Nov 05, 2025–We recently returned from a cross-country car trip to an undisclosed location for an undisclosed family event.
Prepping for this excursion caused me great anxiety. For someone who never deviated from his weekly routine for, oh, two decades, driving halfway across America was a daunting dare.
Before you mock me, know that as a youngster fresh out of high school I spent two years criss-crossing the country in a 1968 Ford station wagon playing in show bands at military bases, Ramada Inns, and chili cookoffs. This boy knows how to live on the road. But that was in the 70s, not in my 70s.
We drove 2600 miles across five western states. But we made it, my wife and I. Here are some random thoughts and takeaways from the unexpected getaway…
We took not one picture.
Nor did we post a single word on social media. No posing at “Welcome To _____” state line signs, no panoramas of the passing scenery, no photos of our breakfasts, and not even a single pic of our destination. One stop was at my brother’s house, and after we left we realized we didn’t even take a picture together, even though we hadn’t seen each other in 8 years. I guess it’s just not my first thought to chronicle every mile of every road trip. And I work in social media.
Texas is a big state.
Half of the 2600 miles was getting out of and back into Texas.
Time becomes relative.
Before leaving the state, we switched from Central to Mountain Time, gaining an hour. An hour later, we entered a state that doesn’t do Daylight Saving Time. So back we went another hour. Then Google Maps took us on a merry chase, during which we crossed into California, which is on Pacific Time. But our clocks did not change, because California was on Daylight time. Our phones automatically kept up, but the car clock and laptop stayed on their own time. We had no idea what time it was, while our internal clocks still were set to San Antonio time. Our solution? We woke up when the sun came up, and we ate when we were hungry. Time became irrelevant.
Goods never stop moving.
For a good part of the journey, we were on roads in the middle of nowhere. You had to get gas when you could, because the next station might be 75 miles away. And yet, traffic never stopped. At any given hour on any given road, there roared a steady stream of semis delivering goods from the ports in San Diego to points inland. Amazon, Fedex, and UPS made up the bulk of the trucks. One night we stayed in a hotel next to a Target distribution center; another night it was the Amazon warehouse. The highway ran parallel to tracks, with mile-long trains double stacked with shipping containers. They never stop delivering your Hermes bags, Dodge alternators, and essential oils.
Traveling involves careful monitoring of food and fluid intake.
Because the goal is to avoid having to use the bathrooms at any gas station or truck stop. Some facilities were worse than bar bathrooms I encountered in third world countries. After one west-Texas truck stop we had to remove and sterilize our shoes before getting back in the car.
We reconnected with humanity.
One of the big benefits was being reminded that people everywhere are general nice, curious, and engaging. I’m afraid our filter of social media can exaggerate the dangers and deviates out there. But I made it a point everywhere we stopped to engage the clerks, cashiers, and servers on a personal level, asking them why they worked there, if they enjoyed their jobs, and what their life plans were. I heard fascinating stories, from the ex-felon who declared “you can’t be afraid of your past” to the young hostess who had a 9-year plan to be a running the imaging floor at a hospital.
All in all, the trip was not as onerous as I’d feared. It was energizing to break out of the routine and see new territory, experience different foods, and put down the phones.
Back home, life seems rather tame.
But I’m never leaving again.
Although, I wonder what Nova Scotia is like this time of year…