SIGHTS: rock carved by water, petroglyphs, Joshua Trees
SOUNDS: hummingbird chitter, bison grunts, "The Modern Scholar: The Biology of Birds"
SMELLS: musk, sage, brine
FEELS: dry heat, sandy, flies on my skin
TASTES: peanut butter, carrots, and tortilla chips
It was about seven hours into my first solo road trip when I ran over a rabbit.
And so I had the next five and a half hours to contemplate my own mortality and ask the big questions. Why do I live while others decompose? Why does human existence bring pain to other life? Why aren't there any street lamps on U.S. Route 50?
On paper, this route seemed like a fun way to travel from my home in Oakland, California to visit friends in Utah. The road stretches over 400 miles west-to-east through Nevada and crosses several desert valleys. It seemed like a beautiful way to explore a new state, though once the sun set behind the surrounding mountains, I learned why U.S. Route 50 was named "The Loneliest Road in America" by Life magazine.
It was my first time driving a long distance on my own. With gas stations few and far between, and even fewer drivers around, I had little assurance that I would reach my final destination. The trip provided ample time to reflect and contemplate, and served as a wonderful first leap into being an unaccompanied female on the road.
A Common Loon
It wasn't until I passed the sign: "Prison Area: Hitchhiking Prohibited," that I felt the first effects of being on my own.
"Prison Area: Hitchhiking Prohibited"
That sign sparked an entirely fabricated story in my head where an escaped convict forced me to pull-over and take them on as a passenger. In this scenario, we discussed actions they could take that would shorten their prison sentence. The made-up conversation then opened up to talking through our deep fears and traumas, leading to shared realizations and accountability. Jumping forward in time, the convict was eventually released from prison and started their own successful business. Our friendship continued, and our families would meet once a month to enjoy a meal together throughout the rest of our lives.
Driving on your own can make you a little loopy.
Solo road trips are a great time to get creative juices flowing, not only in your head, but out loud. What better time to sing? Or attempt to beat-box? Maybe you want to practice speaking in a different accent? Celebrity impersonations can be fun to master. And you have an abundance of time to gather ideas and practice a stand-up comedy routine (more on this in a future post).
I found myself talking a lot during the drive. Most of my conversation was in reaction to the immensely stimulating audiobook I had rented from the library: "The Modern Scholar: The Biology of Birds" by John C. Kricher (yes, I electively chose to listen to college lecture).
As a fellow bird nerd, I found the material extremely fascinating and often responded to Professor Kricher's lecture to keep myself engaged and alert during the trip.
It wasn't my first time talking to myself. In fact, my therapist often advised me to say feelings or intentions aloud back when I was in college. She told me that it was healthy to verbalize our internal thoughts, and our brains process words from our mouths differently than from another's.
Many social, behavioral, and psychological studies show the benefits of talking to yourself. Not only can it help those who suffer with anxiety and depression, but self-talk can also improve our performance and focus. According to a study written by Physcial Education and Sport Sciences faculty, Shahzad Tahmasebi Boroujenia and Mehdi Shahbazi, basketball players passed the ball faster and more accurately when they motivated themselves out loud at the University of Tehran in Iran.
The power of thinking aloud is not just held by what we say, but how we hear it. Dr. Julia Harper is an occupational therapist that believes “It’s important to note that [talking to yourself] is a two-part process: the talking and the listening. Self-listening, otherwise known as self-awareness, is a primary factor in offering feedback for self-efficacy.”
This road trip guided me to find support and confidence in myself, of which I'm still learning.
Right, Rachel? Right!
Filling My Cup
The thought of being along for multiple hours was beyond alluring. I was an environmental educator at the time, teaching elementary-aged children about the importance of waste reduction and resource conservation. This remains the most rewarding work I've been able to contribute to and learn from, however, any educator/parent/person who works with children knows that kids are really just energy vampires that suck all life from those around.
I had spent the previous couple of years (and would spend the following four) working multiple jobs to be able to live in one of the most expensive places in the U.S., the Bay Area. I love my community there and all who are part of it, but I found myself depleted from constant involvement and eagerness to do "all the things," which is why I took the summer of 2015 off to travel--beginning with this road trip.
The ability to take breaks and be by myself in new environments is a complete privilege that I am very grateful for, though I realize many are unable to take that time. But what if we could make that time?
The common metaphor for self-care is: "You can't pour from an empty cup." This phrase was adapted from educator and public speaker, Eleanor Brownn. Her original words were, "Rest and self-care are so important. When you take time to replenish your spirit, it allows you to serve others from the overflow. You cannot serve from an empty vessel."
Brownn wants people to treat themselves kindly and be able to live happier, healthier, and more productive lives.
“Rest and self-care are so important. When you take time to replenish your spirt, it allows you to serve others from the overflow. You cannot serve from an empty vessel."
I've been slowly learning how to fill my vessel, and continue to stumble when I forget this lesson. I feel the evolutionary and social pressures to be a care-giver, and often find it difficult to say “no” to others and take care of myself if a loved one wants support.
Many have tried to impart the wisdom of "self-care" throughout my life, and at the time my burned-out brain was unable to grasp its true importance. You may feel similarly, and roll your eyes at these overly stated suggestions. However, if you are unable to take a solo road trip, there are many ways to "fill your cup" that are invaluable and probably exhaust less fossil fuels (oh, the guilt of an environmentalist!). Take those first steps, or continue to walk that path.
As I reflect on my first solo road trip, I think about the experiences I shared with my friends once I finally made it through the desolation of U.S. Route 50 and into the urban sprawl of Salt Lake City, Moab, and Flagstaff (all pictured below). My energy was restored and wish for human companionship revived.
R.I.P. road rabbit. I'm very sorry that I was unable to swerve away from you
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