Preface to a Long Thought

How does my future transportation affect this moment?

On Monday, Nathan and I are embarking on a road trip. A month of van riding and music listening, hiking and the building up and breaking down of my parents' old purple tent, eating trail mix and tuna fish and canned soup and seeing the ocean.

Future transportation. Sitting in the passenger seat. Mostly. Because I love sitting next to Nathan while he does something as simple as driving on the highway. He's just so good at it. One of my mom's friends said this trip will either "make or break" my relationship with Nathan, a comment I've heard more than once, and I wonder what exactly that means. Talitha said today, as she transported me via her white Toyota to my grandma's house, that the trip can't "make" Nathan and my relationship, because the relationship is already sort of made, and furthermore, does surviving this trip with Nathan mean that the relationship can't break after just because we lasted a month sleeping on hard ground together? The answer to that, as unsettling and honest as it is, is of course no.

But yes, this month of transportation could definitely break us.

And there's not much to be said of that. Going on a trip as intense as this could be asking for a break up, but here's the thing: I still went to Israel even though there are constant car bombs, I still went to Spain even though I could have gotten mugged, I still went to New York even though I could have gotten lonely. And there were bombs in Israel, I was robbed in Spain, and I got lonely as hell at times in New York.

So, you go. You go on the trip, take the risk, hope you're a better person because of it. Hope you come out stronger.

I'm so ready to move on, out, around. So ready to travel, I can barely stand it. My heels are itching. And this is the first time I've traveled with anyone. I mean, as an adult, a full human being, this is the first time. And I don't think I could have chosen a better partner for it.

If I Had a Nickle

Back to the bus. Yeah I know I promised big things. We were going to move to a strict diet of walking, longboarding, van-riding, but tonight I bolted to catch the 10. Eastward home. Left the comedy club downtown where Talitha's friends were trying their hand at improvisation, and paid my $2 fare. Yes, Wendy, I paid this time; didn't use my expired pass. Used cash, sat in the fifth row on the left, kept to myself. A man got on around Corona Street and told the driver he didn't have enough money. Brought out a roll of nickles and dropped a few in the cash box. He lingered at the front a moment too long and the driver pushed him back. He sat near the front, and spoke to every single person around him, eyes wide open. "I know you, sister," he said to the women, and "We are brothers," he said to all the men. He said to the young man reading his book, "Brainiac. Hey brainiac, how'd you learn to read?" No one around him made eye contact, but I kind of couldn't help it. He didn't look at me for a minute, but then, once he caught my eyes, he wouldn't let go. We had to stare at each other. He said, "Sister, I know you, and you goina be okay. Just let it happen, sister, don't have to worry about it, trust me, sister, you goina be okay." He kept talking, I got up to exit, and walking down dark 12th Street, I thought, Yeah, crazy man thinks everything's going to be okay. Also, he knows me. He knows. Everything is going to be okay. So yeah, I got my $2 worth. No wobbling on the way home--total confidence.

Long Ride

I've decided to expand the blog. Listen, all of you hardcore fans, we're busting out of the bus world bounds. We can't be held back, we won't be detained by more promises of quarter-hour pickups and rainy day disappointments. We've moved on to bigger and better transports. Here are my latest new modes of transportation:

Foot. Well, feet. I have two, I've been using them. New shoes, moleskin, iPod, warmer weather.

Snowshoes. Cold, beautiful scenery, makes Nathan really happy when I go. Have started to love it independent of him, but I’m not sure that I would ever go alone.

Longboard. Requires a bit more explanation. Am still not officially a Dude Bro, but edging closer, I suppose. Nathan and I found that we both have longboards available to us for free (roommates/landlords), and have been taking advantage of that. Not so much like a skateboard. Longer. Bigger. Bigger wheels, a wider wooden platform that wobbled the first time I put all my weight on it. No--it wobbles every time I lose confidence or go down a hill too fast. It wobbles and I wobble and I have to remind myself to give up on the idea that I won’t fall. The idea that I can control it, myself, everything. I went longboarding with Virginia the other day. Peruvian Virginia: small, wears her thick, short black hair in two small pig tails, speaks with a slight Peruvian accent. She wants to teach me to longboard mostly, I’m told, because she’s been desperate for a longbaord partner. Before last month I would have had no idea what that meant, but I sort of get it now. It’s not a solo sport, it’s something to be shared. She is a magnificent longboarder, albeit at times still the tiniest bit shy of steady. This only makes Virginia more delightful.

Nathan. Transports me in his 1997 Dodge Caravan. Never thought I would love a minivan, but I kind of do. White, dented, battered, slowly falling apart from the ceiling cloth to the electric locks. Here’s the thing: it smells like cinnamon because of this novelty cinnamon-scented broom that’s been in there since Nathan and I started dating. The first time I got in the car, I commented on the smell, and since then I’ve gotten to mostly ignoring it. It’s mixed in with all my other associations now. There’s a story behind the broom—something about his roommate and Christmas, but it doesn’t really matter. Here’s another thing: Nathan never cleans the van. He’s messy. There are piles of trash and dirty clothes from snowshoeing and tools and our longboards and blankets and ski poles and. The van transports me. To being with Nathan. To letting go of the need to gather food wrappers in some sort of receptacle (though I’ve tried on more than one occasion. He hates that, and pushes the bag and trash out of my hand, back to the floor. He has a system, he assures me). To being in an adult relationship that involves moving myself, moving him, allowing him in and out of my life.

I haven’t had as much need for the bus lately. Other modes of transport. New modes, old modes, finding ways to get around. New ways. Erin is getting a motorcycle, and Nathan and I are going on a road trip this summer. One way or another I’m transporting. Don’t worry about me, I’m getting around.