17 July 2021 – Every epic road trip has the perfect shotgun rider. BJ had Bear, Elwood had Jake, Fozzie had Kermit, Louise had Thelma, Charlie Babbit had his brother Raymond, and Bandit had Carrie. My shotgun rider is a small ninja doll I got at my very first stop on this trip, Breckenridge. I named her Anna after the girl who inspired me to be a ninja. Anna hangs from the passenger side sun visor where I can see her all the time. Who would have thought a little doll about the size of a Christmas tree ornament would make such a big difference in my road trip. This trip has been much more lonely than I ever imagined. My shotgun rider makes days better, but she doesn’t solve all of my problems.

The novelty of always being alone has worn off, especially at mealtime. When I go into a restaurant, if available, I try to sit at the bar because I hate to take up the tablespace. Plus, if I sit at the bar, I usually get better service and sometimes I get a little bit of conversation. Another difficulty for me is that many special restaurants I want to try only take reservations for two or more. More often than not I don’t even eat meals and instead eat what I have, peanut butter crackers, candy and nuts, because I just don’t feel like being that woman eating by herself and looking awkward. Of course, being afraid to look awkward means that I don’t always eat as I should. This is just one reason that a road trip alone isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. My shotgun rider doesn’t really help here because she doesn’t eat.

Through each city and town, national park and beach, one thing has remained constant, I am the only person I ever see that is alone. Everyone Is either park or a couple, a family or a group. How can I be the only person traveling alone? It seems completely unlikely that I can be the only person traveling alone, but I haven’t run into a single person who is alone. This fact alone makes me feel awkward and even more lonely. How can I be so pathetic? I don’t actually feel pathetic. That was just me being melodramatic. When I do start to feel even a little bit pathetic, I

The hardest part of traveling alone is that there is no one to share it all with. If I see something that I find exceptionally beautiful, like the Painted Desert, there is no one to share it. I can take pictures, but they just don’t capture the true beauty. It’s one of those things that just has to be experienced. The magnitude of the Grand Canyon can’t be captured in a photograph. It’s just too large. As I have traveled, I have found myself turning to my right to tell someone to look because there is something magnificent to see. Fortunately, my shotgun rider is there, so I am not just talking to myself. It’s not the same as sharing it with a person, though.