The Road Trip: Driving into the Night

The sun was low in the sky as I passed Gilroy. Elizabeth sat in the back seat watching a movie while Joseph and I listened to Harry Potter. Buildings flew past as I shifted into cruise control. One thought flashed repeatedly through my mind.

This isn't a good idea.

I'd been up since just before six and spent almost ten hours at work before loading the car and kids and heading north. Hundreds of miles stretched out before us and hours of driving.

There used to be a VW commercial that on the road of life there are passengers and there are drivers. The ad was aimed at the drivers, showing twisted roads and a sleek car hugging the curves. To me, it confirmed what I always knew.

I'm a passenger.

Traffic stresses me out, windy roads make my shoulders hunch, cliffs make my knuckles white. I'd much prefer to be sitting to the right of the driver, looking out the window than staring at the white and yellow lines.

Which is why 120 miles into a 1,900 mile solo road trip with the kids made the orange "Caution: Bad Decision" light blink in my head.

But I'm a stubborn sort, so I just kept driving north, telling myself I only need to reach the Bay Area and that a road trip would look better after a good night's sleep.

We were staying with a friend - though one I'd never met - for our first night. Amy had offered fresh sheets, clean towels, and a chance to meet in real life. We pulled into her driveway late, both of our kids awake far past their bedtimes and energized to an almost manic level. We weren't much different. Our words tumbled over each other as we tried to stuff years of online friendship into minutes before we all needed to go to bed; it was a work night for her and I wanted to be on the road early.

The morning was rushed: press of hugs, promises of proper time together, hurriedly packed snacks, waves goodbye.

In the light of day with a new road in front of us, the doubts of the night before were a memory and the knowledge that I'd be spending that night in Oregon with a friend I hadn't seen since high school graduation spurred us on.