It's hard to believe it's been a month since Nerd and I went on our fourth annual road trip. I spend months working on plans, building up the anticipation of experiencing a week's worth of building memories. And now, it sits in our rearview mirror. I'm happy to have the kind of child who will bring up these trips at random: a memorable restaurant, a quirky cashier, or simply repeating her gratitude for a souvenir we purchased. Every trip has surpassed our expectations, and I'm glad to have found a travel activity that we can do together when the funds are there to spend.
I shamefully haven't written on this platform since the last time we putzed around in a rental car. An entire year. My apologies.
Actually, forget the shame. I have been working on another writing project that keeps me pretty busy.
Each time we set our road trip plans, Nerd and I aim for a cluster of states we haven't visited together. "Together" being the key word here because with me being nearly 30 years older than the offspring, you could say I got a head start on seeing various parts of our country. So our agreement was to see as many states as we can before she graduates high school, the ultimate goal being to visit all 50. Date of completion has yet to be determined, all riding on where everyone is living and what funds are available for souvenirs and hotel rooms with a potential view. Is it fair to assume that at some point, Nerd might be making enough money to treat her mother to one of these trips? Although, I think I'd be more excited if she was able to share the driving responsibilities.
With our tradition of taking road trips helping us to add colored pins on our US map, we also added the tradition of collecting songs from strangers. It was one that I cannot take credit for creating. When we found the idea on Tiktok a year ago, we knew we had to give it a shot.
Now when we choose a group of states to which we travel, we tell ourselves that asking strangers for songs will be a simple task because...well, strangers will simply exist wherever we go. Except we add a couple of qualifiers: we have to engage with the strangers in some way, and the strangers have to have some level of "coolness" to them. This just means we have to like their vibe and like them enough in a conversation that clocks in at under three minutes. To be truthful, not every stranger makes the cut. But when they do, we come at them with our loosely-prepared presentation of: "Hey, we're on our annual joy ride around the US, and we were hoping you might give us a song to listen to when we're cruising the last leg."
For the most part, strangers comply and offer their song with great joy.
This year, we hit four Midwest states: Arkansas, Missouri, Kansas, and Oklahoma. We felt the difference from last year's tour through the Northeast immediately. The destinations on this year's itinerary were just so damn far apart. Driving the nearly 6 hours from Little Rock to St. Louis didn't give us the same access to human interaction as walking the streets of NYC. So we would have lengthy periods of little to no outside human contact (well, contact that lasted over 3 minutes). I think our longest stretch between asking strangers for a song was just over 24 hours. But the interactions with the strangers this year were still worthy of a short narrative. Because like I said a year ago, collecting songs from strangers while you venture through this world is worth the effort.
The most nerve-wracking act was merely starting the list. Struggling with a little social anxiety, Nerd didn't want to be the one to ask a stranger first. We had already been through strangers who drove us to the airport from the off-campus parking and the desk manager at our first hotel. They qualified, but she couldn't muster the courage. Right as we were settling into our hotel room, we were hit with a rough thunderstorm. It was an opportunity for me to write and Nerd to watch a little TV. The storm let up with plenty of time to venture on foot for a hot meal. We found a restaurant a block from the Arkansas River with a strong Athens vibe in both decor and patrons. So we both knew this would be where the list would have its inception. When I started to ask our server for a song, Nerd stepped in to take over the cause. We had our first song: "Birds of a Feather" by Billie Eilish.
Our route took us to St. Louis where Nerd would lay her eyes on the Big Muddy for the first time. We had reservations with a dinner cruise that would take us up and down the river. A ragtime duo performed crowd-pleasing covers while diners got to see the Gateway Arch at sunset and industrial barges being pushed in the dark. Nerd grabbed our travel journal to ask the band members for their songs. I watched her through the doors to the boat's bow as she asked, the band members clearly touched to be approached by a preteen with a conversation that didn't include a "bruh" or "gyat". I wasn't surprised when their songs were standards from the jazz era. What did surprise me was that they didn't name particular artists. And there were so many who covered the standards. This would be our first experience with having choice in adding songs to the list.
When we stopped to see the Botanic Garden at Oklahoma State University in Stillwater, we encountered three strangers who would give us FIVE songs. I approached when one of them wondered aloud about a bright pink flower she was admiring. I recognized it from a recent transplant my mom had given me, so I offered the woman its name (it was rose campion, in case you're wondering). She thanked me and walked away repeating the name over and over so she could search for it for her own garden. We saw the group again when Nerd was playing on the treehouse playscape near the parking lot. The woman was still repeating the name of the flower to herself, laughing at herself when she and I caught eyes again. We ended up in conversation with all three for nearly an hour. Learning we were from Georgia, they started their contributions with Otis Redding's "Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay", and they ended with the rose campion woman singing "Summertime" from Porgy and Bess.
We also had classical music added to our list, another first. It was at our bed and breakfast in Kansas City. We asked the innkeeper if he would offer us a song. He pondered for a moment, then he asked if classical music would be ok. But then he couldn't settle on one. He named several composers: Mozart, Beethoven, Tchaikovsky, giving each one credit for the calm they bring him during stressful events in his life. So he told us to pick one (our second time having input on this quest). While we packed up our suitcases, I played a couple of clips of pieces for Nerd to help us make our choice. We went to turn in our key, and we told Pedro we had chosen"Requiem in D Minor" by Mozart. He smiled in support of our choice. "You chose one with vocals. I love that."
By the time we were making that final drive home, we had most of our list for that reflection time that made me so emotional last year. We were still waiting on two songs from strangers we had encountered on the property of our favorite night from our trip.
It was from our stay in the Ozarks. Before our trip, I had given Nerd a short list of Airbnb cabins to choose from for our one night there. She chose the cabin that was the most remote (as in we lost cell service on one of the "main" roads getting there and still had to drive down 6 miles of dirt road). It was built right on a wide creek below a cow pasture. Between the front porch view of the water and a field full of tall grass and wildflowers, it made me long for an entire week at this property. Wifi was our only connection to the outside world. And after being there for only an hour, it went out. The owner (a former music educator who is roughly my age) and her mom came to check on us. They rolled up in a sturdy farm truck, and the owner's dog came bounding toward us to ask for belly rubs. The mother was visiting from the coast of Texas, vowing her love for the remoteness of her daughter's life and lamenting her husband's discomfort with it. Nerd said, "You tell him that if a preteen girl can love being out here without all that tech stuff, then a grown man can, too." The mother whooped and poked at the air with her index finger, justified in her connection to this place. "I like you. I'm going to tell my husband you said that!" Nerd actually curtsied in response.
Our wifi was later restored, and the owner messaged me to check in. I mentioned our strangers' playlist and asked for a song from her and her mother. They were both very excited to give us their song choices. They just wanted some time to think on it. Thus, the delay in getting their choices to us. Our final first in this year's act of collecting, but well worth the wait.
Given the time, I'd write a short essay about each encounter with the strangers who vulnerably indulged us a piece of themselves for this list. The young man whose song made him think of his girlfriend. The middle-aged mom who sacrificed her whole life for her kids whose song was just for her as she started her drive to work each day. The elder national park volunteer who hesitated momentarily because he figured we were too young to appreciate his love for Led Zeppelin.
Music is deeply personal to so many. We recognize how significant that is, especially when the inquiring and the inquired come to realize that at the end of the brief exchange of joy, their paths will never cross again. A gift that comes in no box, a permanent attachment due to ephemeral encounters.
I sometimes let the ugly side of humanity eat away at my joy. I think we all do. Stories that tell of humans being good to one another simply for the sake of being good can restore faith in humanity, and I feel this small, simple act helps me to fill my cup. So just like last year, we encourage this form of connection with the world. It's worth it.
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