Last summer, I decided to embark on a solo road trip from Pennsylvania to Texas with my two kids. Yes, just me and the kiddos! Believe it or not, I cherished every single moment of the 48 hours we spent on the road together.
When folks ask me why I took on such a journey alone, I can’t help but point the finger at my dad. It’s his fault that every summer, as the days stretch longer and the temperatures rise, I feel an irresistible urge to pack up and hit the highway. The scent of sun-warmed asphalt sends me spiraling back to those family road trips of my youth. And every time I step into a convenience store on a scorching day, the blast of cool air and the aroma of fresh coffee bring a smile to my face, as if my dad is nudging me to reminisce about our adventures.
Some of my best childhood memories are of wedging myself between my two towering brothers, listening to the sweet sounds of oldies pouring in through the open windows. Every summer, Dad would steer our trusty blue station wagon on epic two-week vacations that eventually led us to explore all of the contiguous United States. I was lucky enough to celebrate the Fourth of July in a different city each year, thanks to Dad’s meticulous six-month planning sessions—often while he was sitting on the john, armed with his trusty Rand McNally.
I wanted my kids to experience that magic too.
When I first shared my ambitious road trip idea with my husband, he raised an eyebrow. With his vacation time not aligning, I was set to travel solo with our 9 and 12-year-olds. But the desire to drive down to my mom’s place in Texas had been bubbling up for years, and last summer felt like the perfect opportunity. I knew the route well, having made the trek many times before with my dad as my co-pilot. After he passed away in October 2019, the familiarity of that journey felt like the comforting nudge I needed to push ahead.
I was sure this trip would not only help me honor my dad’s memory but also ease the lingering sadness in my heart. I longed for that time on the road, to revisit the places we once stood together and to ignite a sense of wanderlust in my kids, just like my dad had done for me.
As the departure date neared, I prepared diligently—packing travel games, snacks, and my dad’s vintage Rand McNally. I mapped out our route, booked hotels in advance, and kept my fingers crossed that I wasn’t making a huge mistake. The night before our journey, a wave of panic washed over me, and doubt crept in. But I could almost hear my dad’s advice from the passenger seat: “Just keep your hands at 10 and 2, be nice to the truckers, and watch your speed.” With that mantra echoing in my mind and my hands firmly gripping the wheel, the kids and I pulled out of the driveway on a chilly summer morning.
As we turned onto the local highway, an Idaho license plate caught our eye—definitely not common in Pennsylvania! My son chuckled and said, “Poppy is with us…” and just like that, the license plate game was on. Over our four days of travel, we spotted plates from 38 different states!
The picturesque rolling hills of Pennsylvania and the stunning mountains of Virginia and Tennessee zipped past our windows. We shared laughs, swapped stories, counted license plates, and listened to Harry Potter audiobooks. Those long stretches of driving forced me to be fully present with my kids—no texting, no emails, and no phone calls. As I settled into the rhythm of the road, I savored every moment, realizing my dad must have felt the same way while we chatted in the backseat during our family trips.
Throughout our journey, we marveled at the breathtaking beauty of our country, and my kids were astounded to learn that state lines aren’t actually physical barriers. Every hotel and rest stop was staffed by friendly people, making this mother’s adventure just a bit smoother—a little reminder that my dad was still watching over us. I’ll never forget the kind restaurant manager in Nashville who treated us to dessert after learning we were headed to his hometown. My dad would’ve found that delightful.
When we finally pulled into my mom’s driveway, both exhausted and exhilarated, the only thing missing was my dad ready to greet us with a proud, “1,595 miles in 23 hours and 17 minutes. You did good, kid.”
And you know what? We really did, Dad.
Summary:
In this heartfelt reflection, Emily Johnson shares her solo road trip from Pennsylvania to Texas with her two kids, inspired by her late father. As she navigates the journey, she recalls cherished memories of family vacations and aims to create similar experiences for her children. With humor and nostalgia, Emily captures the essence of adventure, connection, and the lasting impact of her father’s love for the open road.