I drove through 20 U.S. states and half of Canada over half a year, I say.
They smile and ask me if I drove alone.
Yes, I respond. And a soulful lady who joined me in Sacramento; I call her Miss Serendipity.
Some people, having read "Travels with Charley," understand how instead of planning a journey, the journey finds you; Steinbeck knew what he wrote about. Other people don't comprehend how I could do it for so many months alone.
I don't blame them, but try to show them through words how I persevered.
When I was little, my parents took my sister and me to Disneyworld. After each vacation, I would hum the catchy tune of Dad's favorite ride:
It's a world of laughter, a world of tears
It's a world of hopes and a world of fears
There's so much that we share
It's time we are aware
It's a small world after all
Dad never explained his fascination for the ride and I never asked. When he died, my memory of his favorite ride faded away.
Two months at that consulting gig in 2001 led to a parting of the ways. I was brought in through a bootcamp training class, relocated from Boston to San Francisco. I didn't meet their benchmark of high scores from weekly quizzes, so I was let go.
I was devastated. I was thousands of miles from home and all of a sudden, without a steady income. I felt lost and all alone.
I cried. I didn't know what to do or where to go. Mom was sad because she couldn't console me, which made me feel worse. I didn't want to drive home. I enjoyed the California lifestyle and didn't want to leave. I doubted my career objectives. I needed to find myself on a spiritual level.
I decided to continue my journey, visiting more of the country. With a great deal of determination and willpower, I re-packed my Subaru and drove into an unknown future.
I visited national parks, roadside museums, historic battlefields, military bases, and patriotic landmarks. I spent a month with my grandmother in Denver and a week with cousins in Salt Lake City. I soaked on the sun-drenched beaches of San Diego, roamed with the bison at Yellowstone, trekked Monument Valley on horseback, and ate lobster on Prince Edward Island.
If I stayed in one place for too long, I got bored with the sedentary lifestyle and drove on.
After driving 24,000 miles-in seven months-throughout the United States and Canada, I returned home.
A week later, I was glued to the TV watching airplanes crashing into buildings. As the FBI investigated terrorism leads across the country, I remembered visiting those cities: Las Vegas, Phoenix, Sacramento. People were buying American flags and patriotism was running amok.
Dad's favorite ride and the catchy tune came back and haunted me.
There's so much that we share
It's time we are aware
It's a small world after all.
I have seen strangers in my hometown but I saw neighbors in a Las Vegas casino.
I am astonished witnessing the hobbies, interests, and friends my father and stepfather share.
I was frightened when the FBI investigated suspected terrorists taking a ferry from Nova Scotia to Maine a week after I took the same ferry route. Maybe they were on my ferry!
My roadtrip was spent following the American dream for exploration and expansion. Thirteen years after Dad's death, his favorite Disney ride came alive in my travels and his spirit lives on within me.
It is a small world. The social web is bringing us closer and enabling all of us to tell our stories.
What's your story?
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