Interstate Adventures

The first thing we did when we got on the road was talk to my mom. She was excited that we left two days early. She said for what felt like the millionth time how proud she was of the adventure we were about to have. Over the years we waved goodbye many times from the top of our driveway to my parents as they pointed their camper toward another trip.

I come from a family of campers. I remember visiting my mom’s parents in their camper kitchenette when they parked in our driveway in Wilton, Connecticut for many summers. We played cards and they shared stories of the casinos they found on the road. My grandmother was the copilot. She had a loose plan for the route that she put together from maps she got from AAA. When they saw signs for a casino, they went off course. My grandmother said that was how she got her exercise, walking from one slot machine to the next.

They had a map with magnets of each state that they visited. They had rules about what made a state count. For example, attending an event or spending a night counted. They had one state that was only half filled. My grandmother is 99 years old and the answer as to why has slipped her memory.

Staying in a family driveway seemed like a normal thing to do. So, when it came time for my parents to embrace the wide open road, they declared our driveway a summer stopover for many years.

As we pack up, I notice we do not have a map of the U.S. posted outside of our van. We do not have a rigid structure. We have a rhythm. Thanks to the van, we are able to access dirt roads, mountain passes, and major highways. Bruce can work from wherever we are, in a municipal campground in Madison, Wisconsin, or a prairie field in South Dakota.

This way of exploring has introduced us to other travelers with their unique way. Our conversations with these people and the stories they tell are the magnets on our map.