Experiencing life as a nomad behind the wheel of a 1971 Plymouth Cuda.
Freedom is riding wild over untamed land with no notion any moment exists beyond the one you are living. (1883)
Music & muscle cars, baby!
Welcome to my little corner of the online world where I’m openly sharing my journey. These stories are humorous and serious, deep and shallow, informative and sometimes just plain fun—they’re a documentation of all that I am and a reflection of all that life is.
Hop in the Cuda, and let’s see what trouble we can get into!
PEOPLE OFTEN ASK...
Why the muscle car?
My fascination with cars began around the time I learned to walk. That was also when my love of hanging out in garages started too. Ah, the smell of must mixed with oil and fuel.
I don’t remember this, but the story goes, my dad’s friends were impressed that as a two-year-old, I knew the difference between a Phillips and flathead screwdriver and would hand each to my dad as needed.
I loved helping my dad work on his cars. I’d always ask way too many questions and one summer spent hours wet sanding his 1972 Pontiac Grandview as a tween.
When I pulled into the driveway after buying my first car at sixteen, my dad said, “You’re going to learn how to change a tire right now.” He said he wanted to make sure I could take care of myself out on the road.
In my early 20s, I owned a Plymouth Turismo, and there was always something going wrong with that damn car. My dad would explain his troubleshooting process, tell me what parts to buy, and we’d fix the issue together. Everything I know about cars, I learned from my dad.
Have you always been adventurous?
Yep. In mind, body, and spirit. I’m a curious person who loves to learn through experience.
I read a lot, meditate, and work with a high-level spiritual Teacher and business mentor.
After my doctors couldn’t help with chronic migraines, fatigue, and adrenal gland failure, I did my own research and healed my body through clean eating and supplements.
I run every morning, walk every evening, and do yoga several times per week. I’m on a quest to age gracefully—to be strong and flexible as long as I live.
Travel. I mean, looking at photographs of people and places while listening to or reading about someone else’s lived adventure is great (and very inspiring). Still, nothing can replace boots-on-the-ground in a far-away place, where you don’t know anyone, can’t speak the language, and all-senses-are-alive feeling.
Do you miss having a home base?
Not at the moment.
I was introduced to the nomadic lifestyle in my mid-20s when I moved from Wisconsin to Colorado and met people living it. I felt the yearning then, but instead took a hard right, moved back to Wisconsin, got married, and focused on my career—I allowed society’s voice to be louder than my own.
After lovingly stepping away from the suburban life last year, I decided to fulfill that long-held burning desire and live each day as if it were my last.
My voice is louder than anyone else’s now.
And…I AM home. Home is wherever I AM.
I feel a sense of freedom as I slide into the stiff leather driver seat—now an off-white color showing its age—of my 1971 Plymouth Cuda, a.k.a. Plum Crazy. 1971. A year I lived through but don’t remember; I was still in diapers. Joy to the World by Three Dog Night
John was helping his friend, Linda, across the street with her rummage sale when he saw Plum Crazy. Being the car guy that he is, he walked over, knocked on my door, and asked to take a closer look. “You don’t see many of these anymore,” he said while gazing
While soaking in a row of bathtubs with my friends Josh and Liz at Mystic Hot Springs in Monroe, UT, on top of a hill, under the night sky glistening with stars (you can read about that here), Josh asked, “What are you most surprised in learning about yourself while on