I don't know if epic journeys still happen. I assume they must. But I also fear that things move so quickly sometimes that even epics now come and go before one realizes ... anything about them. And an epic is made in its pace. And realization.
But if one is going to see one's sister for the first time in half a decade and go back to a place where things, good things, and bad things, lie buried and resting ... it might be an epic. Even if the rental car has fancy screens and the journey is just one day, it might be one of those days where lives are changed and stories are told long after.
And a good epic ought to have a muse.
Ours carried a banjo.