In youth I damn near lived on the road, moving almost every year to places progressively more distant and different, and continued in adulthood frequently moving around until hitting the half-century point in life. Then came a period of relieved settlement in one place spanning seventeen years and I felt I had finally arrived at a place I would stay until my death.
Then an incompetent district forest ranger decided to ignore the advice of local people to not be doing any prescribed burning of forestland during the windiest time of year while a multi-year drought dragged on incessantly. An incompetent district forest ranger who later apologized a couple of times in public before going into hiding to avoid facing his victims.
So roaded again against my will I'll probably move around some more, searching for the ideal place to finally stop and stay for the remainder of my days. Where that will be is anyone's guess but I'm in no great rush to find it. And dreaming about the possibilities is fun.