How to Embrace "the Ride"
As I embark on a kind of family road trip adventure from my new home in the iconic Las Vegas, NV, to the Grand Canyon with my doggo, Moses, my boyfriend, Chris, and his mom, Sue, I reflect on the days when this very life and lifestyle were only a figment of my wildest dreams. Now that this world of travel, adventure, and love is right before my eyes and all around me, I find myself closing off to the joy of it at times—fearful that the rug might be swept out from under me.
I’ve felt the ground disappear beneath me before. When I was younger, a hurricane ripped through my childhood home, leaving behind nothing but wreckage. Soon after, my parents’ marriage unraveled in the aftermath. In a few short months, everything I knew as familiar and secure was gone. Since then, I’ve subconsciously reinforced a sort of detachment. I’ve reminded myself not to get too happy or comfortable or trust anything too much. Love, security, happiness—they can all be snatched away in an instant.
This self-sabotaging frame of mind became even more pronounced when we stopped in the picturesque Wild West ghost town of Nipton, California, and began conversing with a woman whose motorcycle had broken down on the side of the road. Luckily, the arid climate wasn’t accompanied by too much wind today, as it so often can be in the southwestern American desert. This quiet town has nothing but a few shops I can count on one hand and a charming bed and breakfast called “Hotel California.”
I was immediately mesmerized by her bike. “Wow, what a beautiful bike! Do you live nearby?” I exclaimed.
“I’m on my way to Las Vegas to meet a group of my girls and broke down! But hey, if you ride long enough, you get used to it. Ain’t the first time, won’t be the last.”
The “biker lady,” Priscilla, informed us that she was a spry 77, a rancher, and, in my estimation, couldn’t have been taller than 5’2. She proudly sported a leather vest featuring the name and chapter of her motorcycle gang. “Women in the Wind – Cactus Cuties Chapter,” it read in baby blue writing. She wore a similarly colored undershirt, as well as rhinestones on her headband to coordinate. She was waiting for her daughter to drive an hour and a half with a spare battery and a trailer to troubleshoot and/or tow her bike.
After half an hour of being verbally guided through the adventure of her life—animated ranching and cross-country biking stories—it was clear that all of the excitement came with more than a fair share of adversity.
She had broken down many times in her day, both literally while on a bike ride and figuratively through the pain of losing her mother and husband to cancer. The most striking part of absorbing her presence was the awareness that she hadn’t let these hardships keep her from engaging with life with enthusiasm and audaciousness.
Hearing her speak, I felt a familiar ache, loss, and uncertainty. There’s a cruel way life can take without warning. I knew what it was like to stand in the wreckage of something that once felt unshakable. But where I had learned to brace for the next disaster, she had learned to keep riding.
Sue, my boyfriend’s mom—who also happens to be 77—chimed in, “Oh my, I’m a breast cancer survivor myself. I belong to a dragon boat racing team of breast cancer survivors over 60!”
Sue lives alone on a boat in Liverpool, UK, and handles all the maintenance herself, which isn’t easy. I remembered her telling me about a recent flood and the exhausting recovery process she had to overcome. Though she’s now an accomplished retired therapist, once upon a time, she had to start her life over in her mid-20s with three children, going back to school as a single mom—without even having any credit!
It dawned on me that these remarkable women before me had endured so much loss and strife, yet instead of closing themselves off from life and the world, they chose resilience and adventure! They faced their hardships and inconveniences head-on and kept going. They didn’t avoid relationships for fear of losing but rather embraced connection through community—and all of these things gave them a wellspring of life force to draw from.
I had spent so much of my life fearing loss that I hadn’t even considered the alternative—not just surviving it, but living beyond it. These women had every reason to close themselves off, to shield themselves from further pain. And yet, they didn’t. They leaned in. They chose adventure!
Ironically, I sense that it may, in fact, be adversity and loss that have caused them to integrate and embody the wisdom of the Carpe Diem philosophy.
As I step back into our car, I realize that maybe I’ve been looking at things all wrong. Maybe the secret to holding onto joy isn’t clinging to it in fear but embracing the road ahead—bumps, breakdowns, floods, and all.
