Fifty hours of driving provides plenty of space for self-reflection.
By JENNA PETERSON
PHOTOS: JENNA PETERSON
Tip #0: Don’t crash your car when the trip barely started.
Crrruuunnnccchhh.
Not the sound you want to hear from your car on the first day of a cross-country road trip. Hell, you’re not even in the country, since you decided to make your first stop in Toronto.
I paused for a moment, barely processing what had just happened. I looked to my left; hardly any space separated the parking garage pillar and my innocent Ford Escape. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place, literally.
My breath started to shake as I checked my phone; absolutely no service. Not surprising, as I was five levels below the ground. My friends had stayed in our Airbnb while I went to park the car, which we all thought would be an easy task. I didn’t have the skill to fit the car in the space, but couldn’t leave the car where it was and risk getting towed. So I put the car in reverse, and the next moments were a blur. All I knew was that every move I made was making the car worse. I finally gave up after a few minutes and parked in the next spot over, immediately running up the five flights of stairs so I could call my friends.
As I waited for them to find me, I could feel the guilt take over my body. This was what I had been looking forward to for years — the most epic road trip of my lifetime. And I had just ruined it.
Ever since I committed to USC, I’ve fantasized about bringing a car from my hometown of Burlington, Vermont to Los Angeles. With a summer internship lined up in L.A. and a longing to have the freedom of exploring the city by car, this summer was the perfect opportunity. So on May 22, two of my hometown friends and I loaded up the back of my car and hit the road.
It didn’t entirely feel real until I pulled out of my driveway and waved goodbye to my parents. Then the doubts started creeping in: Could I even drive for such a long distance? How was I to spend two entire weeks with two people and endure their turns on aux? But, just like every other leap I’ve taken in my life — like moving away from home to the farthest city possible in the first place, where I knew absolutely no one — I thought it would somehow work out in exactly the way it needed to.
But the second I crashed the car, the doubts came rushing back in.
My friends eventually came down to the garage to help and ended up backing into the spot. Then we assessed the damage. The driver’s side mirror was completely shattered, unusable. The fender was deeply dented, so much so that the door made a large noise upon opening.
But we could drive the car without hearing any other concerning noises, and that’s all that mattered. But still, thinking about the cost of everything — financially and emotionally — sent me into a spiral that I couldn’t quite shake all night.
An attempt to fix the mirror.
We ended up finding an auto repair shop not far from where we were staying, and as much as I wanted to retreat into the apartment’s couch and wallow in my emotions, my friends and I took the trek.
It wasn’t exactly what I pictured for our first outing in Toronto, but my anxiety eased as we walked through the city’s Chinatown. It’s always jarring when I arrive in a big city after spending some time in Burlington, but I’ve found comfort in hustle and bustle. Seemingly contradictory for a socially anxious person, I love crowds because I can blend into them. No one cares what I’m doing, where I’m going, what I’m wearing or what I’m saying.
No one on the busy streets of Toronto knew that I just crashed my car. Even my friends — who were rightfully pretty upset with me — were admiring the scenes that we passed by: markets, parks, countless hole-in-the-wall restaurants. I couldn’t help but do the same as we made our way to the shop.
The auto shop didn’t carry the mirror we needed, but the person working told us that there was another 2015 Ford Escape that was missing its driver’s side mirror, and that if we were missing the other one he would’ve given it to us. Not helpful, but what were the chances that someone else who just happened to be in Toronto and happened to drive the same car as me also happened to lose their driver’s side mirror? This was the first of several synchronicities from the two weeks that have made me look at life a little differently ever since.
We found another shop that had a mirror sheet and mounting tape, and we made a — in my opinion, very charming — side view mirror that, despite its warp, would make do for a while if coupled with an alert backseat passenger that could help the driver merge.
The next morning, we kept going. We had no choice; we had lodging booked for the rest of the trip that we couldn’t change.
I’ve known my friend Ryan since sixth grade, and Eamon since ninth. Coincidentally, the three of us bonded on a school trip to Spain in our junior year of high school — or, more accurately, the summer after the voyage when we had to complete community service together because we got caught leaving our hotel room one night.
And therein lay the next synchronicity: The feeling in my gut when I crashed the car was nearly identical to the feeling I had when our teacher called my parents the next morning. The feeling that there was no way I could get out of bed and keep moving, but there was no choice.
So we drove from Toronto to Chicago donning our DIY mirror, with the driver climbing over the passenger seat every time they had to get out of the car. It wasn’t ideal, but it worked.
On the way, we stopped in Detroit, and although there wasn’t a lot of time to spare, we walked around the city for a bit, just to soak it in.
Tip #1: Plan stops between stops
Besides bringing someone else with you when you try to park in a tight space, this would be my first tip for anyone embarking on a long road trip: Find a city between each destination where you can stop. Stretch your legs, get lunch, fuel up on gas — all while experiencing yet another hidden gem of the country.
I don’t feel like I can accurately describe Detroit after only walking around a couple of blocks, so I won’t try. But it was the first part of the trip that made me realize the significance of the journey we were on. I’ve spent a lot of time in Michigan in my life — my whole family was born there except for me — but I had never been to Detroit and I had always wanted to. The moment we got there I almost felt uneasy. The journey, although far from easy up until that point, felt too simple: Two of my friends and I just hopped in a car and drove.
There are so many places that you can get to simply by stepping on a gas pedal, but I’ve always told myself I don’t have the time, or money. To be fair, I barely had either of those things. I had to run production for Summer Trojan in the car twice with an unstable hotspot, and I couldn’t eat out for weeks once I got back in an attempt to financially recover. But while walking around Detroit, even if for less than an hour, I realized that setting aside the time, money and energy for the trip was one of the best gifts I had given to myself, and I vowed to do it more.
Tip #2: Try your best to find free places to stay
Four hours later, we arrived in a suburb of Chicago where Eamon’s family friend lives. She graciously let us stay with her, and we were grateful to have a meal paid for and to not have the stress of figuring out Airbnb logistics.
We went out to dinner and spent a while talking to her and her son. She told stories of her adventures with Eamon’s mom from high school until now; I even learned more about some of Eamon’s travels that he’s embarked on since I moved to California. We talked about our varying college experiences in three different parts of the country — Southern California, New England and the Midwest — the competitiveness of clubs, how surprisingly each school has a ski and snowboard team, our student newspapers and nightlife. It was refreshing to have human contact with people besides each other, and it was yet another tiny corner of the world we got to experience.
We didn’t get to explore Chicago since we got there so late. We were supposed to stay there for two nights but messed up our bookings for the next two cities, so pretty much right when we woke up we were on the road once more.
The first day I was in Vermont this summer, the three of us were catching up over a glass of beer in downtown Burlington. Conversation naturally transitioned into road trip logistics, and we were trying to figure out if we could see any concerts in any of the stops we had planned.
Ryan realized CupcakKe — one of his favorite artists — was playing a show in Denver the same night we thought we were going to be there, so he double-checked the Airbnb booking (he was responsible for finding lodging in Denver and Kansas City) and realized it was a night early. He checked the Kansas City booking; it was also a day early.
We all just kind of stared at each other when we realized. To change the dates, we would’ve had to pay a steep fee, so the smarter choice at that point was to nix a night in Chicago, since we wouldn’t have to pay. We had another free place to stay later down the line in Salt Lake City, so we extended that to three days so the rest of the trip would stay the same. But that meant the first part of the trip would be extremely rushed.
Tip #3: Silence is beautiful
This is when the trip started to get a little overwhelming. How much can you really do on your third day in a row of driving for eight hours straight? We played some games, finding hours of entertainment in naming five items from a random category and ranking them. But honestly our social batteries were deteriorating. We started to implement “quiet hours.”
Eamon and Ryan tended to sleep during these quiet hours if they weren’t driving, but I never could. I’d close my eyes for a bit, but I never wanted to go too long without taking in the scenery, even if we were only driving past fields. So I tapped into my knack for daydreaming. I’d imagine myself in the cities we’d visited so far, or in a little farm town that we drove by. Every life I pictured was vastly different from another, but I found myself extremely content in all of them. In the real world, I’m a rising senior with an uncertain future; so there was a certain comfort in dreaming of the things that could be, or that could have been.
We wanted to find another city to stop in on the way, and settled on Des Moines. Again, we only spent about an hour there, so I can’t really describe it accurately, but we ate really good tacos and walked along the Des Moines River.
Des Moines, Iowa.
On the surface, most cities aren’t really that different from each other. There’s always a cute downtown area, often a nearby body of water and suburbs full of neighborhoods. But it’s the people who make a city, and every city attracts a different type of person. I just wish we had more time to experience the people.
I honestly had little to no expectations for Kansas City. Our Airbnb was pretty far removed from downtown, but we went to a barbecue joint within walking distance. (I’m a vegetarian, so I settled with a cold glass of beer and some fries.) Maybe it was the 24 straight hours of driving and talking — and the general vibe of feeling like a Kansas City local — but it was one of the best glasses of beer I’ve ever had.
Tip #4: Treasure your nights
That night, I started to feel a lot better about the car incident. In our cozy little loft, I finally got out of my head and started to write out my thoughts and feelings, which was how the idea for this piece came to be.
I think at this point we collectively began appreciating each other’s company and the sheer uniqueness of the experience. We spent some time looking through the photography books at the Airbnb. One of them was a collection of views from Waffle Houses across the country, another was of flowers from around the world. Things seemed to snap into place at that moment: Views that many people only see from afar — in books like these or online — we were seeing together, all at once.
I never voiced these thoughts to Eamon and Ryan; they’re more special left unsaid. So, after watching too many old “Project Runway” episodes, we went to bed.
Tip #5: Make use of your mornings
From then on, we decided to spend some time each morning exploring the city we were in since we were simply too tired to explore at night. We grabbed some coffee and pastries and walked to Crown Center and the National WWI Memorial — finding beauty in a city I hadn’t thought too much about before. I wished we had done this in Chicago and Toronto, but at least we found our rhythm with three stops to go.
Tip #6: Document and reflect
From Kansas City to Denver was one of my favorite drives, even though it was literally just nine hours across the state of Kansas. Inspired by my realizations from the night before, I started to journal on the road.
“I thought my life was over when I scraped the car on day one in Toronto, but now I feel so much better, lighter, freer,” I wrote. “And I don’t really know why, I think it’s just that we have to keep moving. We have to get to the next destination no matter what happened before. And then you’ll be driving through Kansas listening to old Taylor Swift and everything will be fine, great, even.”
And I started to realize precisely how much we had seen on the journey thus far.
“We’re out of Topeka and in the heart of Kansas. It’s honestly beautiful,” I wrote. “I know most people would get bored of this scenery, which I don’t really understand. Now I’m thinking about how, just like every person has a life as complex as mine, so does every tree. Every flower. Every blade of grass. Every piece of land and grain of sand. Every bird, worm, cat, elephant, every living thing. And driving past so many living things is kind of overwhelming if you stop and think about it; it’s nice to take a minute and appreciate the complexity of the universe.”
Clearly, staring out a car window for long enough gives one a flair for the melodramatic. But I stand by it. At that point, I could have stared out the car window listening to “Speak Now” forever.
Tip #7: Find comfort in routine
By the time we arrived in Denver, the finish line was in sight. We decided to venture out and experience the nightlife, trying to soak up every last drop of new experiences. There was a strip of bars not far from our Airbnb, and we got a drink at one — observing all of the people who came in and out, thinking about how, for them, it was just another Thursday night.
I don’t know if it’s just where we were, but there wasn’t much going on. We stopped by a couple shops, watched the “Survivor” season finale and more “Project Runway,” and went to sleep.
In the morning, while Eamon was visiting a friend, Ryan and I went to Union Station to get breakfast — a recommendation from my friend who’s originally from the area. I fantasized once again about living in Denver post-grad, the people, architecture and surrounding nature felt like the perfect combination of Vermont and California.
Energized from our breakfast, we found time to stop at Red Rocks Amphitheatre. Seeing a concert there is one of my top bucket list items, but walking around was almost as incredible. We climbed the stairs to the top, looking down at Denver and the gorgeous rock formations with trees that looked like dark green sprinkles. I imagined being at the shows that I’ve watched videos of hundreds of times, and told myself that I’d be back one day.
Red Rocks Amphitheatre.
Tip #8: Music is key
Next was Salt Lake City. My indie-folk playlist (creatively named “my favorite indie folk”) played as I drove through the windy mountain roads between there and Denver. Eamon and Ryan fell asleep, and I still can’t believe they missed the most beautiful nature I’ve ever seen. Bridges made of natural red rock with a river on the other side. Noah Kahan, Caamp and The Lumineers added to the ambience to create a moment that will be etched in my brain forever.
Not a day went by that we didn’t have an aux-related argument. It turns out I couldn’t always stomach Rihanna’s “Diamonds” at 8 a.m. (sorry Ryan). And apparently, not everyone wants to listen to Taylor Swift for three hours straight. We decided that whoever was driving would aux, so I’d spend the hour before my shift creating the most masterful queue.
Tip #9: Be a tourist
Even though we were only two stops from L.A., Salt Lake City was the recharge we needed. We stayed at Eamon’s sister’s apartment for free, so we took three nights to pause.
But that didn’t mean we stopped moving. We saw all the natural wonders of Utah: the Great Salt Lake, the Salt Flats, Cottonwood Canyon. I’ll never forget the way my feet stung after wading through the salty water to get to the Bonneville Flats. Or the way my mouth watered when I let a morsel melt on my tongue. Sensations that aren’t quite the same anywhere else in the country.
Saturday night, Eamon and I decided to go out, for real this time, to redeem ourselves from Denver. He asked his sister for the best places to go — another perk of knowing someone from the city you’re in. We told the Salt Lake City locals we met at different bars around the area all about our journey, and I felt so cool as we detailed our venture through the five cities. Not many sane people embark on such an adventure, I realized; but I found myself encouraging everyone to try it someday, anyway.
We only had a couple of hours in Zion National Park, but I was starting to learn that’s all you really need to soak something in. Of course, I’d love to go back to all of these places, but I’ll forever be satisfied from just getting a little taste of so many sights.
Tip #10: Make some stupid decisions
Vegas was a complete 180. We had gone from expansive nature to streets so crowded you could barely move. Our dinners were $20 BeyondImpossible Burgers, and that wasn’t even the worst economic sting of the night.
It’s hard not to make some questionable choices when you’re freshly 21 in Vegas. I thought I was on top of the world when I won $50 in roulette, but naturally that gave me the confidence to keep betting. Long story short, quit while you’re ahead, or you’ll suddenly find yourself short of $100.
Or maybe don’t. Because it’ll be a story to tell someday — that is, if you still have the money to tell it.
Tip #11: Don’t move on too quickly
I wasn’t expecting the post-road trip fatigue — and, frankly, depression — when we arrived at our final destination. I became addicted to waking up in the morning and rushing to get ready to experience a new part of the country.
Even when we were in L.A., the urgency remained as we ventured to different neighborhoods each day. When I dropped Eamon and Ryan off at the airport, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I finally unpacked and started to deep clean until I realized how utterly exhausted I was. I layed in bed for about three days straight.
It’s been more than two months since we first embarked on the adventure. Finishing this piece now, the crashed car feels like a tiny blip in my 21 years of life.
But probably for the rest of my life, I’ll hear “Archie, Marry Me” by Alvvays or “Comeback Kid (That’s My Dog)” by Brett Dennen and think about the moments on the road when everything just clicked. It was the epitome of being young, with no responsibilities but getting to the next pin on the map.
Most importantly, I know myself, Eamon and Ryan better than I ever could have imagined getting to know someone. After a while, it became intuitive to sense when anyone was upset, or tired, or hungry or even truly happy.
I’ve learned that life always keeps moving, it just feels faster when you’re on the road. There are days when it seems impossible to get going, but the passing of time turns into a gift that makes mistakes less painful — and endings into new beginnings. By morning, there’s comfort in the distance of the night before, and the knowledge that, whatever happens, the next stop will always be waiting. ❋
Jenna Peterson is the editor-in-chief of the Daily Trojan. She is a rising senior majoring in journalism and political science.
