I suspect that I may not ever have been spontaneous. I've done the all-of-a-sudden turn onto an unfamiliar road to see what's there and where it takes me. I've walked into a salon on a whim and got my hair cut or permed. I've suddenly decided to go somewhere, generally never far.
But never ever have I been truly spontaneous. Don't ask me what that is? I don't know because I haven't done it.
When I was a teenager I thought about running away. Mainly, I contemplated what to stuff into my knapsack. Should I bring a change of clothing? Change of underwear at least. My notebook, of course. Should I bring a pencil and a pen? Two pens, maybe several. Food to get me to my next destination. Money, which would probably be $20, if even that. Do I want by guitar? What I never thought about was where to go. I didn't want to run away, did I?
Today, the Husband and I are in Oakland hanging out with his college buddies. (Yesterday was when I wrote this.) Will we have taken BART, the Bay Area Rapid Transit, or driven all the way?
It's about a two-hour trip. Nothing of a drive, if only a few cars on the freeway. We would still need to drive an hour to a BART station, but the second hour would be sitting comfortably, so I think, on the train rather than cursing drivers around us. Cost-wise, it would be cheaper to park in a garage in Oakland than to pay the BART parking lot fee and two round-trip tickets. The air quality is horrible because of the fires, so driving as little as possible would be a good thing.
Yesterday afternoon, I didn't know which would be the best way to get up to Oakland. Neither did The Husband. All we decided was that we want a full tank of gas and the correct bill denominations so we can easily and quickly feed BART machines with money.
How to go? We decided today. That I suppose is being spontaneous. Kind of.