Life High on the Highway.

Don't you just love road-trips?  With my recent car swapping activities, I was given the task of transporting Marsha back up to the PNW for pickup by my father, whom she will now serve.

Did you know it's 1,135 miles from LA to Seattle?  Last week, I made the 18 hour drive up the Best Coast.  It was delightful.  I realize that, to most, the very thought of spending an entire day would conjure thoughts of suicide.  But you've never road-tripped with me!

Road-tripping with Mingni:

I listen to horrible music while road-tripping.  Seriously.  It's a nonstop spin of country, Celine Dion, and any other 90s pop I dig out of my CD collection prior to departure.  I bellow Spice Girls and wail along to Hootie and the Blowfish the entire way.

I don't stop for food.  Fast food is gross and I don't get hungry while road-tripping.  Weird, eh? I just pack snacks and stay high on coffee.  You know, healthy-like.

You can keep your fancy GPS.  This girl was trained for the highway on a Road Atlas, and that's just how I like it.  I love propping that huge spiral bound book on the steering wheel and doing all of the distance calculations by mile marker.  I love tracing the state highways I pass to see where they lead.  I like knowing the elevations of the mountains that I drive past.

I like driving alone.  The gross, selfish human in me likes not having to be concerned with anyone else's agenda but my own.  I pee when I WANT TO.  I play whatever disgusting music I want to sing LOUDLY to.  I make phone calls.  I talk out loud to myself.  I giggle as I try to recite poetry I memorized in high school (I never saw a moor, I never saw the sea.....)

I do some heavy thinking.  There is something very satisfying about driving alone, over long distances.  The progression is very apparent, and you're very aware of milestones and your accomplishments.  I make short term goals to make it to certain spots in a certain amount of time.  I do lots of mental math.  I recall specific stopping points that I have driven past previously, and feel pride in remembering exit numbers and town names.

I get reflective.  Prior to this trip, every long drive I have done has been a runaway of sorts for me.  It's quite difficult to describe; the feeling of packing up and leaving a place entirely with the anticipation of starting anew somewhere foreign and far away.  On these long drives between assignments, it was inevitable for me to think back on that place, the events and people I was leaving behind.  I've become quite addicted to that feeling.  Isn't there something so powerful about being the One who leaves, who scampers off in search of something new and (probably) better?  It's my favorite thing.  Since I have been in LA for so long now and have no plans for leaving at this moment, I have missed these runaways!

OK, so I just read back all of that and it's totally for the best that I do all of this alone.  Otherwise you all would be pushed over the Mingni-limit and discontinue your associations.  Be thankful I get all of that nonsense done without accompaniment.