Went to school in Washington State, had a place in SoCal, and spent my summers working on the Sacramento River Delta. Everything I owned, including an audiophile stereo system, a waterski and guitar fit into/onto my Porsche 914 — including the tool box I’d mounted in the front trunk b/c you never knew when you might need to make a repair on the side of the road. (less often then you might think — but still inevitable)
The highlight(s) of my year were those “I’m in Tacoma and don’t need to be in Stockton for 8 days, let’s just see where the road takes me” transitions.
Spending the night in some little town 15 miles off Highway 1 just because it looked like it might have the best pizza in the world. (It never did)
Pulling off the highway to play guitar in some forest for 7 hours because the light would be better to photograph that one tree just before dinner. (It was)
Doing all this before google maps and cellphones so that your knowledge of what lay ahead was limited by what those signs on the side of the road only hinted at-