Road trips are made of these…

If the world was a sea then we would be the flotsam, drifting endlessly from one continent to the other – between cities and states and countries and territories – never to be stopped until we perish. For the quixotic version of eternity that we spend in each place, we drive. From the Mountains of Montana to the fjords of Norway and from the desolate outback of the Northern Territory to the lush highways of the Garden Route – it has been one delightful journey after another. I hope it never stops. I hope I always find something to reminisce and write about.
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