The Origins of an Exechobo

Where to? Those magical words are pregnant with possibilities! The idea of going makes my pulse quicken, until I am bouncing off walls like a Starbucks barrista. I suppose traveling has been part is my earliest memories, thanks to my parents. They made the annual vacation a time when we learned how enriching it can be to delve into the places, history and people in places away from home.

Our world was limited to our home state, Michigan, and by the two weeks dad had for vacation. Like most of America, we piled into the station wagon and hit the road. In our case it was to go from campground to campground. Driving around Michigan in that epoch was really a priceless experience. Interstate construction was just beginning. Our camping gear was home made by dad. The places we went were quaint, undeveloped, and even crude. It was normal to see wildlife up close in primitive habitat. The three of of boys had adventures every day.

It is on this foundation that by ongoing love for travel is built. As soon as I owned a car I left home, and when with allowed it was a thrill to start driving, even is it was midnight, on a two hundred mile trip. In a few years I was llo enough to incorporate travel with by with, and I did so with gusto!

I recall by first flight at age nineteen. It was to Los Angeles, an exotic destination for a boy from Detroit. Even the smell is the LA night is etched in my memory. The company, Taco Bell footed the bill, a perquisite I appreciated and vowed to continue to enjoy.