MY FAVORITE REAR VIEWS

Rearview Gym, High Point, NC

Rearview Hospital, High Point, NC

Rearview Farm Field, NC

The singer songwriter Mac Davis rose on the popular charts in 1980 with the hit song Texas in my Rearview Mirror.  The lyrics reveal the wanderlust of a youth following the impulse of what Joseph Campbell calls following your bliss.  Or to quote Mac in the song, “I thought happiness was Lubbock, Texas in my rearview mirror.”  I too had considered my hometown to be “a great place to be from” where I still return in my mind to recall so many pleasant memories of places, people and events, but I had read enough about the world outside those boundaries that the message in Texas in My Rearview Mirror struck a chord in me that still resonates. 

There’s actually an addiction named Dromomania for people that have an abnormal impulse to travel although wanderlust is strongly embedded in human history.  And studies suggest that these folks tend to be happier, more open minded, and more creative.  A rearview mirror represents the past for many and they wrongly feel hostage to it.  But there’s a good analogy illustrating that the rearview mirrors in all our vehicles are much smaller than our windshields which are designed to look ahead at the opportunity to follow our bliss for the rest of our lives.  I’ve read that we all have a low level of uneasiness about where we are in time because we seem to be wired with the subliminal understanding that our eternal home resides elsewhere in the future.

When I was leaving the gym yesterday and glancing in my rearview mirror, I noticed the reflection of the building in clear focus.  That’s when I got the impulse to circle around and photograph that image because it occurred to me that I always experienced more happiness in leaving that building than entering it!  It’s sort of like the observation that some folks light up a room by entering it and some by leaving it.  If I’ve had a good workout, I will also treat myself to a smoothie which I can rationalize as good for both the body and mind.  So, I purchased a Sunrise Sunset Smoothie and indulged in another happiness of driving to “nowhere in particular” to consume it. 

Although I’ve enjoyed most of the places where my travels have taken me, there are some that are much more enjoyable to leave than enter such as gyms, hospitals and hay fields.  I appreciated all of the people that supported me in those places, but they have always looked better in my rearview mirror!  

And I could have added a few more photos to my rearview series, but the straw in my smoothie cup hit bottom, prompting me to return back to the temporary place where I keep my stuff.

Link to Mac's song:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rXCm4BXJX40

SATURDAY MORNING FALL RITUAL

Fallen Feather, Jamestown, NC

Wanderlust for the Hero's Journey

I’ve had a wanderlust with automobiles since I was just a kid growing up in central Kansas. My uncle drove up in a new dark navy Olds Rocket 88 one day and I immediately recognized that this sculpted Adonis on wheels was the perfect fusion of art and engineering. I couldn’t wait for the day when I could drive a car and begin the Hero’s Journey. In the meantime, I probably added a hundred miles or so to the family car driving it up and down our driveway. Since then, I’ve easily logged well over a million miles behind the wheel of these modern chariots.

My friend and I made a daring escape away from the driveway and around the block in our sleepy neighborhood one sunny afternoon. As luck would have it, a friendly policeman noticed the probability that the driver of my dad’s car was sitting on a pillow to see over the dashboard. He pulled us over and asked if I had a driver’s license. I’m pretty sure that he already knew the answer. Fortunately, I was contrite enough and he was forgiving enough to follow us back into my parent’s driveway with my assurance that I wouldn’t venture out again until I was old enough to have a license—and no longer needed a pillow!


One of the milestones of my life was the day my father helped to finance my first automobile. It wasn’t the convertible that I had coveted, but it was a Ford Victoria hardtop that I quickly began to customize. The convertible with a teenager behind the wheel would have been trouble anyway. Ironically, I recently paid more for a lawnmower than that first car that sparked a lifelong love affair with these machines! A car has always represented more than basic transportation for me. I’ve owned a variety of automobiles since then and I’ve always taken pleasure in detailing them on a cool Saturday morning in the fall. There’s nothing like driving a car that’s been cleaned and shined on a bright fall weekend day. I swear that they have more energy—just like a kid or pet dog that has just emerged from a bath!

This September Saturday morning was no different than many others. The air was cool, the sun was shining and only a slight breeze stirred the trees. I was putting the finishing touches of a liquid shine on the hood of my car. The metallic surface was reflecting the blue Carolina sky like a clear Blue Ridge Mountain lake. And then a very petite and fragile feather drifted ever so silently out of the sky and landed ever so softly right in front of me. As you may know, feathers are a sacred universal symbol of flight, serving as messengers between this mortal world and the other side of the thin veil. Their primary message is that “all is well.” And on a glorious fall morning in September, how could life be anything else?