“Kathy, want to drive to Virginia today?”, Liz asked on late-morning Friday. She was my college roommate during my sophomore year in La Crosse, Wisconsin. Our Division III college football team had made it to the national championships that weekend in Roanoke, Virginia. One of our friends had the hots for one of the players, which spurred this impulsive thinking.
It was an immediate yes, realizing nothing happening on campus that weekend could beat a fun road trip. Although we wouldn’t even be able to recognize our football team’s mascot, all of a sudden we were their biggest fans. After all, football team loyalty seemed a requirement to justify this cross-country road trip.
A couple of hours later, four of us girls with scraped-together bills climbed in my compact stick-shift red Dodge Colt for the 1000-mile, 14-hour car ride. We left Friday, navigating by spiral-bound road atlas. We guessed at the quickest route. We drove all night through treacherous mountain roads, then stopped to freshen up at a rest area near Roanoke, Virginia about an hour before game time.
Now fully waking up, we brought both our travel bags and oozing excitement into the rest stop. In an instant, this nondescript public bathroom became our private dormitory. Our bags were spread all over the main floor as we found fresh shirts and pulled out toothbrushes, makeup and curling irons. It’s game time, after all! Women entering had to step over and around us, but always glanced our way with a smile. Only one woman inquired, “Who are you, and why on earth are you so excited?” When we told her about our spontaneous trip and driving all night, she wished us good luck and went on her way. She returned a few minutes later and gave us $20 – a contribution from a random stranger for our gas. It was the sweetest thing!
In the stadium a short while later, we found ourselves sitting by a group of locals instead of our fellow Wisconsinites. They were independents who were there just for fun, not cheering for one side or the other. This seemed more appropriate, in case any Wisconsinites tested our college football loyalty or game knowledge. Although they were our parents’ age, we became fast friends, united by the fellowship of the moment. They bought us food, also sensing college kids like us may be light on cash (we were). Late in the game, one of them uncovered they were a journalist, then interviewed us for the Sunday Roanoke paper.
Why did this weekend trip become filled with so many perks? I think it had something to do with the spontaneous nature. As I am recalling this story, my body is pulsating with the thrill of the memory. If we had planned out this trip in advance vs. going on a whim, I am sure I wouldn’t even remember it today. I am sure we wouldn’t have met such wonderful humans. But the spontaneous nature kept us in each present moment, and therefore was the spring of our bursting joy.
When was your last spontaneous escapade? I bet right now you are recalling an impulsive day in your life. What was it? As you are remembering, I bet that you perhaps feel your pulse. Those moments of electricity embed into our hearts, which we never forget.
Growing up, my Dad and Mom would often take me on a Sunday Drive. A Sunday Drive usually happened in the afternoon, after morning church, of course. A Sunday Drive usually meant there is no destination and no rush. It always involved turning down a road we weren’t planning on. If a gravel or dirt path looked interesting – we turned. In the summertime, it usually involved checking the cows at our cattle pastures. Sometimes we drove through fields. Sometimes we stopped on the edge of a neighbor’s corn field or sunflower field, to measure it compared to the top of our heads. Sometimes we stopped to read a historical marker – one we had driven by but never taken the time to stop. Sometimes we took pictures of interesting things. Sometimes on a whim, we stopped in at a neighbor’s house for afternoon coffee and a game of cards.
Looking back over the past year, I can’t think of anything that I’ve done on a whim. Everything was planned; nothing unplanned. I’m going to change that. I’m going on a Sunday Drive. Turn off navigation. Pick a road, and drive. If I usually turn right – I’m going to turn left. I’m going to find the most interesting road or most boring road, and love them both. I’m going to find the edges of the pavement until I find gravel. I’m going to leave structured city lines for the curved roads of sprawling farm lands. Maybe we’ll get out of the car and climb a hill. Then, maybe we’ll roll or sled down the hill. Maybe we’ll stop at a store we wouldn’t normally go into. Maybe we’ll stop for ice cream. Maybe we’ll spot a roller-skating rink and stop on in.
I’m publishing this on Sunday morning, to not give either of us time to plan. If there is an electric pulse coursing through you right now – I dare you. Do it. Grab your loved ones, hop in the car, and see where your heart takes you today. Will you accept my challenge?
Lorna Howarth
Yes! We also used to get lost on a Sunday afternoon (in the days before climate change gave us a guilty complex!). I’m looking forward to knowing where you went and how it turned out! xx
Kathy
“Getting lost on a Sunday afternoon” has to be one of the best things in the world. Love it. And YES – my Sunday Drive ended up being solo, through some backstreets of a nearby town. I found a new little store with the name including the word “Portal,” and as soon as I entered, the store owner gave me two gifts, as if a reward for going with the flow. I did find a few other magical things that came home with me too. 🙂