There's a stretch of highway spanning the length of Kansas, an endless ribbon draped over uninteresting scenery for much of the trip. I'm convinced the Autopilot program on new Tesla cars would be perfect for this span of road. Just set cruise control and glide effortlessly across the expanse of Kansas most people use to judge Kansas by.

I've driven Interstate 70 innumerable times over the past few years, and every time it turns into a period of over-thinking and analyzing of what's happened in my life, why certain things turned out the way they did, or where I could take it next. In essence, I become a passenger to my wild brain as my internal autopilot takes me home with nary a blink as I pass town after town.

On the most recent trip, dusk enveloped the world around me as I plunged through the blustery hills of early-autumnal Kansas. That's when my thoughts turned most turbulent. I started thinking about how things have gone over the past few years -- from leaving school and living with parents to getting Good Job #1, and now settling into Good Job #2 and indulging in some hobbies. I was at once calmed and worried by how things were going.

There's always room for improvement. I can always eat healthier, drink less, exercise more, better practice the preachings of being a good person and not ignore those who need my help. If anything, I always end up analyzing my flaws during the five hours it takes to cross the state, and it always happens in stages.

In this case, I was returning from a brief vacation to Colorado. So tack on another two hours of driving and a certain melancholy one gets when they have to leave great friends and return to daily life away from the Rockies, and that's the recipe for an existential hell I'm pretty familiar with.

So, my mind wanders. It takes more sharp corners than the highway ever does. The flaws are brought to the surface, they're explored, and then I try to form some kind of conclusion before I need to exit at Topeka and unpack. A couple of times, the conclusion was a statement like "stop mentally boxing yourself in." That's a bad habit I get into where my daydreams become really specific, and I start forming Plan Bs and Cs and Ds. It's a thing I've been working on not doing. Most of the time it's a version of "don't worry, you'll turn out fine" or "everyone is a work in progress."

This time, it was "don't be afraid."

The future is scary and uncertain and daunting. But there are always clues to how good it can be. If you just take a moment to observe what's happening around you, you'll see some of those clues clear as crystal.

I've had a lot of clues lately, some of them blatantly obvious. Those have occurred alongside clues of how I can improve myself. One thing I've learned is to take others' compliments and criticisms equally. When people genuinely tell me I'm good at something, I need to listen just as intently as when they tell me I'm not. I think a lot of folks could benefit from simply listening to other people when they have compliments and critiques to share.

Back to the mental boxing-in. I've been bad about doing that lately; the daydreams become specific plans and I start imagining ways to accomplish those plans. I think that stems from a fear of not knowing what's coming ahead; the road is fogged over and your headlights aren't bright enough to pierce through. You start to panic over where the road is going, and cause yourself to crash -- or you just stop in the middle of the road.

I don't recommend doing either of those.

I recommend driving on. Forward, through the fog.

Because what's not clear to you right now, will become clearer as time goes on. As your physical and mental vehicles carry you along, the road becomes straighter, the curves less sharp and the speed gradually decreases.

You'll know when you've reached your destination, and that's a lovely feeling.

The key, I guess, it to learn how to appreciate the journey for what it is. It's a chance to learn more about yourself, to maybe set goals, or just enjoy where you're at in that moment.

Don't be afraid of enjoying the moment, and don't be afraid to keep driving through the fog. The stops along the way might surprise you.

Autopilot? Who needs it?