I’ve been to most big cities. Name them: New York, Vegas, London, Kuala Lumpur, Delhi, Calcutta, Shangai, Beijing, Paris, Moscow, Marrakesh, Singapore, Dubai, Tokyo,… I’ve been in the world’s most plushy hotels, and spent on multiple occasions more on breakfast than on my very first car.
I’ve flown over the Hecla in a helicopter, saw the sun go up from a hot air balloon over the Grand Canyon, saw the Aurora Borealis in Spitsbergen, and I’ve been on top of the Atlas Mountains at sun set. I saw cheetahs dining, elephants fighting, dolphins playing, snakes digesting.
And each time my wheels grind the stony curvy roads of Trouville-la-Haule, a minuscule little village in the darkest part of Normandy, my heart feels at peace.
One day, this old buccaneer will drop his anchor somewhere in the midst of this stately apple trees. I’ll own a cat, drink homemade cider and play petanque.