My car is perfect for road trippin’. It has 4 wheels and Apple Car. That’s all I need. Wheels on the road, Waze on the big screen in front of me, and Apple Music in the background. But Waze above all. Waze is like one of those dogs for blind people. I’m not technically blind. But on the road, I’m kinda blind. I was conceived without a sense of direction.
On top of that, I’m the riverboat gambler type when it comes to road tripping. A driving gunslinger. If I feel that taking a sharp right to nowhere would help avoid a traffic jam, I don’t think twice. I fucking take a sharp right. Bam! Often against Waze advice. Then I get horribly lost. Invariably…
In fact, my only recurring nightmare is being lost. Close to home. I know where it is but I can’t get there. I hate it.
So? WTF am I doing driving a car for fun if it always leads me to a dark place?
Maybe I’m just looking for something. Adventure. Quiet solitude. The open road.
Something.
Or maybe I just love driving. On an empty highway, on cruise control (the car feature, not the mood), legs crossed yoga-like, a finger on the wheel, a third of my attention focused on Waze (even on a 127 miles motorway trip, I still check the screen every 8 milliseconds, just ion case), a third on random thoughts often associated with the scenery or the music I listen to, and a third focused on these two dotted lines in front of me. It’s crazy what a couple of white lines can do to a man.
My last BIG road trip all alone was in Oregon. May 2011. Don’t ask me how I managed to convince Karen to allow me leave for a week across the continent while she stayed home with a new boy and a girl hitting her terrible twos.
Convincing the family was much easier this time. It went like:
Me: I’m going to Scotland for my birthday.
Karen: You’re taking my car?
Me: Uh… our car? Yes.
Karen: Ok, what’s your Uber psswrd?
And that was it. I was going to drive to Scotland for a week on my own.