The Traveling Bug

Home for Thanksgiving


Almost to LV

Las Vegas

I’m sitting here, waiting for my tire to be repaired. It’s taking longer than expected, but that’s okay, because it’s free. Tires are only a year old, and haven’t had much wear on them. That’s a mixed blessing. The lack of travel is weighing on me. More than I thought. I’d been apathetic about writing this blog for awhile, because I simply didn’t have anything I felt especially warranted using my relatively scarce free time to say . . . I thought of so many things while I was driving and while I’ve been home.

Sunset from the bridge near home.

I don’t understand exactly why I’m wired this way. It’s like waking up the day after an illness, and feeling that strange lightness and abundance of vigor somehow forgotten was there. Maybe it’s the head cold I’m rocking (I feel like someone stuffed my head inside a church bell and gave it a good bong), but that’s the best metaphor I can come up with right now.

That’s seems overly dramatic, but it’s the truth. I feel more alive when the wheels are turning or my feet are moving. Right now I’m staring at a road up over the mountains I drove when I was younger. It’s not accessible anymore. I’ve been looking at maps, trying to find a back way in.

It’s been nice to be home with my family; it’s been more than six months since the last time I made it back to Las Vegas. The year’s been mild and beautiful, and the garden at my old home is still overgrown and green, all the rose bushes still blooming.

Not bad for December!

The Journey Home

There were a number of times I wanted to stop along the way. I did stop in Kingman for a coffee, and at Burro Creek, just to stretch my legs and wake up for a bit. The whole trip was in a bit of that cold-induced fog where you aren’t quite sure if you’re tired or congested–or if they’ve secretly been the same thing all along. Anyway, now you get how the “Traveling Bug” title was a clever pun. Yeah, I’m funny. You don’t have to tell me.

Odd ripple clouds.


I took the drive slow, and careful, hoping to make it all count. It was a beautiful day. Just enough rain to put the scent of the juniper and creosote into the cool air, clouds enough to make the drive easy on the eyes. This part of the country is rugged, and harsh, and water rare, but it’s at its most beautiful when the rare rains come. Water fills dead rivers and the scent of it fills the air. Hawks, kestrels, and falcons were all out, in fine form, after the thirsty little creatures of the ground.

Burro creek, on the Old 93 bridge.



I’m back in Phoenix. New tire. It’s a rainy day, which is exactly the sort I like. Today marks a full year of dating my current girlfriend . . . first time I’ve ever reached that mark. I’m almost over my cold, but I’ve passed it on to Lauren (happy anniversary!), so she’s on the downhill as I’m finally climbing out. With any luck, the Kleenex will last.

The storm today is sort of strange. A series of concentric rings. I’ve never seen anything quite exactly like it before.

Concentric ring winter storm.

On the Bounce

Life’s interesting right now. The reason the repair to my tires was free was that there was so little wear on them. I sort of hate the idea that my tires don’t have much tread wear after an entire year. I feel sedentary, and I can’t say I like it. On the other hand, my life is pretty good on the balance–certainly I have plenty to be thankful for.


About Connor Rickett

My name is Connor Rickett. I started out in the sciences, but left grad school to follow a dream of writing and traveling. Since then I have done a fair bit of both, visiting forty-five states and several provinces, and making a living (more or less) as a freelancer and ghostwriter. Feel free to swing by my business site,

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