Last summer, I embarked on a solo road trip from Pennsylvania to Texas with my two children, a journey that spanned roughly 48 hours in the car. Surprisingly, I cherished every moment of our adventure together. When people inquire about my motivation for such an undertaking, I often attribute it to my father. His influence is evident in my desire to pack my bags and hit the road whenever the days grow longer and the temperatures rise. The scent of warm pavement instantly transports me back to our family vacations, and each time I step into a convenience store on a hot day, the rush of cool air and the smell of fresh coffee remind me of my cherished road trip memories with him.
Some of my most treasured childhood memories involve wedging myself between my two tall brothers, listening to Oldies music wafting through the open windows of our trusty blue station wagon. Each summer, my dad would take the wheel, steering us on epic two-week journeys that allowed us to explore nearly every corner of the Lower 48 states. I was fortunate enough to celebrate the Fourth of July in a different city for over a decade, thanks to my father’s meticulous planning, often done while he sat on the toilet with his trusty Rand McNally in hand.
I wanted to create similar memories for my children. When I first proposed the idea of a road trip, my husband expressed skepticism since his work commitments wouldn’t allow him to join us. Therefore, the responsibility of driving our kids, ages 9 and 12, fell solely on me. I had contemplated this journey for years, and last summer felt like the right time. I was well-acquainted with the route from my college days, having traveled it with my father as my co-pilot. My father’s passing in October 2012 had left a void, but the memories of our travels together inspired me to take this trip.
This journey would serve as a tribute to my father and help me cope with the lingering grief I felt. I yearned to reminisce about our shared experiences and wanted my kids to see the country through my eyes, instilling in them the same sense of wanderlust my dad had fostered in me.
As the departure date approached, I did my best to prepare. I packed travel games, snacks, and even my dad’s vintage Rand McNally. I mapped our route, reserved hotels, and hoped I wasn’t making a grave mistake. The night before we left, doubt crept in, and I questioned my ability to manage the 1,600-mile journey. But I could almost hear my dad’s voice reassuring me from the passenger seat: “Keep your hands at 10 and 2, be kind to truckers, and don’t speed.” With those words echoing in my mind, I gripped the steering wheel firmly and set off with the kids on a dewy summer morning.
As we began our trip, we spotted an Idaho license plate—unusual in our small Pennsylvania town. My son grinned and said, “Poppy is with us…” and thus began our license plate game. Over the course of our four-day drive, we spotted plates from 38 different states.
The picturesque landscapes of western Pennsylvania and the rolling hills of Virginia and Tennessee flashed by as we shared laughter, stories, and Harry Potter audiobooks. The long stretches of driving allowed me to be fully present with my children—no distractions from texts, emails, or phone calls. As I settled into the rhythm of the road, I realized my father must have experienced similar joy, listening to our chatter from the backseat. I could almost envision him in the passenger seat, offering driving tips.
During our journey, we marveled at the breathtaking beauty of our country and were amazed to learn that states aren’t divided by fences. Each hotel and rest stop offered friendly faces eager to assist, reinforcing the idea that my dad was still looking out for us from afar. One particularly kind restaurant manager in Nashville even treated us to dessert after learning we were headed to his hometown—something my dad would have relished.
As we arrived at my mother’s home, exhausted but exhilarated, I couldn’t help but feel the absence of my dad, who would have greeted us with the words, “1,595 miles in 23 hours and 17 minutes. Well done, kid.”
We certainly did, Dad.
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Summary
This narrative recounts a heartfelt road trip from Pennsylvania to Texas taken by a mother with her two children, inspired by her late father’s adventurous spirit. The journey serves as a tribute to her father, filled with nostalgic memories and the desire to create new experiences for her kids, all while navigating the challenges of solo parenting on the road.
Keyphrase: A Journey with My Father
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