California. Photo by Jesse Maskell.
We crossed the border this morning. No-one there to check our licence, registration. Six hundred miles. Sorry. Six hundred stories.
We’ve been driving awhile. Eight years, somehow. People come and go. Quite a few stay for a story and we never see them again. Maybe they’ve only got one narrative in them. Maybe they’re on their way to someplace else. That’s okay.
Some stay for a few miles, a handful of honest-to-the-bone revelations. Or light yarns. Long enough to appreciate the drive for a little while before seeming to say to no-one in particular, “That’s far enough, I’ll get off at the crossroads here thanks.” That’s okay too. Everyone’s got lives. Don’t forget your backpack.
Some are in for the long haul. Smokie, Rijn, Damian, Louise, Lucia, Luke, Martina, Andy, Rick, Nick, David, Zoe, Stephen…more. Plenty more. Good company as the lines disappear under the chassis.
Some seem to come from nowhere, from beyond the waters. From the skies. Lord knows how they find us. Maybe we were on the side of the road, rain falling on our shoes. Checking under the bonnet. Maria from New Zealand, way back at the start, when the engine first kicked over. Bill from Canada. Jim from Minneapolis. Cher (no, not that Cher) from Las Vegas. Nate from California. Niles from Memphis. Madeleine from New Jersey.
They get onboard and all of a sudden the car’s bigger, the windscreen’s wider, the road’s still worth it.
When we need to re-fill we steer clear of those huge freeway service-station-fast-food metropolises. You know the ones. All asphalt and plastic and glare and neon. Bright and busy and bigger than the little towns that they bypass. There might be more stories there, more readers too, but we keep taking the backroads. Maybe that’s a stubborn mistake. Foolishness borne of ignorance. Or vice-versa. Marketing, you say? Branding? Search engines? Hash-tags? Grants? Crowd-funding? (We got coffee cups, at least!)
But we haven’t run out of gas. Not yet. And there’s these things called concerts that we do with the band, but that’s another story.
We crossed the border this morning.
Design by Chris Rees
Discover more from Stereo Stories
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
Vincent Maskell
Vin is founding editor of Stereo Stories and director/MC of Stereo Stories In Concert.
So proud to be part of the journey. Long may it continue.
Stereo Stories In Concert is an experience not to be missed. Expertly crafted and lovingly performed, it’s a rollercoaster of emotions and a joy to witness. Hopefully again, soon
Bloody wonderful Vin. You touched a nerve and the writing hands of romantics everywhere continue to twitch.
Congratulations Vin! Stereo Stories is a magnificent concept and an absolute winner. And, as Bob says, ‘may you stay forever young’.
Well done, driver.
We can get this hulking truck all the way to Canada (oh, we already did that border crossing), perhaps take it east. I’m thinking we may need a nap at The Hotel California.
Take it easy!
Good on you Vin and your very Supportive family .. “family road trip”
I love a good road trip and the good times and company sure help. Thanks for all you do!
Very proud to be a Stereo Stories alumni.
Long may the road trip continue!
Well done Vin and all!
Thank you for building and driving the truck Vin! Very glad to have taken the trip in such good company.
Hi Folks,
Yes, a wonderful project, may it keep on traveling.
It’s been great to be a part of the trip.
Luke.
Sure am on my way to a ‘Bran Nu Day’ with all of Vin’s friends! Cheers
I’ll never be a prolific contributor but I’ll always be a dedicated advocate on the other side of the globe. Cheers to the road so far, the milestones to come, and all the stories still to be told. It’s a joy to be both along for this ride and part of the enrapt audience.
Such a brilliant idea. Enjoy these stories and songs so very much. So glad to have hitched a lift..