Adventure #1

If I were a betting lady (which remains to be seen, right Vegas?):

I would have bet 10 to 1 we'd have car trouble during the trip.

I would have bet 50 to 1 we'd have car trouble during the first week.

I would have bet 1000 to 1 we'd have car trouble on the first day.

I don't know I would have even touched a bet about the first 10 minutes.

As I drove away from my house to pick up Mom from Union Station, I felt like something was going on with my headlights. I wasn't for sure until Mom said "you know your passenger side headlight is out?" drat. I didn't know that. I didn't know that was a possibility because the last time I drove my car (last weekend) I had 2 working headlights. In fact, they checked my headlights at the oil change...or at least they said they did.

I threw Mom a headlight bulb that I just happened to have in my car and "what about this?" She looked at me a little incredulously and said, "yeah, that should work." Well, it may work but not right then. No, then we continued on. right out of Chicago.

Alright, fast forward an hour or so, I'm driving along and there is an animal in the road. Now, it's important to note that this animal was already dead and also seemed small. Not that I like to hit animals. not at all. In fact, I have what has been labeled as an "irrational fear of dead animals." That being said, I hit the animal. It was loud. It was a fairly major hit. After it, my foot was shaking and I was asking questions like, "was that a deer?!?!" and "AH! Do you think part of it is on the front of my car?" My ever patient mother responded with, "no" and "do you want to go through a car was?" She's silly.

So now it's time to fast forward even more, let's say about an hour forward in our journey. We have reached Madison, WI and trying to go through the neighborhoods to find my friends' house. The radio starts to sound scratchy. Clearly, I think, we've lost signal. It's going annoying so I turn it down. Only problem, the scratchy sound isn't going away. I end up turning the radio all the way off and still hear the scratching. uh oh!

I pull over. Mom looks at me and says something like, "So, I bet your not getting out, right?" I look at her shake my head and inwardly say, "earn your keep."

She takes a flashlight and heads out into the night. She starts at the front of the car and begins to look around. "Turn off the lights," she requests while being blinded. She then continues around the passenger side of the car. Her door has remained open so I'm expecting to hear a "hmph" or something when she finds the culprit. I hear nothing.

As she gets back into the car, she stinks. "You've been near death, haven't you?" I ask. (Seriously, why am I so creepy.) "I'm not going to tell you," she responds. Well, great. There's my answer.

She explained that when we hit the animal, it had exacted his revenge and pulled some of the car down with it. That was what was dragging.

Okay, now we knew the problem, time to continue to my friends'.

I turned on the car, reached for the lights, turned it and nothing. nothing. NOTHING! No lights came one. uh oh. Both lights out! I tried the brights. The passenger side bright came on but not the other. uh....

We drove to the Brown's dragging something under the car with one working bright light.

I'd say that's an excellent way to begin a road trip, right? At any rate, AAA should be here any minute.

the nomad

(PS: My mom and I are completely in love with my friends' house and hospitality. They are the best! I wish I had more time with them.)

the scary side of the fun roadtrip

I do not intend for this to become a whiny journal. I've had one of those before. ah, the Xanga days... (I was going to hyperlink an entry or two but decided it was in my best interest to refrain. I'm still friends with some to the boys I was fawning over back then. truestory)

Anyway, tonight, I make an exception. After all, this blog is all about the truth of the trip. Well, here's tonight's truth. Tonight's no-good, whiny, poor-me truth:

I'm scared. I'm frustrated. I'm overwhelmed. I want to cry when I actually stop to think what I'm doing. I want to call it all off. I want to puke. I am terrified of the cliffs on the 101, the traffic in LA, the long stretches of road, the lack of proper rest stops in South Dakota, the way I will smell after the first 3 days, the animal skins in the Indian villages, the living bears in Yellowstone, my car getting a flat tire in the desert, the infrequency of solid sleep, but, mostly, the uncertainty of life after the trip.

I feel like I'm so close to the trip that I'm starting to lose focus of the trip.

Everyone is talking about it like it's a huge vacation. I'm getting huge discounts places (I just got upgraded at the Hilton! squeal!), which is cool. I'm researching the best things to do in every city. But that's not the point. That was never the point.

I put this trip together for one purpose: to see what God has next for me.

It's hitting more and more that I'm not leaving time for that. Where did I schedule that in between the Lake Mead paddleboat ride and the iO tickets?

I think I'm starting to get really scared because it's one thing to say you want God to direct your path, it's another to let Him. God and I haven't been bffs this year. We've been more like office friends. The kind you see on the street or at the grocery so wave and smile to but keep walking on. I don't want that. I haven't wanted that. I think that happens when you are away from the Bubble. I want God to tell me what's next. However, I also want to be in control. I'm very good at control. Just ask my sister who I left in tears tonight at the end of our phone call. But, so very, very, uncomfortably soon, I will no longer be in control. The time for planning will be over and it will be time to do nothing but trust.

It's like when I do air swings. I love being cranked up. I love swinging down. I hate letting go of the cord. The second I have to let go, is the worst second of the entire experience. Up to this point, in my warped mind, if anything went wrong, I could pull myself to safety with the little piece of rope. But as soon as I let go, everything will fall apart: the rope holding my up will mysteriously be severed in half in midair, the entire apparatus will collapse, and the aliens will finally come to collect all earthlings. Yes, it's for your safety, as well as mine, I hold on.

How conceited am I? It's time to pull the rip cord.

wish me luck. but more importantly, pray for me. thanks.

the nomad