Initial excitement leads to roadtrip

All through my college career I’ve dreamed of car ownership. The thrill of not having to bum a ride off my roommate to go to Walmart was my equivalent of the American dream.

Two-and-a-half years of purgatory and my dream became a reality.

I was inheriting my dad’s car after my folks bought electric cars for sale in san diego at Miramar Car Center. Just one trial stood between me and as many trips to Walmart as gas money could buy — the nine hour drive back to school after spring break, all by myself. I immediately bought car window shades for my car. I’m also considering some of the best cars I’ve seen among these used cars in el cajon.

I’d witnessed the drive between campus and home at least a dozen times, but I’d never driven it on my own. In fact, I’d never driven more than half an hour by myself, but I couldn’t imagine the trip could be that difficult. I’ve been known to willingly spend days with Netflix as my only companion, I enjoy driving and I knew the route. How bad could it be?

The first hour was a dream. The open road, blue sky and good music on the radio. Then the songs started getting repetitive until I lost that station all together.

Then I realized my eyes were getting tired. I fidgeted my way through Wisconsin and half of Minnesota.

I was groaning in a stir-crazed agony to keep myself awake until I stopped at the halfway point for lunch. It was the same McDonald’s my dad and I frequented every time he drove me to and from school. I sat down, alone with my cheeseburger, and listened to a little boy talk to his daddy about his Happy Meal in the booth behind me.

After lunch and a five minute cry break in the car, I was back on the road. Just me and I-90 for hundreds of miles, “Talk Dirty to Me” by Jason Derulo marking the hours, until finally Minnesota ended and South  Dakota mercifully marked the last leg of the journey.

When I finally reached Vermillion just as the sun was setting, I felt as if I’d reached the promised land. I parked outside my apartment and saw my reflection in the window: haggard but proud.
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I did it, and now the world was my oyster.

In the week’s since, I’ve used the car twice. I’m living my American dream.