a small swelling in his chest and had a remade self-image. It was what Karl could potentially be, not what he was. Everyone else just thought it an ugly waste of gas and money.
After trying his idealistic plan of going wherever the wind may take him, Karl realized that there are alot of dead end streets, and that drivin in circles takes alot more time than he was prepared to spend on such an endeavour. Thus with a heavy heart, he yielded to mapquest at 8:33 AM on the first morning of the journey. (http://www.mapquest.com/maps?1c=Bath&1s=NY&1y=US&1l=42.336899&1g=-77.3181&1v=CITY&2c=Fredericksburg&2s=VA&2y=US&2l=38.303101&2g=-77.4608&2v=CITY)
6 and a half hours. The first emotion Karl felt was anger. It seemed like such a short journey. Any normal person could make the distance in one day. 'bet Dad could make it there and back to Scarborough if some diplomat was trapped there' Karl pondered angrily. This was his quest, it was supposed to be epic, and now looking that all he had to do was head south for a while, it seemed to make it appear trite. Originally he was worried his family and acquaintances would be overwhelmed with fear at his bold escape, now he worried they'd not worry at all.
In any case, Karl got onto another highway and headed south. As he merged into the left lane still deep in thought the overweight orphaned philosophe laughed to himelf. Knowing how easy he could get lost, it would probably take Karl a week to arrive anyway. Turning on the CD player and singing along to his embarrassing mix of 'guilty pleasures' (Avril Lavigne, Blink 182, and Weird Al) Karl faded away into the world of music and remembered a line from an equally embarrassing book: "a music...a magic beyond all" (Dumbledore in Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone). But gay wizards aside, music really did bring calm, it reminded Karl of the most revolutionary action of all in life - when there is nothing left to look forward to - gratitude. To sing along happily to every sad moment in life had been a goal of Karl's. If we're all on this great Titanic, better to go down playing music with the band than give in to fear and despair.
At Williamsport, Pennsylvannia Karl stopped for food, fuel, and nature's call. Inside the gas stations' mini-mart, while the attendant pumped his gas he looked at the great assortment of choices. Mountain Dew, Doritos, Hostess cupcakes. It was practically the ingredients for a LAN. Then as a beautiful red-haired girl stepped into the store with her stoner boyfriend Karl embarrassingly replaced all these items with their 'healthy alternatives'. Diet root beer, cheese flavoured rice cake chips, and sugar free gum. Ultimately these others didn't notice - and neither did the cashier, busy watching a sporting event of some kind on TV.
As Karl drove off he was ashamed of himself. Not that he saved himself from a potential heart-attack and/or bad breath (doritos do that), but because he gave in to the will of the herd, he sacrificed his own choice for the arbitrary judgment of others. This was the mortal sin of philosophers, Nietzsche would be ashamed.
Knowing that this line of thinking would lead to despair Karl began to think about 'the good ol' days'. He remembered LAN parties with all his nerd friends. The chief topics of conversation being: would you rather have force powers, or a time machine, and similar existential quandries.
From St. Genevieve high to undergrad days in TO, Karl had a solid group of guys. Once a month they'd all assemble at someone's place for their communion of nerdiness. Of late the group seemed to disappear, and Karl's guild had to pick up the interpersonal slack that he craved. But when the old gang got together, they still drew pictures of their school teachers to throw darts at, discussed the fates of the popular kids, and took solace in the past, that indestructible record, always available for the one with the strength of heart to look back on better days.
As the son set, Karl pulled into Hagerstown, VA. He had crossed the state line. After eating dinner at Applebees and receiving many confused and derisive glares from servers and fellow diners alike, Karl found another dead end road. It was surrounded by trees, and Karl parked his truck and set things up. The back seat was leveled off from the many blankets he had shoved ontop of his suitcases on the floor. Getting comfortable he opened his laptop, emailed his guildies to let them know of his impending arrival, and began to watch the fifth element. 'Time doesn't matter, only life' Fr. Vito Cornelius reminded him (and Bruce Willis) and Karl didn't feel embarrassed that he was 27 years old and sleeping in a pickup truck in a town he'd never heard of, heading to the 'great LAN in the sky' to meet his friends of 5 years for the first time.
Karl was enjoying Nostalgia, he was enjoying a life with only the vaguest of self-determined goals, no impositions or obligations, the joys of the past, and the bright promise of tomorrow.
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