Michael D. Davis.

I have never in my life thought about leaving Toledo. I was raised here, and I’ll die here, just hopefully not today.

I have friends that have traveled from coast to coast, one friend that just went to Florence, I know a woman who just visited Italy, and I know people that annually travel to Canada. Meanwhile, I’ve been here, and I’m not complaining. Wanderlust seems to be something that fills nearly every soul but mine.

As much as I’d like to see Michelangelo’s David or The World’s Largest Toilet, I find neither to be a reason to get in a car, on an airplane, or in a train. I would rather fight naked a rabies-infected Tasmanian devil than spend a week with my family in a car traveling across the United States. And I’m sure the feelings are mutual.

So far in my life, I have only been out of the state twice, and both times for funerals. The first trip I can’t remember too much of as I was young, but we went to Minnesota to be with the bereaved. The second trip was about 10 years ago, and the funeral was on the southern border of Iowa. The funeral itself is a story that I won’t get into at this moment, but it involves a shorts wearing preacher, a glass shattering vocalist, and an ill timed bathroom visit.

During the trip to the funeral on the southern border, we came to a point where we needed gas in the car. Since I’d never been, we took a 10 minute trip south and filled the tank in Missouri. At the gas station, I got out of the car, walked around a bit, blew my nose, and all in all, spent about six and a half minutes in the state.

My parents this past weekend celebrated their 40th wedding anniversary, and 40 years ago they traveled on their honeymoon. In a 1970s blue VW Bug, they drove all the way to Arkansas — which is, as you know, one of the hottest honeymoon destination spots, Paris, Niagara Falls… Arkansas. The traveling was made better by the fact that the VW Bug was missing a shock and had an incessant squeak before it just broke down completely. It is stories like that that make me think my opinion on traveling isn’t so crazy.

Also, in this day and age, who needs to travel? I have friends that live in New York, New Jersey, Canada, and Wales, all of whom I keep in contact with via this amazing 21st century invention called the Internet. And, of course, good ol’ snail mail, as I am a throwback fan of writing letters that get sent with a stamp instead of the click of a button.

I guess I’m just different this way, which is fine with me. For two years after high school, I barely left the house, and that suited me just fine. If Murph’s ever starts delivering, I think I’ll have no reason to go outside.

So, as you all travel this summer, going to the Bermuda Triangle or going to see the world’s biggest ball of twine, I’ll sit right here, watching the neighborhood. Well, unless, God forbid, another out-of-state family member croaks, then I’m screwed.