“When the locals ask “But…why are you here”? You know you’ve strayed from the road most travelled. ‘Here’ was Saltilo, Mississippi and indeed why was I here? I hadn’t planned to be here but on this 64 day, solo road trip from New York to San Francisco. I hadn’t done much planning at all, particularly for anything west of Nashville, and as someone who loves a good plan but is also an exceptional procrastinator, my route plotting experience spurned an ongoing inner conflict between the fastidious side of me and the side that just wants to watch TV.”
“As I was driving up towards Asheville, I was just listening to music and thinking. Dwelling on how stupid I was for making that call, and just angry in general with myself for still being so upset about a breakup six months later. It was at that point I decided that that was it. I was going to take control.”
“Staying home in Los Angeles was unthinkable. More to the point, staying away from Vegas was unacceptable. The Mount Vesuvius-evocative barometric conditions were a paltry deterrent from my goal, an obstacle easily dismissed with one toss of my wind-bedraggled hair. I had to get to Las Vegas. I had to get back with the missing chunk of myself. I had to be reunited with my heart.”-Nichole Joor
“Cab. Bus station. Tickets. Snacks.
Before any of us have a chance to catch our breath, we are sitting across from each other on a midnight bus from Toronto to Montreal. I am drunk. I have no phone charger with me, but what I lack in electronics I make up for in a cosmetics bag complete with deodorant and a toothbrush.”
“Did I really want to wait that long? Could I? In that moment I realized that there had always been and would always be reasons not to go. Did I want to wake up 3, 5, 10 years later wondering what would have/could have happened?”