Roadtrip ’99 part 1: National tragedy was the catalyst for a life of travel.
I am publishing the first draft of my world travels as I write it, starting as a solo road trip from Minnesota. It all begins here.
At 18 years old I was in no rush to run off and accomplish my life goals: Travel the world, be an artist, get married and live in log cabin. I wasn’t sure how to do it. I wasn’t really sure what I wanted, so I decided to think about it. Also, I needed money.
So I worked. I lived at home, drove the 12 miles every day and worked in a little Blow Molded Plastics factory on the outskirts of Foley, Minnesota. I wouldn’t say that I loved my job but I loved the people. It was a family run business and the employees got along. They really appreciated their employees. The benefit to this job is that, as my first job, it is one of the hardest jobs I have had in all my life. The work was windowless, hot, loud, fast paced, and redundant factory work. I ran a press. Every 2 and a half minutes or -depending on the product- it would open, you would pull a new part out, cut it out of the hot plastic with a small hook knife, set it to cool and then ready a cold part for packaging, by going through a series of saw cuts, drilling holes, scraping seams, etc. Then boxing it up on a palette. In 1999 I celebrated my first full year of full time work. Our biggest customer was Coleman, we made gas tanks for their generators and the market was hot. Y2K was coming. The computers were going to reset and all electronic functions would stop. If you have a 5 gallon or 1.5 gallon Coleman gas tank look under and check the number. 0033 was me.
But before Y2K came there was the Columbine shooting. Up until that April I had gotten into a good groove at work. The fast pace of running the press was also monotonous and predictable. I learned my moves, how to work fast and efficient without stabbing myself and then I functioned mostly on auto pilot. For nearly 8 hrs a day I got to day dream. Yeah, I spent a lot of time day dreaming about telling my crush that I liked him and what our life would be like married but I also day dreamed about travel. How would I do it? Where could I go? What places would I want to see? What might I experience? I played out all sorts of scenarios in my head. My life was just beginning. I could go anywhere, be anything. I just had to think of the option.
Then the Columbine shooting. Maybe we have lost the shock and horror of school shootings now, since it’s part of school drills, since there are countless stories. It seems the US has accepted it into culture, add it to another “boys will be boys” mentality and claim the protesting victims are fake. Well, Columbine broke a piece of me. It was the first senseless violence I experienced. It had never occurred to me that children would massively kill each other. I had been watching the US, the violence. I was in high school for the California riots around Rodney King and breaking stories of police corruption in California. When 2 teenage boys shot up their classmates and teachers and then killed themselves I snapped. That was it. I hated the US. This country had fostered and raised this horrendous violence.
I didn’t want to travel the world without understanding where I came from. I didn’t want to leave the US and then go around to foreign countries and spread my hatred for my own home. Also, hatred is a bitter thing that is just not healthy. I really didn’t want to hate America.
I began to plan. I had heard of a book written in the 70’s called “Blue Highways” about a man who took a road trip to small towns around the US. Never using the freeway, only using the roads that were in blue on the maps. I wanted to do this. I wanted to disprove the media, I wanted to make better choices than the Columbine shooters, I wanted to find good people and have good experiences, to see community work together. I also wanted to be led on a journey, to have “God as my copilot.” Where might I go? Would I be divinely led?
June 9 was my last day of work at Blow Molded specialties. I would be back when I needed more money.
My first destination was my relatives. A 3 1/2 hr car ride North. I had never driven this trip solo. In fact. This is probably the longest solo trip I had done up to that point. I had only had a license for 4 years. I left home packed with camping gear, maps, my art supplies, and one of Dad’s credit cards to be used for emergencies. I had a couple thousand dollars saved up in the bank from work but I forgot to take it out before I left. I left on a Sunday. So I dug into my sugar bowl and emptied my cash. I had $400 hidden in my bedroom.
As I left I decided to make it a game. Let’s see how far I can drive on $400. I was paying for premium gas for my car. It was about $1.10 a gallon. I remember the most expensive place I bought gas cost me $1.24. I got 32 miles to the gallon.
I went to visit my relatives to say my goodbyes. I didn’t want anyone to worry about me. I had mentioned the idea on one of my visits to my grandma and in an uncharacteristic burst of anger she told me to not even think about that. I had never seen her angry before. Well, except one time when she came out on the porch and yelled at all us grandkids for doing something we weren’t supposed to. I don’t even know what we were doing but she sure yelled.
This was the first time I talked to my relatives like an adult. I sat around and had conversations, talked about their life and stories from when they were my age. It was fascinating. I was actually paying attention to what they had to say. They were asking me real questions. It was like we were just getting to know each other. I wasn’t just the niece or the granddaughter. I was me. Rachael. Travel artist, Rachael.
I didn’t actually tell my grandmother that this was the beginning of my roadtrip but she saw my car packed full of camping gear. She sobbed when I left. I know every terrible outcome was going through her mind. I had plans to stay safe. I also believed I would be protected.
The first few stops were friends and relatives. An artist woman that was making her career decorating people’s houses, my friend living in North Dakota, and then my first Sabbath at a campground that my friend directed me to. My first grocery shopping trip where I bought potatoes, carrots, charcoal, and seasoning.
I spent that weekend drawing campsites, meeting other campers, feeling rustic in the woods. I used my hemp hat as a potholder when I made my camp stew. I was wild and rustic and a traveler. I even tried to sell my drawings. That didn’t work. But I met a widower living on a pension and this was his way of relaxing.
The first day of the real unknown began the day I left that campsite. Up until then I had directions to the next place, I had a destination and someone expecting me but the Sunday I headed out I didn’t know where I would end up. This is the day I call the first day of my solo road strip.
I was heading west across the North Dakota plains. I talked to God like he was a passenger. I talked about hopes and dreams and goals and for protection and wisdom. I was really afraid of being gullible, of not sensing danger, of being tricked. “Please give me a discerning heart.”
Part 2: day one and I get every prayer answered. (keep reading)
Rachael Shores is posting her travel story to encourage those that don’t fit in, to explore the world and their inner desires. Your path can be different than the standard options layed out for us. Follow current travel,art, and life on Instagram @sparrowshand.
Do you know 2 people who could use a spark of adventure? Please share.