I have always struggled with stillness. When I was young, my right leg would bounce uncontrollably, rustling the sheets at night.
I was in high school when I first heard a starting gun: It rang, I moved. I traded Long Island for California; after graduation, I raced back to New York City to write.
There was a life path I felt expected to follow — attend college, enter the workforce, get married, get serious. The contrarian in me tried to fight this by studying poetry, partying, and avoiding serious relationships.
By the final year of my graduate program, I felt accomplished but stuck, with a general malaise toward following the “next steps.”
It was amid this coming-of-age anxiety that I met my now-partner on a crowded dance floor in New York City.
At 23, I’d never dated anyone seriously — or, frankly, wanted to — until I laid my eyes on Luke, who would make me feel like all the gates were swinging open.
Within a week of our first meeting, Luke asked me out on a proper date. We met at a dive bar and kept seeing each other, bonding over mob movies, rock bands, and Indian takeout.
Less than a year into our relationship, we decided to leave New York City and live on the road
Celebrating our six-month anniversary, Luke and I were on a road trip to the Carolinas, contemplating our post-graduate options. I’d be graduating from my MFA program in a month, and Luke was deciding whether to go back to school.
“How do you pick a place to live or settle down?” I asked as we crossed into Virginia. “I want to live everywhere.”
“We could do that, you know,” Luke said. “Just live in Airbnbs or something and not look back.”
Luke had lived in New York for six years and said he felt ready for a change of pace. He wanted to see the country, and he knew he wanted to be together.
I’ve always envied his sense of certainty. Could it be that simple?
Immediately upon our return to New York, we started planning how to make this daydream a reality. First, we sent out job applications for remote positions.
Then, I politely begged my extremely generous mother if I could borrow her car. She works remotely and lives with my two aunts, who each have their own cars, so she agreed to hand us the keys in August.
At this point, we had about four months until we planned to hit the road, full-speed ahead.
From there, the contours of our trip began to take shape. We secured remote work and spent the summer building a financial cushion before hitting the road.
Our plan was simple: leave New York, focus on adding more freedom into our daily lives, and travel for at least a year with no fixed route.
We encountered a lot of challenges, but they brought us closer together
Friends and family thought we’d lost it. What if we broke up? What about the opportunities we were potentially missing out on in New York?
When I think about it now, I realize how large a leap of faith this decision actually was, especially 10 months into our relationship and in a competitive job market.
Our first few weeks came with a learning curve, but Luke and I learned to work the road trip like a muscle, living with just the essentials, packing up our belongings every few weeks, and taking life one night at a time.
As far as mapping out the trip went, we kept things loose. There were a few places we knew we wanted to visit: Luke had cousins with a beach house in Destin, and I had family friends in New Mexico.
The biggest adjustment for me, though, was learning to roll with uncertainty — hitting the road without a booked stop and trusting that a great experience or local tip would point us in the right direction.
If we loved a place, we’d simply extend our stay on Airbnb. It was that easy.
Over the course of the year, I discovered my own resilience — and the strength of our relationship, too
In total, we traveled over 16,000 miles, visited 30 states, and toured countless cities.
We walked in a Mardi Gras parade and sledded down dunes at White Sands National Park. We swing danced in Nashville. We stayed in Earthships, condos, and shipping containers. We caught up with old friends and met new ones.
There were challenges we overcame, too. We were driving to our Asheville Airbnb when we learned the extent of Hurricane Helene’s destructive path, and had to change cities on a day’s notice.
We survived a dust storm in New Mexico that almost drove us off the road, but found some southern comfort in Mesilla.
After a year on the road, Luke and I decided to head back to New York and move in together. Although this is our home base right now, I can’t say we’ll be here forever — we’re already planning our next grand road trip.
Ironically, this road trip was the first time I learned what it truly meant to slow down. That lesson, I discovered, could translate to love. There was no rush to decide “next steps”: The starting gun could sound, but I didn’t always have to listen.
I’ve learned I should go when it’s time to, and stay when I’m enjoying the here and now. Sometimes, it really is as simple as standing in a field in Montana, and telling your partner: “You want to go to Los Angeles? We could be there by Tuesday.”
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