There was once a great man of Norman descent who helped his foreign friends overthrow Tyranny in the Sandbox. 

He saw himself as a Medieval Knight of Old, and was motivated by the love of a Woman from the East.

His name was Lawrence of Arabia, and reflecting on his life, he wrote these immortal words that would echo on into Eternity: 

“All men dream, but not equally.

“Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds awake in the day to find it was all vanity.

‘But the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dreams with eyes wide open, and make them possible.

“This I did.” 

Since my Mom died four years ago, I’ve been dreaming at night a-plenty.

But when James Lafond called me three weeks ago and invited me to Man Weekend, 2026, I knew that it was time to dream in the day.

This I did. 

SQUARED AWAY 

Things were finally squared away on the homefront.

My Father had successfully opened the office.   

My Brother was married. 

My other Brother possessed a magical Confederate ring. 

My Sister was back on the straight and narrow, and making us all as well as herself proud.

And my youngest Brother needed a hero to look up to.

The danger of suicide and drugs, that Sword of Damocles that had hung over the heads of our house after my Mom’s death, had finally passed. 

My Grandma was happy, as we honored my Grandpa and Mom alike on the one-year anniversary of my Grandpa’s Funeral, Mother’s Day Weekend. 

In the Homeland, the Ancestors had been venerated. 

Now was the time. 

GO-TIME

As I pulled out onto road to embark upon the journey from the icy fringes of this Midwest Frozen North to the rocky crags of Halifax, PA, I began the expedition with a venerable tradition passed on down from my Mom: 

The Road Trip Prayer. 

Upon its completion, I put the brown Chicago trucker hat back on and cocked it high upon my head, my brown widow’s peak curl jauntily hanging out.

Everybody knew on the old Mulch Line that when Richard Barrett cocks his hat back and reveals the curl, it’s go-time. 

And go-time it was. 

A LONG-HAUL 

I was on the road again, soon passing the Michigan-Ohio border due East, and into the grassy flatlands of that state that they say is “The Heart of It All”. 

As bridges criss-crossed low-lying shallow lakes framed by the pluming white smoke of nuclear reactors, I knew I was in for a long-haul.

So I decided to call the fella I knew who was sharing this journey with me:

Dr. Breck. 

UNDER-PROMISE & OVER-DELIVER

Dr. Breck had been driving all day before, much longer than me. 

We were about the same distance away from our destination, and as the bands of concrete ribbon rolled on endlessly before our Scorpio souls, the conversation became a welcome break from the monotony for the both of us.

The wind was rushing in through the cracks in the door of my silver 2002 Toyota Tacoma. 

I had crashed the thing in a T-Bone accident on an ice hill at Thanksgiving, and while the dependable old steel steed still stood in good stead, it sounded like I was flying in an airplane when driving at high speeds on the interstate. 

Above this din, on speaker phone projecting my utterance loudly, I revealed to Dr. Breck:

“In the fights, I think I will be very good in the feet because of GOATA. 

“I know I will be good in the spine because of Rope Flow, though I haven’t done it for a month, focusing as I have on the foundation of GOATA.

“The only thing that’s going to be a problem is the cardio. I know that is gonna be rough.”

Dr. Breck considered this and said: 

“I think you’ll be alright.”

I nodded and a smile began to form at my lips, my gaze narrowing knowingly.

“We will see,” I said. “I like to under-promise and over-deliver.”

I continued:

“At the end of the day, you’ve got to get in there and do it. 

“And if you need a little break…take a little break and come on back!” 

WITHIN WEATHERED WALLS

I refuse to drive on toll roads. The states of Ohio and Pennsylvania don’t need my money. 

And though such a choice added 30 minutes to my 8 hour sojourn, I didn’t care. 

I was going to see the back country of the USA. 

As I drove through the Ohio-Pennsylvania border, farmlands cut out of thick forestry passed, climbing into ever increasingly winding rocky crags covered in green sylvan life growing out of the grey solidity. 

All were punctured by small farm houses and historic barns, the former in the 1950s mold and the latter in the 18th Century mold.

It was a Norman Rockwell painting come to life…save for the dull silver satellite dishes bearing the legend “DIRECT TV” in dark faded block lettering. 

What secrets did these houses and barns hide within their weathered walls? 

Were they good…or were they bad?

And did they have something to do with the messages being beamed within? 

TIME MARCHES ON  

In small towns stood weathered storefronts and churches, signs of once thriving downtowns now bearing the storms of time.

On every other lamppost was an American Flag and Red, White, and Blue ribbons proclaiming “Happy 250 America!”.

Interspersed between the celebratory echoes hung the pictures and names of Warrior Caste American Heroes from different ages…some long past and some not so distant.

I noted with incredulity that this was the first time in my life I was seeing Vietnam, Cold War, and GWOT generation guys on these lamppost placards.

The WWII fellas were still here…but they were beginning to take a backstage.

Time was marching on.

As I pulled into a red light that quickly turned green, I saw out of the corner of my a vibrant mural painted on the side of a brick store front.

Turning my head, my gaze slitted as it came into focus:

An Eagle flying triumphantly before an orange sky. 

LEWIS & CLARK 

As my truck climbed the last leg of the journey through the winding Allegheny Mountains, I called Dr. Breck yet again.

“You know Dr. Breck,” I pondered. “I was thinking about these mountains. This would be a tough one to drive in the winter. 

“You think about these guys coming through here in the Colonial Days from Virginia on the Potomac, guys who had landed in Virginia from England, imagine them coming up here, climbing these mountains and fighting Indians.

“They’d have been amazed at how steep these mountains are.

“And then imagine guys like Lewis and Clark, heading West, passing the flat grasslands of Illinois that I was just passing through two weeks ago, past St. Louis, and West into the Rocky Mountains.

“I went to the Rocky Mountains a few years ago…I hiked them with my brothers, we hiked them about 10 miles.

“And those are real mountains…imagine the Pioneers coming across THOSE? 

“They make these Allegheny Mountains look like trash hills.

“Those were some tough guys.” 

Dr. Breck nodded himself and said: 

“I think about that when I’m driving all the time. And you know what amazes me? This is something that very few people consider as they go about their day.” 

I sighed sadly.

“Indeed Dr. Breck,” came my weary reply. “You’re right about that.” 

SEE THE NEXT INSTALLMENT OF 

RICHARD BARRETT’S 2026 MAN WEEKEND ADVENTURE IN 

DREAMERS OF THE DAY: 

PART II…

COMING SOON! 

Sincerely,

Richard Barrett 

06-03-2026

Written at 8:45 PM, somewhere in the USA…

Sources Cited

Image 1.