My first cross-country road trip and what I learned about shame
Take it or leave it, the road is neither your friend nor your enemy.
Life is full of many firsts. Some are cherished memories, like my first kick in the womb — my mom told me she savored that moment for a full minute. Other firsts are best left in the past. But embarking on my first cross-country road trip is a milestone worth remembering.
I’ve always traveled with company, be it by plane, train, or car. But this journey promised a different companion — silence. Silence is a side dish most people refuse to have. I take that back. I don’t think silence is what we’re afraid of. It’s whatever wears the cloak of silence that scares the hell out of us. While silence is non-negotiable on this trip, I wonder what else I will find within the void.
That is what made this trip something to write about. I was no longer hiding from whatever was hiding within the shadows of silence. I’d be having a 3-day sit-in with all the thoughts and ideas that had been asking for an interview for months. This ought to be fun.
While the trip was a first, packing for it wasn’t. Who plans a trip then procrastinates until the end to pack their bags? That would be me. I envy those who could have their bags packed a week before they leave for a trip. Of course, I had it in mind to do days before, but I didn’t get to it until the eve of my trip.
One minute my apartment had everything where I wanted it to be and the next minute, everything was everywhere else. Socks, gloves, gift wrappings from last Christmas, half-eaten energy bars that slipped from my fingers as I fell asleep while preparing a last-minute PowerPoint presentation…little secrets I thought were all nicely hidden.
Packing does that to you. It brings everything to the limelight. And memories you thought were tucked away would come crashing down. You thought three hours would be enough for packing the few items you owned, but it was already five hours and there you were, still bent over an old greeting card from a friend who was now someone you used to know.
But I managed — without slipping on the stairs — to fit everything into my car. I might have missed out on a few more hours of sleep, but packing was done and dusted as was my about-to-be ex-apartment. By the time I was pulling out of my driveway, I wasn’t only an hour behind my schedule; tiredness was struggling to take the wheel from me.
Something I should have learned about road trips is that the trip is as enjoyable as your car is willing. Less than an hour into the trip, my car tire deflated. It was barely 5 AM in pouring rain but who cares. In all honesty, I got my car checked out the day before but here I was praying to make it to the next gas station. Luckily for me, I found one on my route but unfortunately, I got drenched while playing mechanic. How do you make the weather for one when it was obviously for two?
Who said something about the journey not being about the journey but about the experiences along the way? That person was on to something. A road trip is as long as the fun along the way. My first day was quite uneventful. The route had fewer interesting things to see. The day had lightened considerably but the sun refused to show up. Probably because of the rain, the sky was gray, and clouds were nonexistent.
The picture outside kind of intensified the tiredness within, making me long for sleep. And driving and sleeping are not good together. I needed a rest stop, but the next one wasn’t until two hours later, according to my map. I had counted on silence as my companion, but sleep is a heavy company. If you’re not careful, it could take the trip from you if you know what I mean. Rather than test the fates, I resorted to not counting sheep till I got to a rest stop.
Whoever came up with the idea of a rest stop was a genius. It’s a delight to tired bones to drift off into oblivion even if it’s just for a while. I drove into the lot like a kid waiting for Santa. I was that happy. Finding the right parking spot, I reclined my seat and soon pressed snooze. I couldn’t sleep for more than an hour, but that one hour elevated the trip for me.
Another thing I found interesting about a road trip is the camaraderie that comes with being on the same road with complete strangers. We’re all heading to different places, but for a moment, we all share the same space. One time, two vehicles in front of me seemed to play a game of who gets ahead first. At first, I thought it was childish even though I was smiling at how each vehicle tried to get ahead of the other.
For a minute, they weren’t strangers, just two drivers bonding over their shared love for the road. The game soon ended when one of the vehicles steered off in another direction, its occupants waving a sad goodbye to those in the first vehicle. I wasn’t even a part of the charade, but I felt sad seeing them go.
I wondered if I would feel the same way if they were enemies rather than friends. Road rage is a thing I never want to identify with. I’m glad those two would get to their destinations telling tales of friends they liked but never met.
Besides making friends — or enemies — on the road, I also noticed how shame rules our decisions. (Stay with me for a minute).
As I cruised down the highway, my patience wore thin behind a slow driver hogging the speed lane. I decided to change lanes and overtake them, only to find myself stuck behind an even slower vehicle. Oh boy! I wanted to go back to the previous lane but felt a sense of shame. I was stuck, wondering what the person I was about to overtake must think of me. What about the cars behind me now overtaking me? In my mind’s eye, I could see them looking at me with a stare of disdain, cackling, “she thought she was better than us, see her now.”
I hesitated as these thoughts assaulted me. But I finally mustered the courage to change lanes again. I reminded myself that these were strangers whose opinions were irrelevant, mere speculations of my own making. I wish I could say the same for other drivers along the way who fell in the same situation as me. I wanted to scream my advice to them,
“Do you. Nobody really cares!”
But instead, I stuck to my side of the road. Everybody learns eventually. Or do they?
I did mention that the journey was as long as the fun on the way, right? Why does a minute sometimes feel like an hour and at other times, it feels like a day? Depends on what’s in it, I guess.
My first day on the road dragged on forever, but the second day was much lighter. The route wasn’t only scenic; the weather was a welcome distraction from the ache of driving. I got the brilliant suggestion from a friend to play music — how did I even miss that?! The combination of the scenic route, uplifting tunes, and beautiful weather transformed the entire journey. By day three, I found myself at rest stops not for naps, but only for quick refuels and light brunches.
In a list of firsts, so far, the silence hasn’t spoken. No intrusive thoughts yet. Just observations about the road and other road users. I looked to the passenger seat smiling, I guess silence is happy being silent.
Hey, I’m Nanya. Having you stop by means a lot to me. Thank you.
