This is a story that could only happen on the road. And probably only after a good 2,000 miles or more. It’s a story worth remembering. But maybe you had to be there. This is the story of how we uncovered who we are.
It started with a spaceship.
It was strapped down to the bed of a very large semi-truck one car ahead of us, and it was blocking the road. Literally. Its two escorts had flanked it on either side and stopped, doors open, lights flashing.
One man jumped out of his truck, climbed up on the contraption, and started fiddling with something. The spaceship started rocking back and forth. We figured that wasn’t a good sign. We scratched our heads and waited patiently for them to continue driving. The third time they pulled this stunt, however, we started bringing up words like “CIA” and “government conspiracy.”
We didn’t know much. All we knew was it went exactly 15 mph under the speed limit. Which, when the sign said 35, wasn’t very fast. It had at least four escorts that all blared, “WE VALUE SAFETY!” And it had to swerve - very slowly swerve - to avoid overhanging tree branches.
We pulled out our smart phones and started looking up mysterious headlines for small towns in Ohio.
Twenty minutes later, we were starting to get a little bored. Thirty mph is not fun. Especially when you still have 60 miles to go. They couldn’t keep this up for that long, could they? The truck was going to turn, wasn’t it?
And then we had a great idea. Did I say great? I meant brilliant. It was the sort of idea Indiana Jones would get while sweeping away down a raging river of death and destruction. Why wait in traffic behind this very slow-moving, likely-to-be-blown-up-at-any-moment unidentified non-flying object? Why not pass it? I mean, we couldn’t pass on the left side of the road, not with the escorts blocking traffic. But what if we turned on a side street? What if we sped down a parallel road, then turned back onto the main drive ahead of the semi?
Like I said. Brilliant.
The car ahead of us was piloted by an older, grandmotherly figure. She had the same idea. She put her blinker on and carefully turned onto a side street. I gunned the engine and tore after her.
“Recalculating,” our GPS warned. “Recalculating!”
We ignored him. Lisa pulled up a map on her phone and started directing me through the town’s streets. All four of them. They ended in a corn field. We turned right. Five blocks, then another corn field. We turned right again.
The main road was up in front of us. Oh, so close . . . Oh, so far away!
“Go!” Lisa shouted. “Go, go, go!”
Teri was sleeping in the back seat. Or she was until we started careening through this tiny town, breaking speed limits and taking corners on two wheels. (That might be a slight exaggeration.) She woke up with one thought blasting through her mind. We are about to die in my mom and dad’s minivan. I gotta be awake to see this!
Half a block from the main road, we spotted the spaceship. On the right, barreling towards us at about 3 ½ mph. From the left, a line of cars raced to barricade us. We had all of two seconds to pull out in front of everyone. If we didn’t make it, we were going to be waiting on absolute miles of traffic backed up behind the semi.
One little red stop sign stood in our way.
For half a second, I seriously considered obeying the law.
“Go!” Lisa yelled. “Go!”
“What is going on?” came Teri’s voice from the back seat.
I gripped the steering wheel with both hands and ran the stop sign. Goodbye, government conspiracy. Goodbye, endless line of slow-moving cars. Goodbye, spaceship.
So, who are we? We’re crazy, intentional nomads who love sitting upside-down on couches and hate road construction. We believe in making friends and memories and asking, “Can we pray for you?” We burst into random song. We start twitching when we spend too much time in the car. Or when we drink too much coffee. And occasionally, we get so excited we forget to stop at stop signs.
What’s your identity?
