But you don't want a truck!

When I started the trip to the north on foot, I was young, strong-willed, and excited. I saw others in cars and trucks racing past me as I walked on the side-walk. I knew I would have to walk for a very long time before I get to a point where I can have my own wheels for the trip. That made me more determined and I had a spring in my stride. I was told that if I continued walking with the same determination and cheerfulness, I could get my wheels pretty soon. I was encouraged. I even motivated others on the side-walk that were walking at a slower pace than I was. There were some others that were so tired of the walk that they were considering getting off at the next exit and pursuing other paths with better chance of finding their wheels for their trip to the north.

At the first check point on my path, I was well on course, on par with the previous walkers that are now riding their wheels. I knew my own wheels were not too far away. Right then, there was a pleasant change to my walking routine where I had to add an extra weight to my backpack. My pace came down considerably initially but that was OK. It was weight I wanted to carry, and did so willingly, for I cherished the company of that extra weight.

Meanwhile, some of the others I started my walk with passed me on the side walk. Their pace significantly better than mine, for they did not have the extra backpack weight to haul. Just as I was giving my best in catching up with them, extra weight and all, they made it to the second check point and qualified for their own set of wheels! I was happy for them. I also knew I would get mine too, just a little later than the others due to my sweet backpack's extra but lovely weight.

Years passed. Checkpoints came and went. My wheels never were granted. I walked far enough along that there were just no more checkpoints for walkers. I soon realized that I was on a perpetual walking path with no possibility of upgrading to wheels. At the next checkpoint meant only for the cars and trucks, I asked the question of when I would get my own wheels. I was in turn asked if I wanted a car or a truck. This encouraged me! Wheels! Car please, I said. I see myself more as a car person. Trucks are nice and all but they are just not me. The check point folks wrote it down. "She Wants Cars. No Trucks."

I was motivated again and continued my walk on the sidewalk. I was back to my original pace, got completely used to my backpack now. I started adding variety to my routine. Did some work on the side, helped and inspired a few folks around, but never stopped my walk. I got so good at this endeavor that I knew I was one of the most efficient walkers. Younger walkers came to me for advice. Those on other paths constantly wondered how I was able to do it all and still continue walking!

A few more years passed. It was made clear that there were no more cars for the taking. I was told that I don't come across as a good car driver, my extra heavy backpack apparently gives those negative vibes about my driving. I was disappointed but knew at least that there would be a truck for me at some point, to get me off this sidewalk and on to my north faster. When a few more years went by without any truck in sight for me and I was already at half way point to the north, I knocked on the check point's door again. Asked for the status of my truck. "But you don't want a truck!" was the reply.

"You wanted a car but there were none left that we think you are capable of driving. There are a few trucks but you did not want them. So we figured you just really wanted to walk the rest of your path to north"

What are my choices? Do I take the nearest exit and find a different path that can offer me my wheels to the north? But I am so used to this walk now, what if the new path makes the walk painful? Do I fight for a truck on this current path? But I nearly forgot how to drive. If I get one and I mess up since it is a truck that I am not most comfortable with, won't I be screwed and even my solid walking jeopardized?! Or do I wait for that miraculous customized car that might come looking for me at some point before I reach north? Doesn't that just make me a daydreamer?