Logan walked down the road, trying to stay in the shade the trees provided. People often romanticized the life of a vagabond. Idiots. None of them really understood what it meant to live a huge chunk of your life on the road. The unclean conditions, the uncertainty of where you would find yourself next, being at the mercy of the weather. To be honest, it downright sucked. And Logan really just wanted a place to settle down for once.
He'd been at this for five years now, crossing the country in random directions, making random stops, and going wherever the four winds may carry him. He wasn't even sure what state he was in right now. He thought it might be Ohio. Possibly Michigan. No matter what the geography looked like, the towns were always the same. About the only variation was the name of the place and the accent of the locals.
Logan pulled out the tape recorder from his over-stuffed pack as he heard the approach of a car behind him. "Journal entry number 3 on September 7th, 2005. I hear the sound of another car coming by. Let's see if I can't hitch a ride this time."
He turned and stuck his thumb out, hoping for the best as he tilted his wide-brimmed hat to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun.
He'd been at this for five years now, crossing the country in random directions, making random stops, and going wherever the four winds may carry him. He wasn't even sure what state he was in right now. He thought it might be Ohio. Possibly Michigan. No matter what the geography looked like, the towns were always the same. About the only variation was the name of the place and the accent of the locals.
Logan pulled out the tape recorder from his over-stuffed pack as he heard the approach of a car behind him. "Journal entry number 3 on September 7th, 2005. I hear the sound of another car coming by. Let's see if I can't hitch a ride this time."
He turned and stuck his thumb out, hoping for the best as he tilted his wide-brimmed hat to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun.