When I tell people I am heading to Manitoba for a guided bow hunt the response I normally get isn't "Where in Manitoba?" it's more like "Where is Manitoba?"
"I don't really know," is my patent response - and that's not all that far from the truth.
I know it is many, many miles away - a fact that will surely be driven home as my hunting chum, Mike Fenoff, and I take to the highway this week for the 1,900-mile ride.
My concern isn't so much the 1,900-mile ride, but more the 19,000-mile ride back .... or so it will most certainly seem.
But alas, life's not about the destination, it's about the ride - as Peter Fonda so aptly put it in the 1969 flick "Easy Rider."
Fonda is one cool cat - and those are some super words to live by. Which is totally why I opted to drive 30-plus hours over the five-hour flight.
Okay, not really. Are you nuts? You actually think I'd chose 30-plus hours of staring at pavement and brake lights until my eyes bleed over being waited on by stewardesses with arms full of those tiny little liquor bottles?
Nope. It's more because I couldn't pony up the $700 plane fare ... plus baggage fee, pillow and blanket fee, meal and drink fee and God knows what else they whack you for these days.
I'm a journalist for Pete's sake ... not an employee of the Adirondack Park Agency.
Soooo, I plan to make the best of it, which is where the whole "enjoy the ride" philosophy comes into play. Actually, it is a mindset I have long subscribed to.
Perhaps it has something to do with the deep psychological scars that linger from my childhood, left by my dad's refusing to stop the car for a single bathroom break during the entire 22-hour trip we took to Florida each year.