My brother. He’s a gem.
He’s also incredibly smart. At 7:30 pm, an alarm goes off. It’s the goddess, Bey, singing “I’m feeling myself, I’m feeling myself.” At this point, every single night, my brother decides how the rest of his night is going to go. Is he going to turn up, or chill out?
At 8 am, I began my journey westward, back to Denver. To do so, I channeled my wise little (21 years old) brother. As I sipped my coffee, before even turning onto the highway, I was whispering “I’m feeling myself.”
Why in the world did I do this? Because I knew I’d need the encouragement. Only Beyoncé can amp you up for a 1,300-mile road trip, alone, spread over two days. Still, 20+ hours of driving is rough.
I took this journey upon myself because my father gave me his old car. By old, I mean pretty new, which saves me from what could become a financial annoyance. It was an awesome thing for him to do, and am I by no means asking you to feel sorry for me. I’m a lucky girl. But hear my mantra!
“I’m Feeling Myself”
Starting in Cleveland, I made my way along Lake Erie, under Detroit, and by Chicago. Once you’re about 50 miles outside of Chicago on I-80 W, everything starts to get more scenic.
The smell of burning rubber, excessive use of the middle-finger, and all rest stops with gas stations disappear. Things get rural. I saw a lot of horse trailers and cargo buses. The signs change too, pointing out camping spots, and the mileage to the next rest stop. Also known as, the miles my body is going to ache until I get to stand up.
Day 1 goes better than I could have imagined. I’ve done this drive a few times, and it has never gone this well. I’m optimistic.
“I’m Feeling Myself”
I stop halfway because I already feel like a zombie, who’s been run over and shot at, but still has that swaggery dedicated shuffle. Yep, that’s me.
I stay in a nice hotel because I need to feel spoiled. It’s been a long day. I get a room with 2 double beds because even my suitcase and backpack are tired, and I’m not sharing my bed with them. Bedtime begins at around 7:15 pm, after I’ve chugged water and mentally prepared myself for round two, which is approaching quickly.
“I’m Feeling Myself”
Good thing Iowa and Nebraska have pleasant farm sceneries being interrupted by windmills. They’re one of the most exciting parts of my day — of this whole drive really. As the sun rises, it tints the giant energy-savers, giving them just a touch of pink.
Want to know what pisses me off? When someone interrupts my 238-mile cruise-control streak. Want to know what’s worse? Getting a visit from Aunt Flo in a gas station bathroom. Please universe, kick me while I’m down.
About 3 hours from Denver, I’m feeling antsy. Being in a car for so many hours will do that to a person. Of course, 60 miles away, I have to stop for gas. Go figures. I’m told by the clerk that I look 18, and he asks if I’m in college (I’m wearing a Boulder sweatshirt). I laugh. This is not a time for compliments. I’m so close to home!
“I’m Feeling Myself”
Nothing is better than opening the door when you get home. There’s a brief second, where everything is still. Then, it breaks! There’s the cutest puppy, barking first before she recognizes me and suddenly turns into a cuddly defensive lineman.
I’m on the floor, being smothered in puppy kisses.
Beer in hand, I’m home and surrounded by love. I am 1000% feeling myself.