The Road Connects

We are traveling west.

Not the fastest way. Not the most direct way.
But along a road that has carried people, stories, and questions for nearly a century.

We are towing a small 1960s camper.
On top of the truck is a hand-built sphere — ribs, twine, and woven hay — made by my husband, Michael Shaughnessy, a sculptor. It is tied down securely, but allowed to move slightly in the wind, as if it might come loose. It won’t. But it might.

We are also traveling with our three-legged dog, who has already proven to be the most adaptable among us.

This journey begins in Maine and follows smaller highways west to Missouri, where we join Route 66 — the Mother Road — during its 100-year anniversary. From there, we continue across Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona, eventually arriving in California.

The sculpture is not just cargo.
The movement is not just transportation.

The act of traveling — the conversations at gas stations, the glances from passing cars, the quiet miles of two-lane road — is part of the work.

This blog is a record of those moments.

Not a guide. Not a highlight reel.
But field notes.

Small observations.
Encounters.
Fragments of landscape and conversation.
Things that might otherwise pass unnoticed.

We don’t fully know what this is yet.

But we are paying attention.