I’m not actually a Toy Story fan. The reference serves its purposes, though. 

Anyways, I forced myself to sleep three hours earlier than my usual 4 a.m. bedtime, and the entire night consisted of restless naps in between disruptive periods of waking up, heavy-headed and confused, only to somehow fall asleep again. Though morning finally came to save me, I was still tired and had a headache, but it faded away once I’d gotten up and done a few morning chores.

After a hearty breakfast of tea and a single egg roll, I grabbed my camera and we hit the road. Goal destination: Lubbock.

In general, I like taking photos. Especially photos of school events. But what I realized today is that when I have a picture-taking device in my hand (a device more conspicuous than an iPhone, that is), all the weird things in the world that deserve a digital imprint become so much more…conspicuous. And I feel even more compelled to snap that X scrawled into the sidewalk, the bush in the middle of the sand, the community of windmills twirling in the distance.

However, I get self-conscious easily, and I think my camera plays a part in that. For some people, it’s your average Tuesday, but for me, it takes a decent amount of courage to walk up to a leaking water drain outside a restaurant and take a picture. But I did it! And let me tell you, it was unexpectedly fun!

I do need to clarify one thing: I wasn’t only using my DSLR. My phone has a wonderful lens, and could bail me out where the DSLR failed me. Sorry, Canon T3i. I still love you, though.

Okay, enough about the photos. Let’s talk about roads. Texas roads.

They aren’t particularly beautiful. But I’m a Texan born and raised, and there’s something quite pretty about the ever-so-slightly hilly flatland on either side of the highway. The grass is a mix of pastel yellow and rotting-apple brown, and yet there are those patches of luscious green, defying the summer heat. All of that under a vibrant blue sky dotted with paper-white clouds. As mundane as it is, I could drive inside a scene like that for hours, and I did. 

Then we stopped at a Family Dollar for a rest break, and guess what I saw outside?

About the time I switched off driving with my mom (and was demoted to the backseat so that my dad could help navigate from the passenger side), the terrain began to change. Even though I appreciate the yellow flatland, I had been looking forward to this—specifically, to seeing this through the lovely FRONT windshield that driver and passenger get to enjoy! I kept this disappointment to myself, and watched (between my parent’s heads) the rolling hills awash with trees. 

But the hills didn’t last long. And there was something pleasant in propping my elbow against the warm backseat window and watching solid-color standalone houses fly by, one after another. Who lives there? And why would you live all alone like that?

Speaking of which, in a slightly more suburban part of the ride, I saw a house whose garage had a car painted on it, because…that’s what you use garages for? Well, hats off to that guy for taking the obvious and making it cool.

So, until that point, it had been smooth sailing. My dad took the wheel, and I upgraded to the passenger seat. Then, we hit an unexpected rough patch.

In almost no time at all, the sky had grown overcast—a dusky gray mixed with beautiful clouds of pearly white. And then—flash!—lightning. We saw at least four strikes to our left, several minutes apart, so not too much of a concern. The sky was broken by a surreal, smooth blur, connecting the clouds above to the field below. I hadn’t seen anything like it before. It didn’t look anything like it, but it was rain. And at one point, light and dark clouds bundled above us, leaving a circle opening to sky. It was like Yin and Yang. Or a donut hole. 

We approached the mystic weather phenomena. Perfectly simultaneous with our entering a town called Post, the seemingly distant rain tube hit us hard. On my window came the biggest rainwater clumps I’ve ever seen, swinging across the pane and rolling straight upward in the wind. Diagonal, driving rain. It got so bad we lost visibility. 

Laughing in surprised panic, me and my dad noticed a large blue trash-can sized container rolling toward us. It wasn’t anywhere close, but I got to see the car behind me try desperately hard to drive around the container, only to bump it with the front wheel and send it bouncing along. Admittedly, as concerned as I was for that poor driver, it was as funny as heck.

We soon passed the rainstorm-in-the-dead-middle-of-summer and drove the final hour to Lubbock. We got takeout at the slightly overpriced but well-rated Plaza Restaurant, which I’d hoped would outshine the Mexican cuisine of College Station, until I saw a Rosa’s across the street and realized they were (probably) basically the same thing with two different names.

The stuff I ordered was too salty for my liking (…so, Rosa’s prevails!) but it was a decent end to a surprisingly eventful drive day. And although I’d love hate to be cheesy, I’ll say it anyway: this drive (and road trips in general) was the perfect embodiment of how “it’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey”.

I love road trips. In part because airport security gives me anxiety, but also because you get to experience every single part of the transfer from Point A to Point B. You’re watching a mildly entertaining movie through your windshield and rearview mirror. Sure, you’re seeing the same things, but they’re in different cities, and that makes all the difference. 

You might get to see a bushy tree-lined highway. Or yellow rolling hills. Or, the fan favorite: cows! You might see a beautiful array of clouds, or a not-so-distant rainstorm that looks like someone dragged a giant paintbrush through the sky. Or rows of hundreds of windmills, waving at you from far away.

All of this happens on the way there—on the journey. Fingers crossed that I never end up on a road trip where I become desperate to reach the destination.

When we reached the hotel, it was almost sunset. I devoured half a chimichanga along with fried vegetables and one of the fresh baby cucumbers my mom had packed (because the food was too salty, remember?). Now, I need to tell you, my mom is that kind of road tripper. (Although she’s a genius when it comes to between-town snack breaks you didn’t think you needed.) She packed a large container of apples, peaches, cucumbers, and carrots, which I devoutly believe we will not finish before our trip ends, but she seems to think otherwise. Game on, Mom. 

Anyways, we went on a walk after dinner. The skies in College Station turn black at night, but on this Lubbock night, it was a dazzling navy blue. The picture doesn’t do it justice. 

And now here I am, typing away in the bathroom (so that my parents can sleep with all the lights off.) Good night, friends. See you tomorrow in Santa Fe!

—May Sarin, managing editor