Cadillacs And Lost Highways

It was the summer of 97 and a new day was awakening with a dazzling sunrise.  I was walking by the ocean soaking up the warmth of the sun’s rays and the quiet of the morning.  My son had moved down to Florida for the summer and for the first time in years I was free to do anything I wanted.  The heat was already beating down and being outside made me drift off.  I was daydreaming, thinking about what I would do with my summer.  The possibilities were endless and most of them were about a road trip to Saint Simons, a small island off the Georgia coast.

I always dreamed that one day I would like to buy a long black Cadillac convertible.  I would find the nearest backroad, let the top down, put some Johnny Cash on the radio and drive.  Then maybe when the land flattens out to where the sky seemed endless, turn it up and play Rambling Man by Dickey Betts.  I had songs for the road, songs for the night, songs to forget and songs that told me everything would be all right.   It was a one of a kind mix CD made for driving, and it covered a broad spectrum from Guns & Roses to Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes.

These were some of the songs that were the soundtrack of my life that summer, probably my last summer of being young and spontaneous.  Like the story of the wayfarer, I could feel the highway tugging upon my soul whispering to me to take one last sojourn; maybe not a journey of learning but one of reflection.  Perhaps I needed to walk again on the sandy driftwood beaches of Saint Simon Island and let the sea wash away my restlessness.

I think all of us that write and play music bare our souls, recklessly sharing our words with the world.  Even the artists that paint their pain and joy on a blank canvas fearlessly share the beauty they create.  We all, occasionally, need time to walk away for a while.

I seem to have this built-in longing for the road.  While I love a quiet place to write and for solitude, often the road tugs hard on me.  Beckoning me to let go for a while, buy that Cadillac and find the lost highways one more time.

Point Of View

Sometimes we just need to roll down the window, feel the breeze blowing our hair and turn the music up loud.  To a lot of us, the road represents freedom, a freedom found in nothing else we do.  The road is forever a place of spontaneity, peace and an opportunity to forget, if only for a moment, and just be.


Larry Tyler
Larry Tyler
Awaken the possibilities … then unleash them. After 55 years of successful retail management, I have returned to my passion of writing. I write Poetry, Storytelling, and Short Stories. As a child, I grew up on front porch storytelling. I would sit and listen to my Dad and his brothers tell these great stories that were captivating, and I always wanted to hear more. I wanted to experience the things they talked about. I started writing at a young age and reading everything I could get my hands on. At twelve years old I started a storytelling group and several of my friends became writers or poets. At 16 I hopped box cars and worked the tobacco fields, orange groves, picked cotton, and spent many nights around a campfire listing to life stories. Someone once asked me why I wrote. It consumes an amazing amount of time and I assure you it is not going to make me rich. I write so that my children can touch and feel my words telling of the ones that came before us and the stories they told me. These are the chronicles of our family and even though they come from my childhood memories and are deeply rooted in a child’s remembrance at least they may feel what it was like in the time before them and cherish the things the elders left behind. I am a Columnist & Featured Contributor, BIZCATALYST360 and I have The Writers Café, a group on LinkedIn that features Poets, Writers, Artists, Photographers, and Musicians . On Facebook I have two groups and one page; Dirt Road Storytelling, From Abandoned To Rescue Dogs And Cats, and About Life, Love And Living. As writers, it is true that we honestly do not know what we hold within us until we unleash it. When our words inspire others only then will inspiration return to the writer. I will spend my twilight years in search of the next story, the next poem, and the next image. I will take the time to enjoy my Wife, our Dogs, and Cats, and our amazing new home and I will always find the time to walk down a dirt road I truly hope is that I never have to read another book on Leadership, be on a conference call or see another plan o gram as these were the tool for what I did in life and not about who I am.

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