Travel Stories
What It’s Like Driving 11k Miles with Just a Toddler
The mother and 3-year-old son who road trip the Western United States in a Toyota Tacoma
“Just the two of you?” many have exclaimed… My response is always, “Why not?” and a whimsical, “Yes, just us.”
This year, the 21st year of the 3rd millennium of our current era, and the second year of the great pandemic of the coronal virus, my toddler son and I have traveled around eleven thousand miles by the modern chariot, drawn by some large number of ponies.
Yes, you read that correctly. My toddler and I have gobbled up a large sum of roads throughout the Western United States. Our chariot eats about as much as 278 horses, and unless we stop every two hours to stretch our legs, we’re walking like we rode said horses. That’s eleven thousand miles, just the two of us, the open road, and sleeping under the stars.
“Why?” you may be gasping. “Just the two of you?” many have exclaimed while they witness us arguing while I’m setting up the tent, or cooking breakfast.
My response is always, “Why not?” and a whimsical, “Yes, just us.”
Regardless, however, always send prayers. My Threenager has wowed many people with his bargaining skills. I endure that alone.
We’ve driven from Denver to Los Angeles, then up the California coast via the Pacific Coast Highway. Together we saw Eastern Oregon for the first time, and Twin Falls in Idaho. We camped in Palo Duro Canyon and saw the Milky Way, and discovered what camping in humidity and heat is like (why???). This year alone we’ve seen Pink Sand, Green Sand, Black Sand, and White Sand, and if only we had a sled would have enjoyed the White Sand Dunes of New Mexico properly.
I’ve explained how the supply chain works to him. We’ve watched ships slowly drift into port. Seen the cranes unload cargo onto trucks and trains, and raced those very trains bearing the goods stacked two containers high across the plains. There were farms of turbines lazily spinning in the wind, and we talked about how electricity works. Bales of hay littered the fields, and we watched horses and cows eating that same hay. Endless rows of corn and cotton. Grapevines nestled amongst the trees near the Lost Coast. Tractors working the fields, all while I silently stewed over the modern farming practices. He doesn’t need to know that yet.
He helped dig our truck out of the sand when we got stuck. From the back seat, he helped me navigate through the (very dead) hollowed redwoods. When my very delicate sleeping pad sprung a leak, he told me we could call Rocky (from Paw Patrol) to fix it. When our battery was dead, he watched us get a jump, and another lesson on electricity ensued. Best of all, he understands that, “Real trucks don’t have spark plugs,” and that our truck uses gasoline.
He is endlessly disappointed we cannot use the ‘Green like Rocky’ diesel. Same, if we’re honest.
Now that we’ve returned from our latest three-week adventure, he is demanding we wash all the bugs off the grill. For someone who has absolutely trashed the backseat, he sure does demand a clean vehicle.
Despite all the challenges of traveling alone with a toddler, I wouldn’t ask for anything less. I certainly won’t stop doing it in the hopes of having someone else come along. Or, worse yet, let the fear of the thing stop us before we’ve left.
That’s a major part of having children, isn’t it? Especially amongst my generation. I won’t sit here and tell people to have children who have proclaimed to not want them; I’m not about that. But, to continue on my thought… the idea is that once you have a child, you can’t travel anymore, right?
The idea is that once you have a child, you can’t travel anymore, right?
Shoot, when I got pregnant, I went on a babymoon the likes of which most people have never had. Again, I traveled from the Mexican border to the Canadian border and even hopped a clipper plane over that odd, invisible line, only to drive back down to Los Angeles. Not to mention the same amount of insane mileage slapped onto my then-Ford Focus.
Now that he is here, however, I vow to never stop. How could I possibly? In the before times, I was known to hop on a plane, fly to another city, only to return home in time for a Christmas party. Once, I was in five different states in a week. You don’t take that level of flighty, nervous, travel energy out of a person.
And he is so much better from it, don’t you think?
This year he has conquered his fear of large bodies of water. Seen all the critters that live in tidepools (if you ever meet him, ask him what crabs say). We even saw wild sea otters! I probably liked them most.
We’ve been to two different Renaissance Festivals, and he is no longer afraid of large animals. At the Society of Creative Anachronism event in Texas, he got a hug from a horse. Excuse me while I console my jealous inner child.
The amount of crickets we’ve saved from hotels and the bathrooms in State Parks is amazing. What is cuter than a toddler laying down in front of a cricket and asking it how its day was? I’ll wait.
Not to mention a jumping spider visited us, and he happily held it.
Those are memories that we’ll both have forever. He might not remember them, but I’ll tell him the stories.
Those are memories that we’ll both have forever. He might not remember them, but I’ll tell him the stories.
It was while camping and road-tripping that we finally figured out the potty. Yes, he came back from a three-week whirlwind driving adventure pooping on the toilet.
“But, Michelle, what does he DO during those seven hours of driving?”
That’s my greatest pride. He plays with his toys. He colors. We talk. We sing. We look out the window and talk about what we’re seeing. He may still face backward (he’ll be that way until he’s five, it’s my neurotic motherhood choice), but we collectively get a 360-degree view, and boy do we see a lot.
The tablet occasionally comes out, sure, but only if we’re looking at really long drives. The upwards of eight or nine hours. Anything less than seven, nope.
Let’s also give a standing ovation to him, because he doesn’t sleep. If nap time comes, of course, he’ll konk out for an hour or so. Otherwise, he’s awake. Bet you can’t say that about your best friend, spouse, or whoever else you’re trucking along with. Best co-pilot award.
Travel is a learned skill. It’s not something you just wake up and decide to do. It’s a learning curve. It’s trial and error. It’s having plans epically fail on the spot and having to improvise or endure. At the end of it, you’ll always be able to look back and say, “Wow, I/we did that.”
It’s never too late to start, either. Start with a day trip. Then a weekend trip. Then a week. Leave a few comforts/safety nets each time. Overpack and under-pack. Jump on a plane to nowhere. Rent a car. Take your own car! Leave the beaten path and follow that random road or alleyway. Maybe you’ll have a good laugh when you have to turn around. I certainly do, and then get a solid grilling from the backseat about us being lost. Or you’ll see something really amazing.
Maybe you’ll have a good laugh when you have to turn around. I certainly do, and then get a solid grilling from the backseat about us being lost.
But, most of all, just do it if it’s what you want to do. With regards to travel, or anything else.
I may be a single mom, but I make it a point to remain my own person. My son is by far better for it. So don’t let a child slow you down. I’d be willing to bet they’ll happily come along for the journey if you let them learn along the way with you.
Admittedly, some days I do wonder if I’m selfish for dragging him along on my life’s adventure. Is it cruel that I lock him into a car seat and disrupt his routine on a whim?
That smile on his face when we caught a toad says otherwise. Plus, again, our daily routine was potty training misery.
We’ve met wonderful people along the way, too. I’ll tell you the story about how he sat on a stranger’s lap for an entire flight another time. All those things tell me otherwise, honestly. I think travel is the balm both our souls need.
So, what’s it like traveling 11,000 miles with just a toddler?
Breathtaking, with a few nights of mead with the girls because of the 11,000th why and the 11,000th argument. At the end of each day, he still tells me he loves me and plops his head in the crook of my arm, and that’s the best part about traveling with him.
Stay tuned for an update on getting him to stay in his sleeping bag when the temperatures drop below freezing. Current status: But why?
Curious about Michelle Piper? Learn more at www.writerpiper.com. Hint: she does fiction, too.
