I sail the land in a Levin that’s unwoffed, dereged, and waiting to break down. The wind in my hair as my stallion gallops through the desert. A smothering of Sand caked onto my windscreen, my salt washed hair blowing in the wind as I held my head out the window and fear the sun. The sun isn’t nice to my skin most days. Today my skin is lobster red, signalling the first day of summer. 2 more weeks and I should have a nice French tan.
I’ve been to all ends of this land, and with me I have brought my trusty 1996 Toyota Levin. The mileage is getting up there, and to be honest with you it hasn’t sounded tiptop all year, drives like a dream though, can’t complain.
Used to have a lot going on in life, a family that honoured me, a job that valued me, a wife that loved me. But last year I watched each one of those fall out of my life, like wiggly teeth dropping to the faucet. That was the moment I decided to donate my Suit, Sell my house, burn my tax reports, buy a busted Toyota Levin (My first Car) , say goodbye to my family and go wherever the tide swept me. Often times I’d end up in some backroad town I’d never heard of, and the interactions I’d get from people like store clerks; although I imagined it to be a tight knit community where an outsider such as myself would stand out like a sore thumb, they’d treat me like an old friend, with old fashioned kindness and sincerity, a trait all but alien to the City life for which I had known. This to me was the old way of life, how it oughta have stayed, where people greet one another in the street, the store owner knows you on a first name basis, people give you the time of day, and are happy to help you out when you need it.
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As the Sun falls, I usually find somewhere quiet to camp. I eat canned Tuna most nights. For the most part the only thing that’s really changed would be that my bed is not as comfortable. As I sit here with a kettle of water brewing over a gas cooker, sitting cross legged enjoying tuna straight from the can, in the middle of the desert dunes of the Cape; I make a mental promise to myself that wherever I set up Camp next have two trees. That way I can set up a hammock and enjoy the sunset as I read a good book before falling under an ocean of stars.
Some would say I’ve lost my mind. But I just say I’ve finally found it. Some might say I’m having a mental breakdown. I would say I’m rebuilding my mind. To live the life of a wanderer, not bound by a partner, job, house, or debt. One might say that I have a simple life, I just say that I’m a part of the greater beyond.