Classic Kenworth diesel truck
When I was a young man, I began searching for the meaning of life. Along the way, I wrote a travel journal, a mix of prose and poetry, and labelled it Fool’s Odyssey.
My life of happy materialism had dematerialized, and my life of decadent sensualism had made no sense. So now I was a spiritual vagrant, which made even less sense. I’d started by looking for meaning, but what did meaning even mean, and where would I find it? I hadn’t found it in London or Paris. Still, vagrance had a bad fragrance.
So I located a truck stop, stuck out my thumb, and found someone to share all the fun I wasn’t having. It was a truck driver-philosopher named Phillipe who spoke pretty-good English.
“You go where?” said Phillipe.
“Someplace not here,” said I.
“Bon, that is just where I go,” replied Phillipe.
So I climbed aboard. I shared my chewy nougat candy with him, and he bought me espressos to keep me awake all night, so he’d have someone to talk to on the long haul to Lyons. But I slept anyway. Although I did twitch a lot. Small compensation for someone who wants to talk, I suppose.
The next morning, we ate breakfast at a diesel stop, and discussed our freshly-forged ancient philosophies.
“Expérience! This is only thing that is real,” said Phillipe, “and nothing is real until we expérience it.”
So I asked him what it was like being in the womb.
“Oh-ho, I cannot remember,” said Phillipe, “but I am sure it was quite an expérience.” There are many things, he insisted, that we experience and then forget. Nevertheless, they exist now and are real only because we were once there to expérience them.
So I asked him what it was like when he was conceived.
Phillipe laughed and said, “How should I know? I wasn’t there.” Then he thought about what I’d said and grew très irrité.
It was quite an expérience.
I’ve always felt bad about arguing with people I don’t really know—and yet I do it. Still, Phillipe and I departed under détente. I think.
I lied when I said I had no destination. There was this pretty girl I’d met who was from Barcelona and, well, I was twenty-something, so there was always “this pretty girl” from somewhere. Still, mostly I went there because…
It was someplace not here.
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Mitch Teemley 
Pingback: My Life as a Spiritual Vagrant | Mitch Teemley
Reminds me: I just added a translator to my website so the mayor of a French town can read it, since he takes school children to visit a young uncle’s grave nearby. He was KIA during WWII.
Enjoy the way you sprinkled French through his vignette.
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That is so cool, Joy. I should probably do that too, since I have a lot of ESL readers. Thanks!
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Hmmm. “Then he thought about what I’d said and grew très irrité.” I wonder if there’s a bit of cultural differences here between English speaking people and French speaking people. LOL.
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;>) I used a translator to turn “very irritated” in “très irrité.” Hope I got it right, Haoyando. (Is that what you like to be called, btw?)
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Yes, call me Haoyan or Haoyan Do, either is fine. LOL.
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I loved this small snippet from your travels. Thank you for sharing.
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♤ What ARE YOU!!! Doing 🤔 ? Here
♤ Where ARE YOU!!! 🤔 ? Here
♤ When is It!!! 🤔 ? Here
…in a word; it’s EXPERIENCE!!!…
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Ahhhhhh, “Somewhere, not here!” Thank you again Mitch. Your posts always make me stop and think… As an emptynester, this is more in focus now. My hubby and I raised 6 kiddos and loved every minute of it, but “somewhere, not here!” has more meaning to us now. Movement causes adjustment and adjusting to new surroundings will be interesting one day. Hope you got the girl 😀 Blessings and honor, Christine C Sponsler
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Not that girl. But I did get THE girl. Thanks, Christine.
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NICE!!!
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Pingback: New Word #21: Learned Recently – Haoyan Do
I enjoyed reading about your encounter with Phillipe. Took me back to my childhood with people of French-Canadian extraction.
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Life is such an adventure. Amazing story!
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Thanks, Nancy.
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Great story! Long-distance Drivers are some of the best philosophers (better if they are drunk). I think “somewhere not here” is the best possible destination–it leaves so many options open 😁
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Enjoyed the ride and your story. Très beau! ❤
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I wish leaving is as simple as walking from the bedroom to the kitchen…
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