I’ve always been a road trip girl. From the time I was super young (around Marlowe’s age– maybe sooner, maybe later) I remember being plopped in the car for short and long trips. Surprise drives to Disney with my dad, cross country trips from Florida to Canada with my grandparents. I spent countless hours in the car looking at maps. I could spend forever looking at maps. I’ve always loved the factual nature but also the endless ideas and possibilities that maps offered. I would track our drive the entire trip– every trip. I wanted to know where we had been and where we were going. I wanted to plan out every single alternate route that we could take. Routes that we probably wouldn’t take– but we could, if we wanted. Looking back, it all makes sense. Every different metaphor I could (and can) use on road trips and maps makes sense. Detours and road blocks unseen, alternate routes, scenic views and must see stops. Me on the road makes sense.
I didn’t rush into getting my license. In the time I was supposed to be taking driving lessons, I was making my own trip. I had decided to (and my parents had let me) make the switch from my high school in Massachusetts to the a new high school in Florida. I wanted to see what life could be like journeying elsewhere. I stayed a year and a half before heading back home to Massachusetts for the last year of my young adult high school year and then moving to Rhode Island for college— away from Massachusetts forever.In this time in Florida I took my drivers test. Twice. Failing the first time, for failure to reverse properly. Though all metaphors I could offer on reversing in my own life, would actually say I’m just as talented at going backwards as I am at going forward 😉 My second time around, I nailed it. And I’ve been on the road since then and forever. My first trip was hardly a road trip, but still an adventure. Pouring rain on the highway to Miami and all the way back home. Memorable nonetheless.
When I decided to head back to Massachusetts for my senior year of high school my dad did the drive with me. Led Zeppelin, Bob Marley, and The Doors, on repeat the whole drive north. In Massachusetts again, weekend road trips became the norm. Rhode Island, Vermont, Montreal, wherever I could go.
Face-timing with a college friend this week we discussed everything past and present. I mentioned my love for road trips. His response?
“Nahhh, you? haha. ‘Hey Drea want to drive to New York to spend 9 hours there just to drive right back?’ You: ‘YES”
I swear I spent more time on the road then I spent breathing. Always exploring. Always running. Easily punching in up to a thousand miles in a weekend, driving south to New York and back north to Vermont before having to make it to class on tuesday morning in Rhode Island. I wanted to go everywhere.
I had my first car accident in Rhode Island. 7 am, with my roommate in the car. We were both unharmed, but the car was totaled. Hardly reaching a speed of 30 miles an hour and the car was totaled. Insurance to the rescue, and I was back on the road— in a used and mostly working Volkswagen.
When I decided it was time to leave college, I was tired of snow and ice. I knew I needed sunshine. On the map I placed an option for Florida and Arizona. Never even visiting Arizona, I packed my car and headed west. Driving through fields and forests and finally dessert plains– until my car caught fire in Colorado. Near a small ghost town, with not much but an old diner and one car repair shop to offer. 13 hours later the parts were replaced and I was back on the road. I lasted almost a year in the dessert and cactus filled mountains of Arizona until I made the drive along the boarder, right back to Florida.
Where I’ve been ever since.
Living in South Florida doesn’t lend itself to road trips. We’re stuck in this sort of middle ground where any journey out takes too much time to start. My current life doesn’t lend itself to road trips either– given my location and spending the last six years with people who don’t care for the long drive out as much as I do. But if you were to stop and ask me now, “Are you ready? We’re road tripping.”
I’d jump in the car before I even ask where we’re going.
That first car I got? I walked into the dealership with my dad. We picked out the perfect car to match my needs and his as well– though to be honest, probably more of my needs were met. When the paperwork came and the necessary car insurance questions, the dealer asked what the next step would be and I did not know. I turned to my dad not knowing much about what insurance looks like or what it would exactly mean or what would be best— because really, I didn’t know much of anything. My dad, without much of a second thought or a concern said, “Let’s call Esurance, we’ll get you out of here and driving home tonight.” And we did. And I kept Esurance, and never found a need or concern to leave them. A decade and a half later, I’m still on the road– except now with a better understanding of how insurance works, and prices, and with a much higher concern for the lives that my car holds. I still want to go everywhere, but I want to be safe and take care of the people closest to me in the process.
This post is in partnership with Esurance— which really has fit my life and met my needs from the first hour of me buying a car… and on.
From quote to claim, Esurance is working to help you make smarter, more efficient choices with your home and auto insurance. Using state-of-the-art technology, they offer a seamless online and mobile experience along with intuitive tools that help take the hassle out of insurance.