“I’m going to roll on over the mountains and down to the sea.”

When I announced to friends and family that I was going to embark on the 2018 Purge and Connection Tour, everyone wanted to know where I was going and what I was going to do – and what the dickens was a Purge and Connection Tour?

It was surprisingly difficult to explain (and for them to accept) that I did not know where I was going, how long I would be gone, what I would be doing, or offer anything remotely resembling an itinerary.

I thought it was simple — I was going to go away, and when I ran out of money, I might come back. I had stumbled upon a poetic response to appease everyone that felt they needed (or had a right) to know. It worked, for a while, until they started asking, “Which mountains? Which sea?”

With the guidance of my faithful quarter, I rolled on over the majestic Blue Ridge Mountains, descended along the gentle hills of the Piedmont Plateau, crossed the expansive tobacco fields of Marlboro Country, and eventually found the mosquito sanctuary known as the Coastal Plain. The phrase, “You can’t get there from here. You have to go someplace else first,” must have originated somewhere near wherever I was, because I went to a whole bunch of places on my way to someplace else.

I traversed Virginia, North Carolina and South Carolina over the course of the next dozen hours. At the end of that day, I made a quick check on Google Maps and discovered that it would have taken a mere five hours via the Interstate. But then, I would have missed out on the thrill of Yadkin Junction, the warmth of Snuggs Road, and the tug of Turbeville. You only live once — with those places, once was enough.

That evening, somewhere within the general vicinity of the Atlantic Ocean, I settled in for the night at the least creepy of the available $50 per night motels. It was much more than several miles inland because, apparently, motels in my chosen price range were not at the ocean front. I had rolled over the mountains, but had not quite made it to the sea.

The next day, I triumphantly completed the connection and stood in the waters of the Atlantic. Blue flowered shirt, khaki cargo shorts, and black sandals with white stripes shouted to everyone on the beach, “Look at this gaudy footwear, on these very pale feet, affixed to these ghostly white (and blue veined) legs, attached to this sunscreen-deficient body.” I looked like a cross between Santa Claus on vacation and Jimmy Buffet after three lonely days in a brown L.A. haze.

Just like all the rest of my friends, I needed a picture to prove my lies. I was ankle deep in the ocean and did not know how to take a selfie (don’t judge — we all have our secrets and shame). Surveying the sparse, early morning beach population, I could not help but notice an attractive, age appropriate (very important) woman, leisurely strolling across the sand. I gregariously (and shamelessly) approached her, explained my ineptitude with personal communication devices, and demurely begged her help. She graciously acquiesced.

Since I had already rolled on over the mountains and finally made it to the sea (and, now, with the help of this pretty lady, had pictures to prove it), it was time to focus on other pursuits. It was time to minimize the “purge” and ramp up the “connection” parts of the tour – time to quit throwing away and time to start grabbing on. She took my picture, I thanked her, she smiled, we talked, then walked – later we had dinner and drinks. I didn’t need my quarter to decide on staying another night.

Most problems have more than one solution – some solutions can solve more than one problem.

Larry Wilson  is a mostly lifelong resident of Niles. His essays stem from experiences, compilations and recollections from friends and family. He can be reached at wflw@hotmail.com.