A Year on the Road: My 2025 Travels

2025 was a year on the move. A lot of miles. Many towns. Short stays. Long drives. Memories now tied more to highways than calendars.

Winter began quietly in Baytown, Texas, a suburb east of Houston. January to mid-February passed there. Familiar roads. Routine days. A calm base before the year opened up.

By mid-February, I flew to Dharwad, my hometown in India. One full month. Family. Old neighborhoods. Familiar food. Time slowed down in the best way.

I returned to the US at the end of March. From that point on, the road took over.

Each of the following stops was about one week long.

Long Beach, Mississippi came first. A small Gulf Coast town. Quiet beaches. Empty stretches of sand. Laid-back and understated.

Next was Enterprise, Alabama. A farming town known for its Boll Weevil Monument. Deep agricultural roots. Slow Southern pace.

Then Kissimmee, Florida. Tourist heavy. Close to Disney. Busy roads. Constant movement.

Naples, Florida followed. Clean and polished. Calm beaches. Affluent and orderly.

Dania Beach, Florida came next. Close to Fort Lauderdale but quieter. Easy beach access. A mix of old Florida and cruise-port energy.

Homestead, Florida followed. Gateway to the Everglades and Biscayne National Park. Flat land. Farming country. Heat and wide skies.

Cape Coral, Florida came next. A town built around canals. Water everywhere. Boats instead of sidewalks.

Jacksonville, Florida followed. A large, spread-out city. Wide river. Long bridges. Felt like several towns stitched together.

Then came Allenhurst, Georgia. Small coastal town. Quiet streets. Close to military bases. Calm and residential.

Lake City, South Carolina followed. A modest Southern town. Rail lines. Old brick buildings. Slow evenings.

Bryson City, North Carolina came next. Mountains all around. Cooler air. Gateway to the Smoky Mountains. One of the most peaceful stops of the year.

Rustburg, Virginia followed. Rural and green. Rolling land. Classic Virginia countryside.

Viper, Kentucky came next. Deep Appalachian country. Narrow roads. Steep hills. Very quiet.

Kimbolton, Ohio followed. A tiny village surrounded by farmland. Open skies. Minimal traffic. Pure rural Midwest.

Milton, Pennsylvania came next. A river town near the Susquehanna. Old houses. Calm pace.

Deal Island, Maryland followed. A remote fishing community. Surrounded by water. Felt like the edge of civilization.

New Castle, Delaware came next. Colonial history everywhere. Cobblestone streets. Small but historically dense.

Hainesport, New Jersey followed. Quiet suburb. Pine Barrens nearby. A gentle pause before New England.

Newtown, Connecticut came next. Classic New England feel. Colonial homes. Trees. Orderly and calm.

Newark, Vermont followed. Rural and scenic. Green mountains. Cool evenings. Very quiet.

Derry, New Hampshire came next. Lakes and forests. Small-town energy. Comfortable and livable.

Blue Hill, Maine followed. Coastal Maine at its best. Harbors. Cold water. Thoughtful slow days.

Woonsocket, Rhode Island came next. An old mill town. Industrial history. Compact and dense.

After that long stretch, I spent more than a week with family in Clinton, Massachusetts. A classic New England town. Hills. Quiet neighborhoods. Familiar faces. It felt like a reset.

By the end of September, I flew again to Dharwad, India. End of September to end of October. Another full month. Family time. Festivals. Familiar rhythms.

Back to Clinton, Massachusetts for almost two weeks after returning to the US.

Then came the snowbird drive south. About 2,000 miles over a week.

The first night stop was Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. A river city and state capital. Brief halt.

Next came Johnson City, Tennessee for four days. Appalachian foothills. College town energy. One of the most pleasant breaks on the drive.

Then three long driving days south. Overnight halts in Birmingham, Alabama and Slidell, Louisiana. Finally reached the Houston area.

I spent about three weeks in the Houston region handling yearly chores and errands.

One week each in three familiar Texas towns in the Houston area.

Bacliff, Texas. A small coastal town near Galveston Bay. Fishing boats. Quiet roads. Relaxed bay life.

Texas City, Texas followed. Industrial port town. Refineries and shipping yards. Functional and working-class.

Baytown, Texas came next. A large suburb shaped by energy industries. Familiar territory. Easy rhythms.

After that, I drove further south.

Two weeks in Edinburg, Texas. Deep South Texas. Border culture. Warm winters. Distinct identity.

One week in La Feria, Texas followed. Small agricultural town. Quiet streets. Simple living.

For the final trip of the year, I drove north again within Texas. Ended 2025 in Jarrell, Texas near Austin. A small town. Open land. A quiet place to welcome 2026.

Total distance traveled in 2025 was roughly 15,000 miles. All stays were in Airbnbs and hotels.

When I became a full-time digital nomad in 2022, the first goal was to set foot in all 48 continental US states. That was completed in 2023.

The next goal was bigger. To spend at least one full week in each of the 48 continental states. This 2025 journey completed that goal. When I began the year, there were still 10 states where I had not yet spent a week. All of them were covered during this trip.

Only Alaska and Hawaii remain. They will be explored someday too.

A long year. A full year. And one defined by roads.

 

 

Doing Nothing Is a Superpower

Steven Magee said, “The person that looks like they are doing nothing is often the smartest!” At first glance, it sounds lazy. But look closer. It’s wisdom.

We live in a world obsessed with doing. Meetings, messages, tasks, hustle. We’ve become human doings instead of human beings. Always moving. Always thinking. Never still.

But real clarity comes in stillness. The smartest people often appear to be doing nothing because they’re pausing. Reflecting. Observing. Letting their mind breathe.

Doing nothing is not waste. It’s recovery. It’s recalibration. It’s the mind stepping back to see the full picture.

Try it. Stop. Be quiet. Not just physically, but mentally. Let the thoughts settle. Let the pressure go. Just be. If you struggle, go sit by the sea. Watch the waves. Don’t label. Don’t judge. Just observe.

Nature is the best company when you’re learning how to be. Trees don’t talk. The sea doesn’t interrupt. Wind doesn’t expect. But they remind you what calm looks like.

No one is asking you to abandon your responsibilities. But if you never pause, you’ll burn out. Slow down. Doing nothing for a while is not laziness—it’s intelligence. It gives your mind space to think clearly, feel deeply, and act wisely.

So next time you see someone sitting quietly, not scrolling, not typing, not talking—don’t assume they’re wasting time. They might be doing the most important thing of all.

They’re returning to being.

Try it. You’ll be surprised how much your mind reveals when it finally gets quiet.

Rediscover Wonder. Start with the Basics.

“Life without any wonder left in it is flat and stale.” — David Eddings

If life feels dull, it’s not because the world is boring. It’s because we’ve stopped noticing.

Wonder isn’t locked in exotic places or genius-level insights. It’s in the basics—right in front of you. The sea. The stars. Your own breath. But we take these for granted. We never stop to ask why.

Why are there waves in the ocean but not in rivers? How do eclipses happen, and how are they different from new moon nights? Why does the earth rotate at all?

You don’t need a PhD to explore these. Just curiosity. If you can’t explain them clearly to a five-year-old, maybe you haven’t really understood them yourself.

Despite our degrees and jobs and gadgets, most of us have skipped over the deep basics. We’ve filled our heads with data but left out awe. And that’s a loss. Because nothing lifts the human spirit like real understanding.

Start now. Pick one question a day. Look it up. Think deeply. Pore over it until it clicks. You don’t need to “do” anything. Just let your mind stretch. One new wonder a day, and life begins to bloom again.

Nature is waiting. The universe is waiting. Your own body is a miracle of systems. Look. Learn. Feel the thrill of truly seeing something for the first time.

Wonder is not childish. It’s vital. It keeps you alive inside.

Don’t settle for a flat life. Add depth. Add wonder. Start today. Just one question. And follow it wherever it leads.

When Giving Up Is the Smartest Move

“Giving up is always an option, but not always a failure.” — Cameron Conaway

We’re told to never quit. To grind it out. To push through no matter what. But that’s not always wise. Sometimes, quitting is exactly what you need.

Not all paths are right for you. You may have chosen something based on pressure, ego, or a guess. Maybe it looked good on paper. Maybe it once mattered. But now, it drains you. It fights your nature. It gives nothing back.

Sticking to it just because you started? That’s not strength. That’s stubbornness.

Fail fast, forward. That’s the smarter mindset. If something isn’t working—despite effort, reflection, and time—step back. Ask yourself: Is this really me? Or am I just afraid to let go?

Giving up doesn’t mean giving in. It means redirecting your energy. It means choosing something better suited to who you are. It means betting on yourself in a new way.

This isn’t about quitting at the first struggle. Every worthwhile path has hard days. But there’s a difference between hard and wrong. Learn to know the difference.

Pivoting is not failure. It’s intelligence. It’s self-respect. It’s how you move closer to your real strengths, real purpose, and real joy.

So yes—giving up is always an option. And sometimes, it’s the best one. Use it wisely. Use it boldly. And move on with clarity and power.

Your Mind Is Your Weapon. Train It.

Your mind will serve you better than any tool, gadget, or trick. It’s the sharpest weapon you’ll ever own. But like any weapon, it needs training. Otherwise, it’s just dead weight.

Too many people spend their lives collecting things. Devices. Degrees. Data. But none of it works if the mind behind it is weak. A dull mind panics under stress. It fumbles under pressure. It gets distracted, overwhelmed, and led astray.

Training the mind is not a one-time job. It’s a practice. Like fitness. Like music. It needs daily reps.

Start small. Read a tough book. Solve a hard problem. Reflect honestly on your actions. Learn to sit still and think. These things feel slow. But they build something strong.

You don’t need to know everything. You need to be able to think clearly. See patterns. Focus. Question. Decide. That’s what a trained mind does.

And don’t just feed your mind. Sharpen it. Challenge it. Don’t chase trivia or noise. Go for depth. Read fewer articles. Read more books. Don’t scroll endlessly. Sit with silence. Let your thoughts breathe.

A sharp mind gives you power. In work. In conflict. In life. It helps you stay calm when others lose their heads. It helps you move forward when others freeze. It helps you speak sense when others talk noise.

If you want freedom, if you want impact, if you want peace—train your mind.

You already have the best weapon. Use it. Wield it well.