[ Home | Introduction | September | October | Conclusion]
First, a little background about me, and why I took this particular trip.
For most of my life, vacations were relatively scarce and relatively short, not unlike most Americans. They were limited to long weekends for the duration of college and my working years. Post-retirement, people expected me to travel extensively, and I did indeed travel more. I visited my sister in Europe (Warsaw). I went to New Orleans twice to visit a friend.
But other than visiting friends, I didn't travel outside the Pacific Northwest very often: Vancouver, BC, Victoria and Portland were about the extent of my excitement. In the summer of 2000, I accompanied my boyfriend on his move across country, and visited him and a friend also in New England several times during the following year. I also visited Yellowstone National Park with a friend, a mixed experience (loved the park, loathed the friend by the end of the first day of the trip). And I visited friends in the Bay Area.
I expected to move across country with the boyfriend in the summer or fall of this year, and promised my sister, now in North Carolina, I would visit her at the end of September. I had also committed to attending a wedding in Pittsburgh in early October.
I did not move across country in the summer (or fall), yet I still had East Coast commitments. I feel fear about flying, which I haven't precisely felt in the past before. I wouldn't check baggage for the last decade or so, unless I'd inventoried the contents and they were all replaceable. But now I don't want to be on a plane with law enforcement or military officials with questionable judgment and unlimited authority over my person.
I had bought a new car, a Subaru WRX, back in the spring, and broken it in on a week long trip down the Oregon Coast by myself. That vacation was a unique experience for me in a number of ways. For most of my life, vacations have been so separate from my daily life that when on vacation, I mostly remember previous vacations. When at home, I remember living at home -- struggling the day of my return to remember what had happened for the previous few days, but immediately recalling what had happened the last few days before my departure. Oregon was different. I returned distanced, with perspective on myself before leaving town, and with the vacation fresh in my mind, fading very slowly.
So I took myself down to the Seattle AAA office and requested a TripTik and a box of tour books and a few maps to go with it. I told few friends, and didn't do a good job of keeping my boyfriend informed of my evolving plans. Nevertheless, he was unremittingly supportive. As I later discovered, had I talked to more people about my plans, I might never have gone. At least the people I know are taken aback by the idea of a young woman traveling alone as long and as far as I intended to go.
Once I'd recovered from the school-started-cold, I hit the road. My goals were simple: a week in North Carolina, October 2-6 in Pittsburgh, a day or so in western South Dakota to see the sights and whatever visits with Ielleen (who used to be in New Orleans) and Roland (my friend in New England) and assorted other long-distance friends I could squeeze in along the way.
I made no reservations. I had a sleeping bag and mattress but no other camping gear. I had an interstate guide and a rough idea of how much mileage I could lay down in a day: 800-850 miles. I planned to drive, find a nest of hotels, sleep, eat a continental breakfast at the hotel and do the same, repeat until arrive.
[ Home | Introduction | September | October | Conclusion ]
Copyright Rebecca Allen, 2002.
Created October 25, 2002 Modified November 25, 2002