I grew up on the road in a less-than-one room house. My world, however, was not the 26' fiberglass 1974 GMC motor home with lime green interior and an 8 track. My world was whatever greeted my eyes from the other side of the windshield. I have in my mental filing cabinet a host of sights, sounds, and smells that conjure up images and stories that are, for me, an attic full of treasures. Having no attic to store collected 'stuff' in I only have my mind and have found that to be sufficient. When I would wake up and feel the chigger bites on my legs (the only bug unhindered by the screen) and taste salt on my lips, I knew we were in Florida. When I smell 'OFF' I am suddenly back a t Strawberry Lake in the woods of northern Minnesota. When the smell of sweating cattle hits me, I recall the dairy farms of Wisconsin, The past is more fond to me now than it was when it was the present. The future is an untraveled road that always looks like a long but exciting climb. But the present is where I live or at least where I eat and sleep. There's a line that every parent of an elder teen knows. "You just eat and sleep here." A kid gets restless with the present and fights its confines and truth be told we never grow out of that.