Maria and I love to take rides on a day like this, even if we don’t know where we are going. I lean too much on the GPS, but sometimes, we just head off down some country roads and wing it.

When I see something, I want to photograph, or she wants to sketch, I stop the car. I get out and take the photo; she does a sketch. We never seem to get lost; without the GPS as a crutch, we actually figure out where we are and where we want to go.

I used to ride around and take photos all the time, but somehow I got out of the habit; I can’t really say why. Maria and I are much busier than we were ten years ago, perhaps more driven; we don’t make as much time for this as we loved to do and used to do.

Today, we swore to remedy that. We had a long time about being too busy and distracted to do what we love and what lifts our hearts.

I turned off the GPS, and we winged it, and it turned out we knew exactly where we were and how to get home.

Sometimes, you can get too busy for your own good and forget who you are and what you care about. The soul needs that. It’s great for us and our relationship, great for our creativity.

Some of my most creative times have come when I set out quietly to do nothing.

When I thought about it, I couldn’t figure out why I stopped riding around and taking photos of the world we are losing and leaving behind.

I’ve always loved that, and so have a lot of my readers. I think the surgeries interrupted my rhythms. Also,  I might have gotten wary of cruising around too freely.

“We just aren’t that important,”  I told Maria. “We can make time for life.” She agreed.

I  missed that and loved our ride today. I saw this old RV stuffed in the brush next to an old farmhouse not too far from our farm. I knew it was a photo for me; I love the old farm and rural life images.

When I look at this RV, I  imagine all the great times this family had hooking up to it and heading out on vacation or to a National Park.

I think of them camping, talking to strangers, eating at strange restaurants, fighting, and singing together.

The old RV looked lonely and forgotten. One day somebody will haul it away for scrap, taking all those memories with it. We are a cruel country in that way; we are so quick to abandon what we have for what we are told we want.

I used to do a photo series called “Left Behind,” which I thought of when I saw this old joy wagon. I love surprising myself with photos like this, and I’m going to pick up the habit again. Maria loves it too.

These little treks inspire us, rejuvenate us. People who are too busy to stop and think will surely end up as the Hollow People T.S. Eliot write about.

I won’t forget my photo rides again.