A TRAVELER has a destination, an agenda, time constraints, enjoys PASSING scenery but usually cannot spontaneously stay the night with it.
A DRIFTER has direction (i.e. North), interests (in place of agenda), no time constraints, can sit with the scenery, even camp with it till he's had his fill. ----As I have poetized in these concluding verses of "A FULL SET OF STUFF":
Down back roads by lazy brooks
I take a nap or read my books;
Chase the wind, drift and roam:
let night overtake me everywhere home.
Live my life in a thousand places;
Share myself with a thousand faces;
drink in life till I've had enough,
Thanks to my rig and a full set of stuff.
To make my point I have selected a day in my life and will share my mental and physical experience. I will pick up my adventures where I left off before my long opine about the meaning of life.Motorcyclist entering the parking lot of White Sands, National Monument---see the sands in the distance? I motorcycled for years and can tell you that they are not the freedom machines they are touted to be----because they lack the essential element of comfort. I see these glory boys checking into a $60 motel at days end---do the math in my head---and feel sorry for them. A far better solution for the serious traveler is to engineer a high mileage car for sleeping.
With a companion, I took a long walk in these dunes---so seemingly similar but radically different from sand dunes. We were told that there's no place like this in the world---so I decided to get the story.
It was a blustery day, but Luke loved the dunes--romping all over them. Here's their million year story in a nutshell---WITH A VERY SURPRISING ENDING. An ancient sea covered this land--laying down layers of this stuff---the land rose to a tilt--rains dissolved the gypsum and carried it to a low point---lake lucero. When the water evaporated it left crystals of the stuff (sometimes 3 ft). Winds break off grains and blow them into dunes. The dunes slowly move like waves on the ocean across the land. Then (here comes the drama that only a drifter learns) at the edge of the dune field (comprising a total 275 sq miles) THE STUFF DISAPPEARS. Yes you heard me right---it disappears. Here's why: gypsum grains are soft (# 2 on the hardness scale---your fingernail is 2.5) and as they move northeast (prevailing wind) in dunes, they erode, becoming smaller and smaller---till at the end of their journey---they become dust particles and blow away.
RANDY PHILOSOPHIZES: I think drifting is an art requiring three essentials: