Favorite Road Trip Moments
D-Train
Posts: 7
I know road trips have been mentioned on the boards before, but I have been on so many and each one has been incredibly memorable and meaningful. I find the ones taken by oneself can be the most effective. I've learned so much about myself and America by wandering aimlessly--just me, the machine, Pearl Jam blaring, and the road. I'm new to posting on the boards, though I've read them from time to time for the last several years, and I'd like to share my most recent "special road trip moment" with you all.
About three weeks ago I packed everything I owned that was worth taking into my car and left my relationship that was no longer worth saving. I had been mistreated for about a year and when she finally betrayed me in the worst possible way, I tried to save it for two more weeks and then decided I had to leave Alaska. My heart is in Alaska, I'd spent 2 summers and a winter there and had lived there for a complete year. I had never felt more at home anywhere else. But I knew that if I stayed, she would continue to hurt me all summer long. It was definitely time to leave for a little while, as difficult as it was to do so.
This marked my fourth time traversing the 2,400 miles between Anchorage and Seattle. This time I was emotionally exhausted and terrified of all the beautiful memories around every corner that were associated with her. The first time she ever told me she loved me was on that road. It was very difficult, and I found new meaning in over half the tracks on No Code as I drove. I listened to that album over and over again.
There's a certain mountain pass in northern British Columbia that is not quite the halfway point that was a special place for her. Every time we made the drive we would pull over there and see complete wilderness for miles and miles, and she would frolic in the grass and sing "The hills are alive with the sound of music" at the top of her lungs. As I approached, I knew exactly what I must do.
I pulled over at an overlook and was pleased to have it to myself. The concrete barriers there were covered in graffiti tags of passersby leaving their signatures. I found one that was my name, spelled the same way, from the summer of 07, the summer I fell in love with Alaska and her. I found it unbelievably appropriate. This was the place.
I cracked out my trumpet and started playing. I played some of the softer jazz ballads from my past. The hills were alive with the sound of my music. And as I played, an RV slammed on its brakes and pulled in. A couple in their 50's came outside and listened to me finish out my set, climaxed with my old favorite, 'Round Midnight. They clapped as I pulled the mouthpiece out and the fellow came over to me and said, "You're just out here playing for the bears and God, eh?" I hadn't spoken a word to another human being in about three days, so my voice cracked and I'd forgotten what it sounded like as I replied with a meek, "Yep." He told me he'd never seen anything like that before, and he thought it was "one of the neatest things" he'd ever seen. I considered telling him my motive, but deemed it inappropriate and told him simply that I was inspired by the beauty of that clear, sunny, breathtaking view. We were headed in opposite directions, so we exchanged a bit of information about what to expect ahead and then bid farewell.
I love those little moments when you make a memory with complete strangers that neither of you will ever forget. These are indeed special moments.
I've many other favorite memories from road trips, but I particularly like this one. Anyone like to share some of theirs?
About three weeks ago I packed everything I owned that was worth taking into my car and left my relationship that was no longer worth saving. I had been mistreated for about a year and when she finally betrayed me in the worst possible way, I tried to save it for two more weeks and then decided I had to leave Alaska. My heart is in Alaska, I'd spent 2 summers and a winter there and had lived there for a complete year. I had never felt more at home anywhere else. But I knew that if I stayed, she would continue to hurt me all summer long. It was definitely time to leave for a little while, as difficult as it was to do so.
This marked my fourth time traversing the 2,400 miles between Anchorage and Seattle. This time I was emotionally exhausted and terrified of all the beautiful memories around every corner that were associated with her. The first time she ever told me she loved me was on that road. It was very difficult, and I found new meaning in over half the tracks on No Code as I drove. I listened to that album over and over again.
There's a certain mountain pass in northern British Columbia that is not quite the halfway point that was a special place for her. Every time we made the drive we would pull over there and see complete wilderness for miles and miles, and she would frolic in the grass and sing "The hills are alive with the sound of music" at the top of her lungs. As I approached, I knew exactly what I must do.
I pulled over at an overlook and was pleased to have it to myself. The concrete barriers there were covered in graffiti tags of passersby leaving their signatures. I found one that was my name, spelled the same way, from the summer of 07, the summer I fell in love with Alaska and her. I found it unbelievably appropriate. This was the place.
I cracked out my trumpet and started playing. I played some of the softer jazz ballads from my past. The hills were alive with the sound of my music. And as I played, an RV slammed on its brakes and pulled in. A couple in their 50's came outside and listened to me finish out my set, climaxed with my old favorite, 'Round Midnight. They clapped as I pulled the mouthpiece out and the fellow came over to me and said, "You're just out here playing for the bears and God, eh?" I hadn't spoken a word to another human being in about three days, so my voice cracked and I'd forgotten what it sounded like as I replied with a meek, "Yep." He told me he'd never seen anything like that before, and he thought it was "one of the neatest things" he'd ever seen. I considered telling him my motive, but deemed it inappropriate and told him simply that I was inspired by the beauty of that clear, sunny, breathtaking view. We were headed in opposite directions, so we exchanged a bit of information about what to expect ahead and then bid farewell.
I love those little moments when you make a memory with complete strangers that neither of you will ever forget. These are indeed special moments.
I've many other favorite memories from road trips, but I particularly like this one. Anyone like to share some of theirs?
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