When I started on this career in 2008, I wanted to keep traveling.   I wanted to keep moving.   I wanted to have that little slice of the dynamic in my life.  The feeling like at the end of the day that things were accomplished.  It was something that was often lacking in my jobs up to that point in my life.

I’m approaching the Five Year mark with this job.  I have already put in more time in this job than any other single position before.  And so I guess it would be natural that I start seeing more of the sharp edges and less of the green fields.  Maintenance headaches.  Equipment headaches.  Health headaches…   It just seems to get worse and worse.   The micromanagement from both my Employer and the US Dept of Transportation (Yes, I know I’m posting this from Calgary, Alberta, more on that in a minute) has changed for the worse the job that I fell in love with in 2008.

I sit reflecting on these things while in a Denny’s inside the Flying J Truckstop on the South side of Calgary.  This one truckstop is deep in my heart  as almost a second home, though not for anything in particular to the place itself.  In August 2009, I spent more than a third of the month here, waiting for loads or to deliver loads on fixed appointments.  Things are different now.  The Flying J in-house restaurant is gone, the lot is smaller in part due to changing the scale and the LNG fueling station, but for the most part, I know this little corner of a FOREIGN COUNTRY almost as well as I know my home.

This city is on my list of places I want to travel in my own car, in my own time, on walkabout.  I want to bring family here to experience what I have.  There are all sorts of little out-of-the-way nooks that I want to share.  Its this one part of my job that starts to weigh the heaviest on me.  The changing of the regulations and additional micromanagement is a pain, but it’s just ‘Giving unto Caesar what is Caesar’s’.  The weight is that of having these things to share, and not having the energy or chance to blog about them, to tweet about it, or even just snap a photo to consider later.

Wanderlust was considered a curse not a blessing in the middle ages.  I can see why.  Never spending much time in any one place makes it hard for any one place to be a refuge of tradition.  But that’s just not so, I’ve put down little roots in so many places…  Places I want others to see.

I suffer from future-shock more than any ill effect of my wanderings.  Little things form a slice of life, still in time, and I keep that close and dear.  I’ll return to visit friends, family, or a place of strong emotions (like here), and things just seem like they are just like I left.  Except when they are not, then the changes are a harsh reminder that while things seem to feel like they are on hold while I’m on the road, they never really are.

But, in the mean time, the Gypsy Winds fill my sails and send me off on journeys unknown.  Life is the journey, not the distance or destination.