 |  | | Shannon and Nicole set out from central California in search of adventure. |
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My best friend Nicole and I drove around America for two months during the summer of 2003. We had both just graduated from college and were seeking freedom and adventure. Every day there was a new destination, and some days we just drove and let the destination find us. Every mile we drove away from home, the freer we felt.
Although I can recall many long days of driving and anticipation for our next arrival, it is the last leg of our adventure, the journey home to California, that stands out most vividly in my mind. This part of the long journey never gets told because when we talk about our trip, it always ends in San Antonio.
When we left our home on the central coast of California, my mother expressed doubts that we would ever return. She feared we would crash and die before ever making it to Maine, which was our furthest planned destination. Her other thought was that we would get bored of driving and come home early. To be honest, I had no intention of returning at all. I was on a quest to find a new place to call home.
|  | | | Shannon fulfills a lifelong dream by visiting Mount Rushmore in South Dakota. |
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We headed north to Seattle, where we caught a Mariners game at Safeco Field. We then headed east through Yellowstone and Mount Rushmore. We outran a tornado throughout the Midwest and paid homage to the baseball greats in Cooperstown, New York. When we arrived at the coast of Maine, we stuck our feet in the Atlantic Ocean, feeling very proud of ourselves for achieving our goal. I then sent three live Maine lobsters to my family back home so that my mom would know that we made it there alive.
After camping at Acadia National Park, we headed south to Boston, where we toured the local bars on a pub-crawl. We went to the Statue of Liberty because no trip around America would be complete without seeing Lady Liberty. We spent America’s birthday in Washington, DC, and stopped by Elvis’ pad in Memphis for a tour.
My Californian skin did not like the humidity of the South. We spent a night camping in a Louisiana swamp, where we pitched our tent next to a parade of RVs proudly waving Confederate flags. It was so hot and humid that as soon as I turned off the shower I was sweating. The air felt like it was dripping.
 | | | Mmm...fresh Maine lobster. |
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When we pulled up to the hostel in San Antonio, we had driven 13,988 miles. It was late at night and still sweltering hot, we were exhausted, and our room was on the third floor. We grabbed our overnight packs, our map for planning and our journal, and headed up to bed.
When we went to load up the next morning, we discovered the driver’s side window of our Toyota 4-Runner smashed to pieces and everything gone from our car. When the reality sunk in, it took my breath away. I felt too violated to cry and too angry to remain calm. The police came and the rest is just painful details I have tried to block from my memory. The most painful and irreplaceable item we lost was our digital camera with all of the pictures from our trip. Luckily, I had sent some digital photos to friends. We lost all of our clothes except those on our backs, which meant we had no clean underwear. What this all added up to for Nicole and I was: GAME OVER.
After Dumpster-diving in an unsuccessful search for any sign of our stuff, we left San Antonio without ever seeing the Alamo. We headed up to Austin, where Nicole had a family friend who fed us and gave us some cash as a loan to get home.
We left Austin around noon with the intention of driving straight home. We had no music, except the radio, which faded in and out of frequency. We had one credit card, which was almost maxed out. We had our map and a box of Vivarin. Our first mission was to cross the border out of Texas as soon as possible.
|  | | | Nicole is dwarfed by a giant cactus somewhere in the Southwest. |
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The drive across Texas was long and silent. The only thing I could think about was all the stuff that I had lost. Nicole and I barely spoke except a rare groan when one of us remembered something we loved that was now gone. My insurance had replaced the broken window so we could use the air conditioning, which was about the only positive thing we had. After all that had happened, there was still one thing worse. We had to go home early, the one thing we had vowed not to do. There would be no glorious arrival.
I was driving and Nicole was sleeping in the back when we crossed into New Mexico later that evening. I honked the horn in celebration. As the sun set, clouds covered the sky and a great storm passed over us. The lightning was awesome and terrifying at the same time. It shot through the sky and landed so close to the road I imagined that I could touch it. The storm followed us through New Mexico, but the sky cleared when we crossed into Arizona late that same night. We were 20 miles from Tucson, Ariz., when the 4-Runner started shaking. Our faithful friend was betraying us in our time of need. We saw it as a sign that we should pull over and rest. In two months of travel we had faced no problems; now it seemed like we were trapped in an obstacle course.
After visiting a mechanic, we left Tucson around 2 p.m. with the passionate intention of sleeping in our own beds that night. We had maxed out our credit cards to fix the car and had only cash left from the loan to get us home. All I remember seeing in Arizona were tall cacti as we raced along the roads. Our plan had been to see the Grand Canyon, but I drove past the exit. Driving through Arizona, inching toward California, I realized that I was nervous about arriving home. I felt like I’d failed, that I’d had an unsuccessful adventure. As my anxiety grew, my foot pushed down harder on the gas. When we crossed into California, my anxiety turned into excitement.
We stopped for gas just south of Los Angeles, which was a rude awakening. Gas prices in California were outrageous compared with the rest of the country. The cheapest gas we found throughout the whole trip was in Wyoming. The drive from L.A. to San Luis Obispo was agonizing. We were so close, but still so far away. We caught the tail end of rush hour and there were cars everywhere. I was restless and impatient. I am normally a pretty aggressive driver, but on that night I had full-blown road rage. I wished for every car on the road to pull over so that I could haul ass all the way home.
We arrived home about 72 hours after the estimated time of the robbery, two and half weeks earlier than our planned arrival. We had driven 15,845 miles around America from door to door. My emotions were so mixed I felt dizzy. On one hand I felt defeated, but on the other hand I was happy and relieved to be home again. In my search for somewhere better to live, I had found nowhere like home.
After hugs and cheers that we were home safe, I slept for the next 14 hours. I awoke refreshed and feeling proud of our achievement. Despite some setbacks, Nicole and I had seen America and had fun doing it. We had memories that will last a lifetime and stories to tell for years to come. If all these problems had to happen to us, I am forever grateful that they happened toward the end of our trip.
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