Roadtrip ‘99 part 2: Day 1 with no direction and all the answers
Hello there, you are reading about the first travel adventure in a series that leads to all 7 continents, hiking the Appalachian Trail, and working in Alaska on a commercial fishing boat.
Would you like to start at the beginning? Then click here.
I don’t really remember much of that first day into the unknown. It was North Dakota, lots of flat, some rolling hills. Out of curiosity I took a small dirt road that looped through what was sort of like a town. A bunch of identical houses on a wide dirt road, like a little neighborhood in an endless grassy yard. There wasn’t even a store or a business. Maybe it was a movie set. The dirt road set me right back onto my road, Highway 2 and I kept going.
I got more excited as the day went on. I could do whatever I wanted, I could go or stop or take a different road. I had no itinerary, no one to answer to. No one in my life knew where I was. The entire country was open to me. My only destination was to go West.
The empty roads of North Dakota were perfect for my little Bug. I puttered along at 60 mph, max. I love the sound of a VW Bug motor. It sounds like a cartoon car. I liked to keep the little 1600 cc engine at an easy hum. I talked aloud, I prayed. This was the day I was going to listen for the voice of God. I was going to be led and guided and who knows what mission I would end up on. All I needed was to make some miles.
I had a conversation with my Creator. At this time in my life there was only a couple words I used to address The One. Him. I prayed to God, Father, Creator, the I Am of many names. Traditional Bible upbringing. So, I reviewed, day 1, in prayer, what I would like to see for my road trip.
What I asked for: I wanted to find a free place to sleep for the night, maybe some free food. I asked to sell my art ( I did bring along xerox color copy prints just in case) and then very meekly, I asked to get my story published. “Wouldn’t it be neat if a newspaper wrote about me going on this trip?” I asked.
There is not much for North Dakota’s landmarks, grain elevators, lonely gas stations and barely ever a town. My favorite North Dakota joke: What is North Dakota’s state tree? A telephone pole.
It was 6:00 when I came across a paddock along the side of the road with a girl and her horse practicing barrel racing. This looked like a reason to stop and I did. It was the most unique thing I had seen all day. I took it as a sign. This is what would lead me to a safe place to sleep. I parked my car along the side of the road and walked up to lean against the fence, watching the practice.
I talked to the woman coaching the girl. I told them about my roadtrip, about looking for a place to camp, about being an artist. They directed me to the house of the town’s local artist. A wiry petite woman with short black hair, wearing a red and white checkered shirt answered the door. She was the one who could tell me all about the town. “Town” wasn’t much more than 4 blocks. She gave me directions to a free campsite for RVs. However small the town was, I still wasn’t able to follow her directions and find the campground. Instead, I came across a park with a playground. I figured that was good enough. It wasn’t going to rain. I would sleep under a slide or something.
Neighborhood kids that came to play at the playground found me settling in. It wasn’t even dark, it wasn’t really time for bed. So we all went walking, they walked their bikes and they showed me their town and we talked about daily life. Berthold, ND. Population 409 in 1999. It was actually twice the size of the the closest town that I grew up near, Gilman, Minnesota, population 201 in 1999. Gilman not much bigger today. Still, Berthold seemed so much smaller than Gilman.
The next morning I visited the local diner, a young woman had just bought it. I bet she was barely past 30. I was so impressed with her dedication to her small town and her spirit to run a diner in such a quiet place. She commissioned me to paint her diner! I was thrilled. I was invited to stop by and say goodbye to the artist before I left as well. She gave me some snacks for the road. She commissioned me to do a painting of her house and then bought a couple of my prints. Guess what, she had one last question for me, “I write for the town paper,” she explained, “Would you mind if I wrote about you coming through town and your story?”
I left Berthold overflowing with every answered prayer. I had just made $60 from my art. I was going to be in a town news flyer. I was so excited. The day before, those had just been meek questions spoken to my windshield. I had been cared for and welcomed in by this small town. This is what I had set out to find.
I graduated high school wanting to travel but I had realistic expectations. There was no way, I, a young and single female could go out on my own. First, I would get married and then I would have a strong wise wonderful and caring man (maybe a bit of a cowboy) to show me the world. I had no business figuring out a whole continent by myself, train schedules, cultures, how to find hostels, how to communicate in another language. My biggest fear was of being gullible. Eve got tricked by a snake to eat a fruit that God told her IN PERSON not to eat. It was in my DNA, since the creation of man, for me to believe what anyone said. People could probably just talk me out of my money or lure me into a dark alley by acting nice. Our biggest weakness is when we can’t see our own flaws. It was my mission to dig up all my flaws so I could eradicate them. But how do you fix being too trusting?
So far, my main obstacle to my life long dreams of travel was figuring out this whole marriage thing. I thought I would find a high school sweetheart like my parents found each other but then I didn’t date in high school. Besides, I wasn’t going to be a farmer’s wife and there’s NO WAY I was going to marry an artist — they’re crazy! But that was my selection of men in the two schools I attended. I thought I would find someone in church and then we left the church. My crush hadn’t come to his senses yet and professed his undying love for me. Now what? I was a half, a helpmate, the weaker and softer one. Traveling the world required a countenance I didn’t possess. Therefore I had chosen this easier task of driving from small town to small town in a land I was mostly familiar with. I was on a side track of a 3 year plan to develop my character and round out my personality to become the perfect wife.
But now, here I was, 20 years old, driving solo and this wild and scary thought began to grow. It started as just a wild little hair. Why couldn’t I do this in Europe on my own? Did I really need to wait for a marriage? What if Europe was just a series of small towns as well? I didn’t even have to drive. It started so small but it took root and began to form, a big scary idea. “I bet,” I said to myself, “I could do this in Europe.”
I COULD do it. If I didn’t spend my money in the bank. If I found a job and worked all winter, I could probably make enough to fly to Europe NEXT SUMMER, right? You know, this whole “weaker sex” thing? If I’m going to be the weaker one I’ll just work on being as awesome as I can and this perfect partner of mine will just have to top that.
I hadn’t even driven through one state and I had just made the biggest dream of my life into a plan. THIS is the dangers of travel.
Next. Part 3: Montana, Amish, looking for belonging. Here.
Rachael Shores is writing her travel story, one chapter at a time, as a testimony to others that there can be a different way. Normal is overrated. You can follow along with her progress and current travel-art life on Instagram @sparrowshand
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