the road

When my son was little, each new hotel was an adventure. He’d scamper around the room, opening all the doors and drawers to look for hidden treasures — menus, locking safes, mini shampoo bottles, extra towels. He’d run down long carpeted halls at top speed, stand frozen and wide-eyed in gameroom doorways, and marvel at the free breakfast selections even if they were terrible.

What is “the road” if not the chance to look for hidden treasures, run at top speed, and find wonder in whatever happens to be there?