There’s a scene in the movie Clueless, when they accidentally merge onto the freeway. Screaming in fear they get up to speed, weave through traffic and promptly exit the madness.
We did the made-for-tv motorcycle-sidecar version of that today. Baylor slept through it, I let out a stream of expletives instead of screams and Rufio just carried on like normal.
While it got my heart racing, it was also a good reminder.
A reminder that there was a time when driving a car was nerve-racking. When going around the block, across town, on the highway was scary.
We all had to learn to drive a car. We didn’t let fear stand in our way. It was simply expected that we would figure it out. And we did.
So I channel that confidence, and perhaps naivety, I possessed learning to drive at 15 and am applying it to Rufio.
Winding through mountain passes under bluebird skies. Navigating stop-and-go traffic in search of wifi and supplies. Meandering down dirt roads. Resolutely climbing hills. Twisting, turning, shifting up, slowing down. Onward. Northward. Alaska bound.
The heat got the better of me and we settled for the evening after a relatively short day driving. A swim in the lake and we were ready to tackle pairing down the supplies. Everything spread on the tent it was easy to see. I could do without a pillow, one bowl would do, rotating two outfits the entire time is totally fine. The bird mask, slackline and pellet gun? Obviously those are staying. This is meant to be fun, after all.
Two days down. Many to come.