Can I write mine? 3 years, unknown miles (the speedomiter kept breaking on my Harley, 42 States (some twice)
Lived under a bridge in Mississippi while I worked in a saw mill for a week.
Met 3 daughters who were the most beautiful I had ever seen, but were unfortunately 17 and camping with the father, a minister. Had an unknown benefactor buy me breakfast in Colorado. Saw a local sheriff of a small town in Iowa who looked at my motorcycle and said one sentence; "Yup. That otta get you out of town." Note, I had long hair and whiskers, and a feeling I should listen and not open my mouth.
Think back to "Then Came Bronson" (TV movie and series). I took a leave of absense from my NY computer programming, but I had no obligations or responsibities at age 27.
I liked the County roads, vs the Interstates, and once ate at a 6 stool restaurant. Doesn't cost anything to throw a sleeping bag on a picnic table. Except outside Washington DC on a rest area where the cop (?) saw me on the ground next to my motorcycle. "Can't do what you're doing. State Property". You know, you can actually sleep laying on a motorcycle to comply with the law.
And then there was the two lane highway in the dessert of California where there was a tractor-trailer in each lane coming my way with maybe a 3 foot shoulder. I'm lucky I'm alive and not a hood ordiment at 120 MPH. (60x2)