I couldn’t tell you the exact year I took my first road trip, but I do remember where I went. Salem, Oregon, my state’s capital.
I never had a car in high school, so getting a license wasn’t exactly high on my priority list. Sure, I wanted to drive like everyone else, but let’s face it, I was a book-reading, choir-singing, homework-loving, ceramics geek. (and it’s not like my budding ‘social life’ was suffering because of it)
I didn’t really mind it at the time. However, once I bought my first car, I had an epiphany.(a minor one, not too painful) It was like tasting pop (soda, fizzy water, whatever…) for the first time after nothing but tap water. I had no idea what I was missing and couldn’t believe I had been deprived for this long. (you will notice in the future, that most of my analogies are based on food. get used to it.)
Driving was freedom. I literally could go anywhere I wanted. Whenever I wanted.
So naturally, I started planning my first road trip. Two of my closest friends lived in neighboring cities over the mountain. One was studying at OSU (blech) and the other had recently married and was eager to host her first house guest. I was all too happy to oblige!
My parents were a little nervous, and to be honest, they should have been. I get distracted easily, turn my music up too loud, I’m kind of blind, (but not too bad) and may go a little fast on my turns.
It was incredible though. I was a little scared, being alone, in the mountains, with no real idea how to change a tire on my own should the occasion arise. I also kept imagining Dexter-esque serial killer scenarios, so I never EVER stopped to pee at the roadside diners. And there was that humongous pothole that I may have not noticed, until my poor car hit it at full speed. Which reminds me…
Thank you, Honda Accords from the 90s, for being so stinking durable, and solid, and having great gas mileage. Though, I’m sorry I never got around to fixing the windshield…
The trip was great, seeing my friends again was fun too, but my favorite part of it all was being alone, just me and my car, on the road, stopping whenever I wanted to take a picture, and no one to tell me to turn the music down.
Fighting Fernweh 