There’s something about a road dawg I just can’t resist.  You know, those men who spend their lives on the road, never to tarry long in one place . . . the ones that have no problem packing their possessions in a single bag and going.  I’m instinctually attracted to them.  Put five men in a room, only one a vagabond . . . don’t tell me a thing about any of them . . . stack the deck against me anyway you want . . . I will inevitably be drawn like a shot to the road dawg.

 

These men fascinate me.  Their journeys and adventures so vastly different from those I have had in this life.  Still somehow, I relate to them on a mystical level.  I feel their souls . . . their wanderlust not unknown to me.  I can’t explain it.  I understand it spiritually.  It could be I was a gypsy . . . a traveling minstrel . . . a nomad in past incarnations.  I too feel the allure, the hunger, the urge, the call of the road. 

 

Though each of them wildly different from one another, still there is a sameness about them.  Perhaps its those very traits which permit the survival of a transient existence that so entice me.  Each so charismatic he can captivate your heart and soul without thought or effort.  Always resourceful and self-reliant so as when they do choose you as companion it is genuinely from desire, not neediness.

 

Their auras shine with such a power, a force, a strength . . . it is overwhelming at times, but always rousing and energizing.  What is it about the road that makes a man so spiritual, so insightful?  Is it they have reflected more deeply on life than those of a more sedimentary nature?  Or has the diversity of experience their travels afford taught them sooner that which we all seek in one way or another?

 

You can’t change them, these wanderers.  I wouldn’t want to try.  To change them . . . to chain them would be like breaking a wild stallion . . . the hobbling of a free spirit, the destruction of an elemental majesty.  It is never long before you see that far away look in their eyes.  The siren song of the road becomes almost audible in their presence.  No matter what charms you may possess or magic you might cast over them, they will always have another mistress before you . . . their beloved road.

 

 

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