While resisting the 9-5 grind for over a decade and travelling all over the world, living vicariously through other people’s travel images isn’t something I’ve felt compelled to do. But now that I’ve joined the ranks of the gainfully employed, it’s become a mild addiction, as painful as it is pleasurable.
To appease and prod my pain, I’ve started following Foster Huntington’s blog Van-Life and instagram. It’s mildly comforting to know that I’m one of more than 720,000 followers, most of whom like me, are parked in front of a computer screen rather than in a personalized hybrid van/truck/home at one of the remote and wondrous locations he’s snapped during the years he’s spent travelling since quitting his NYC design job.
The moment I traded in my old Subaru for a slick but fickle little euro machine- the thing is made from bird bones, three times in the shop since I bought it last month- I felt I’d given up not only a piece of my youth but the vehicle (literally and figuratively) of my freedom. Of course I can still rustle up a friend with a worthy beater, but I’m bereft of the liberty of knowing that I can hit the road, any road, anytime, and end up anywhere from the desert coastlines of Baja, to a secret river spot nestled deep in the Trinities, to a solitary Northcoast beach break. For now, Huntington’s tantalizing pics will have to suffice.