Whirlwind
“Remember when you were a kid and you’d spend the whole year waiting for summer vacation—and when it finally came, it would fly by just like that? It’s funny, Jimmy. Life has a way of flying by faster than any old summer vacation ever fucking does.”
—Easy Wind
Dear Chewey—
After a month on the road, I’ve arrived in Central Point, Oregon, where I’ll call home for the next several weeks.
I’ve done the math, so you don’t have to. Since returning from Las Vegas on March 23rd, here’s the journey:
Hotels stayed in: 23
National Parks visited: 5 (Smoky Mountains, Hot Springs, Mammoth Cave, Mount Rushmore, Shenandoah)
Cities stayed in: Wichita, Little Rock, New Orleans, Pensacola, Chattanooga, Knoxville, Nashville, Lexington, White Sulphur Springs, Warrenton, Washington DC, Baltimore, Richmond, Wilmington, Myrtle Beach, Savannah, Gautier, Hot Springs, Kansas City, Chicago, Minneapolis, Rapid City, Windsor, Los Alamos, Las Vegas, and Reno.
States driven through: New Mexico, Colorado, Kansas, Oklahoma, Louisiana, Alabama, Mississippi, Florida, Arkansas, Tennessee, Kentucky, West Virginia, Virginia, Maryland, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, Missouri, Illinois, Minnesota, South Dakota, Wyoming, Nevada, California, and Oregon.
Miles driven: 9,389 (for perspective: I could’ve crossed the U.S. coast to coast 3.3 times with that mileage)
Friends made: Dozens
As I settle into life in Oregon for the next three months, before heading to Denmark on September 7th, it’s hard not to reflect on the lessons I’ve learned, the people I’ve met, and the things I’ve seen over the last twelve weeks.
Here’s what I think: say yes to all of it. Every time I thought, “I don’t think I’m up for that,” I did it anyway—and every experience brought me joy. Even the ones that didn’t go as planned, let alone perfectly.
Whenever my mind began to race about the things I needed to do, the mistakes and regrets I’ve held onto for too long, or what my life might look like when this whole ride is over, I’d turn on some music, look out the window, and the noise would fade. I talked a lot during this trip, but, mostly, I listened. I dove into the lives of others, and listened intently to their journeys, and consequently my own life’s distractions disappeared.
I’ve been called everything from beautiful and amazing to creepy. I’ve laughed, and I’ve cried. I’ve engaged with deep thinkers and pot-heads. I’ve done laundry in coin-ops. I’ve met people who’ve lost children and others who were celebrating marriages; people who just got fired and those getting promoted. Those who saved lives and those who believe the earth is flat. I’ve taken ferries. I’ve been hot, and I’ve been freezing. I’ve gambled. I’ve eaten the best and worst food in the U.S. I’ve watched amateur soccer, seen concerts, and went to Wrigley to watch the Cubs play. I crashed an 18-year-old’s birthday party. I’ve stayed nights with strangers and friends. I’ve been locked out of homes I was invited into (ha! that was a mistake). I’ve been pulled over by DC police. I’ve witnessed car wrecks. I’ve done my homework throughout. I’ve listened to a half dozen books on Audible and countless hours of music and talk radio.
Through it all, the sun always rose in the east and set in the west. Life will continue long after I’m gone. And all of this makes me think of the most amazing quote I’ve ever read, scribbled on nothing more than a cocktail napkin:
“Whose fucking permission are you waiting for? Go do your thing. You’re gonna die.”
Life is fast, Chewey. People will tell you that your entire life, and you won’t believe it. You’ll even dismiss it as a cliché. But it’s true—life goes by like a 4th-grade summer vacation.
