R O L L E R C O A S T E R

To say that I experience a roller coaster of emotions on a daily basis is the understatement of all understatements.  And in fact, that previous statement alone both pisses me off and makes me smile at the same time! It pisses me off because it's absolutely full of [...shit, what are those things called? You know, where people say them so much that they start to lose their meaning but are still usually true...] cliches! Yes! Cliches.  (I hate them, and yet I so often am one.)  And it makes me smile, too, because there is no better way to explain my emotions on a daily basis than like the highs & lows of a roller coaster. If you know me, then you know I love roller coasters. And that is what life on the road feels like to me.  A roller coaster.  So while the highs are to the mountain tops & the lows are to the depths of the sea, together they make something I love. And that's pretty great.

John Steinbeck already wrote the novel I wanted to author.

When I first started researching for my road trip, I read constantly.  I read novels, magazines, guide books, blogs, lists, maps...  One of the first books I read though, was John Steinbeck's "Travels with Charley in Search of America."  I picked it up in the travel section at the local library and found myself enjoying it so much (and wanting to highlight my favorite lines & write notes in the margins), that I ended up buying my own copy of it at Barnes & Noble.  I don't know what it is about this book.  It's not what many would consider one of Steinbeck's "great masterpieces."  It's no "Grapes of Wrath" (which I've never read) or "Of Mice and Men" (which I did read, but didn't much enjoy because sad stories make me sad.)  It's really nothing special (to most people, probably.)  But when I read it for the first time, I felt like the experiences he had written about were exactly like the ones I hoped to have on my own road trip.  The realizations he made about our country & our society were things I had often thought, but never had the eloquence to put into written word.  In short, "Travels with Charley in Search of America" is the story of Steinbeck's road trip with his dog.  But anyone who has ever taken a road trip knows that the real "story" is amazement, disgust, realization, bewilderment, loss of faith, renewed faith, loneliness, absolute joy, and so much more.  I loved Steinbeck's story so much that I read it a few times in a row.  Or sometimes I'd just go back and read my favorite parts again.  And sometimes I felt like I was reading my own words...

I was cleaning out my van the other day, and I happened upon my copy again.  So I pulled it out and that night before bed, I started reading it.

We all think our thoughts are our own.  We think, "No one has ever thought exactly what I'm thinking right now."  Until we read our exact thoughts typed out into neat sentences on the pages of a novel written 20+ years before we(I) were(was) even born.

I felt that again when I began to read.  And what an amazing (and dreadful!) feeling that is!  We all want to believe that our thoughts are unique; we'd like to think we're clever, or witty, or more observant, or just different from every one else. Special.  But the truth is, it's also kind of humbling and exhilarating when you realize that you're not as original as you once thought; that maybe someone out there does perceive the world in much of the same way as you.  (I don't claim to know anything about Steinbeck's worldview.  He died twenty years before I was even born, and I know nothing of his thoughts about our country except what he wrote in this one novel.) Nonetheless, it made me happy to reread my favorite passages from before the start of my own travels, now that I am the midst of them.

I leave you with this: a passage about Montana that very well could have been written by your's truly.  (Not because I claim to be any ounce of a shadow of the writer that Steinbeck was, but because they are most certainly the same [maybe more poetic] thoughts I had about Montana, too. And I love it.  I love that someone else feels the exact way I do about that "great splash of grandeur.")

The next passage in my journey is a love affair.  I am in love with Montana.  For other states I have admiration, respect, recognition, even some affection, but with Montana it is love, and it's difficult to analyze love when you're in it. [...] It seems to me that Montana is a great splash of grandeur.  The scale is huge but not overpowering.  The land is rich with grass and color, and the mountains are the kind I would create if mountains were ever put on my agenda. [...] Again my attitude may be informed by love, but it seemed to me that the towns were places to live in rather than nervous hives.  People had time to pause in their occupations to undertake the passing art of neighborliness. [...] But I see that, as usual, love is inarticulate.  Montana has a spell on me.  It is grandeur and warmth.  If Montana had a seacoast, or if I could live away from the sea, I would instantly live there and petition for admission.  Of all the states it is my favorite and my love.  --John Steinbeck, 1962

Now if those last two sentences aren't full of words stolen from my very soul, then... well, I don't know what. Because the truth is, they are.  In fact, they don't even have to be stolen from my soul. Those are words I've said aloud in conversation with friends about Montana.

Disclaimer:  If you want an epic story, don't read this book.  I recommended it to my little sister, and she found it boring and hard to read.  I loved it because I was about to embark on my own journey, and I loved what Steinbeck had to say about his. :)

S U N R I S E

I waited for the sun to rise. All night it seemed. Because that's the way it works; the sunrise brings the morning. And I waited for it all night long. Because I was scared. And I was cold. And because I know that the sunrise promises warmth and calmness. Because even if the sunrise doesn't bring a warm day, it brings the sun. And even if the sun hides it's face behind the clouds, the rising of the sun brings a new day. And a new day brings clarity. And then I can remember, when my mind is clear, that there's nothing to be afraid of.  And I will feel calm. And I will be warm again.

Glittering Eyes

"And above all,

watch with glittering eyes

the whole world around you

because the greatest secrets

are always hidden

in the most unlikely places.

Those who don't believe in magic

will never find it."

--Roald Dahl

Scared shitless & having the time of my life.

Scared shitless & having the time of my life.

Maybe that should be the title of the book I write when this adventure has come to an end.  Or maybe not.  Or maybe it won't end.  Or maybe I won't write a book.  Either way, that's the truth: I'm scared shitless and having the time of my life.

I'm not always scared shitless.  And I'm not always having the time of my life.  This past month or so has been a good mixture of both learning to face fears I never knew I had, and experiencing things that most people only dream about.

The truth is, sometimes I wonder what the hell I was thinking when I decided to go on this journey. Other times, I can't believe how lucky I am to be where I am.  Have I mentioned that I'm fickle?  I think you all knew that.  Nobody has ever said "actually..." as many times in their whole lifetime as I've said it in my 26 years.  So I like to change my mind.  Often. Constantly.  However, no matter how many times I find myself wondering, "What was I thinking!?" ...When it's cold, and I'm alone, and I'm sleeping in my van in some random parking lot (yes, this happens more often than you'd think), my mind has been made up about one thing, for certain:  This is exactly where I'm supposed to be.  This is exactly what I'm supposed to be doing. This is my LIFE.  

Yes, I realize that was more that one thing.  Because just as often as I wonder what the hell I was thinking, I wonder how I got so lucky.  When I'm collecting gorgeous rocks from Glacier National Park (shoot, that's not illegal, right?), dancing with the wedding party at a local bar in Woodstock with my best friend, enjoying mimosas on the porch of a B&B on Martha's Vineyard with my soulmate, or happening upon hidden treasures in the most unexpected places, I can't help but think to myself, "How is this real life!? How did I get so lucky!?"  I don't have the answers (which is probably why I keep asking the same questions), but I do know one thing:  Although I'm often scared shitless, I'm also having the time of my life.

Bus Stuff.

Did you know that the Indian Trails buses out of the UP (Upper Peninsula) have wifi? AND outlets in front of every seat? Neither did I!  I was very pleasantly surprised.  In fact, the Indian Trails buses were the nicest ones I rode during my two-day trip to Montana.  And all that leg room! I wish I would have known how cramped & crowded my last two buses were going to be so I would have appreciated my space more while I had it.

I learned a lot about bus travel along the way.  And I learned a lot about myself, too.  Or maybe I just learned about how other people view me.  Either way,  I seemed to learn quite a bit...

Tips for a better bus-traveling experience:
(Feel free to skip this section if you aren't planning on traveling by bus anytime soon.) ;)
--First, if you wanna get things done fast & efficiently without the whole ripping-your-hair-out, gritting-your-teeth, pissing-and-moaning because that stupid automated lady on the other end of the line keeps repeating herself and then asking you to repeat yourself because she "didn't quite get that," do yourself a favor, and just take your lazy ass down to the nearest bus station (or have Grama drive you) & do it all in person.  Seriously.  I tried to do things online, and that experience was horrible.  And then I tried calling, and that was even worse. And then my mother (have I mentioned how SMART that lady is? We should really listen to our mothers more) suggested I just go to the bus station and have them help me figure out the best route, how much it was going to cost, and what to do about my extra baggage.  And when I did, it was a breeze.  So easy! And no hair-pulling, teeth-grinding, or cussing required.  Amen, alleluia.
--I mentioned baggage.  I had to have two bags because one had all of my clothes, toiletries, books etc. in it & the other one is my breather.  (I hear they're working on a more portable therapy vest for active people with CF.  Thank God, because that thing isn't exactly easy to travel with considering it weighs about 40lbs and is anything but "light-weight.") Anyway, I had two bags plus my carry-on and with the cost of your bus ticket you get one carry-on and one piece of luggage 50lbs or less that rides underneath.  Explain your situation, and you just might get to take your carry-on AND your breather on the bus with you.  I said "medical equipment" and the (super-nice) bus driver (in fact, all of my bus drivers were VERY amicable) said "Oh, we'll just call that your carry-on." & when I explained to him that I already had a carry-on, he said "We'll call that one your 'purse' and the medical equipment your carry-on." Mind you, that thing is no carry-on sized piece of equipment; he said it like he was winking at me.  Just be honest & pleasant and people will be more likely to happily assist you.
--Sit in the emergency exit row.  Just like an airplane, you will have way more leg room.
--The buses (only God knows why) are usually uncomfortably cold.  I was wearing pants, socks, shoes, a long-sleeved shirt, a zip-up hoodie, a jacket & a scarf, and I was still cold. So unless you want to freeze, I suggest you dress warm.  And I highly recommend wearing a scarf as well.  One of the large ones that can double as a blanket like mine did numerous times throughout my ride(s).
--If you can, SLEEP.  Especially if you're traveling at night; it makes the time go much faster.
--When you travel far distances, chances are you will have a layover or two.  Take advantage of them! See the sites! Or at least walk to the coffee shop & used bookstore down the street for a bagel & "hot scotch" (hot chocolate with butterscotch; it was SO yummy!) But don't be late getting back to the station for your connection.  Give yourself at least a half-hour before boarding time.
--If you're bored, talk to people. Say hi.  Don't be dumb and give out too much information about yourself, but say hello, tell them your name, strike up a conversation.  Having bus-buddies is fun! Trust me, I made quite a few.

Here's where my self-discoveries started.  More often than not, the first question I got asked after stating that I'm 26  was, "Are you married?" Followed by, "Do you have children." To which I always replied  no, I am not & I do not.   This, apparently, is flabbergasting.  People just don't understand.  Sherry, my grandparents' friend who suffered a brain aneurism years ago & has short-term memory loss, asks the same questions repeatedly (every ten minutes & all day long!) & one of her favorites is, "Are you a married lady, Addie Behm?"  And  when I tell her I am not, and in fact don't even have a boyfriend, she always says with a huge smile on her face, without fail, "Well what's the matter with you, Addie Behm!?" This is exactly what those confused looks on my bus-buddies faces are asking, without saying the words.

I don't ever explain myself too much, because what is there to say to these people? I'm just not (married). I just don't (have kids).  Maybe this realization is less about me, and more about other people.  People today think someone like me, at my age, should be married with children. Those are both beautiful things, and maybe they'll happen for me someday when the time is right, but for now I just want to drive.

A realization that actually is about me:  I look like a super trustworthy, amazing advice-giving, super secret-keeping priest of sorts.  I must, because people feel the need to open up to me, ask me for advice, tell me their secrets, and confess their sins to me.  I learned more about JoAnne & her job as a demolition lady, her brother who wants her to come visit him in Montana but will be mad that he has to pay for their vacation to Canada, and her daughter who gave JoAnne five grandchildren (all boys) than I asked to learn, but I don't mind, of course. It's kind of flattering that people feel comfortable opening up to me.  I don't know what to tell Frank about his sister's random phone call (she usually only calls on his birthday) or how to best sympathize with him over his friend drinking again (although I have no idea why he called him his "friend." Friends don't cause one another to hide in dumpsters to avoid a beating from said "friend")   But I listen, and nod my head, and say a word or two now and then, and that's enough for people. And it's enough for me, too. :)

Michigan. Or Montana...? It starts with M.

You know that feeling you get after something you've dreamed about for so long has finally come & gone?  A vacation, for example... Or a party or a holiday or even a wedding. You spent time with your friends and family, you enjoyed some good food and had a few drinks, you laughed until you cried, you took some silly photos, you made some memories that will last you a lifetime.  You had FUN, and you might even be a little bit sad that it's over, but you're ready to go back to your real life.  You know it, right? That feeling?

That's how I feel about starting my road trip. Not that I'm ready to go back to my real life, but that my road trip IS my real life-- my real dream life. And I'm ready to just get back to it!

Turns out life isn't always as easy as that, and I'm going to have to wait a little while longer for the dream to start. I'm SO close... My head's already on the pillow & my eyes are squeezed shut.  I'm just waiting for sleep to take me. Or rather, the Greyhound to take me to Montana...

Ever since the beginning of my road trip planning process, I've always said that I'll start in Michigan on Monday, September 1st, 2014.  Instead, I'll be taking a bus to Bozeman, Montana on Thursday the 4th, arriving in the afternoon on the 5th, and meeting up with my dad (who's flying in from LA) to retrieve my road trip vehicle. LONG story short, I'm getting an awesome Ford E-150 van that's been converted into a camper by a company located in Montana.

My dad, being the softie that he is (aka best dad in the world), asked if he could travel with me for the first week or so just to make sure I'm comfortable (with the vehicle, with traveling, with life on the road..?) I think he's just nervous for me & my safety and wants to see for himself that I'll be okay. :)

So instead of the 1st, my journey begins on the 5th.  And instead of starting in Michigan, I'm starting in Montana.  And instead of being alone, I'll be with my dad. (He's going to do Montana and North Dakota with me, and then I'm going to drop him off at the airport in Minneapolis, Minnesota on the 11th so he can fly home.)

There are bound to be unexpected bumps and turns along the way over the next several months, so I guess now is as good a time as any to start learning how to hold on or swerve.