My sister Britta’s alarm clock trumpeted out the Pirates of the Caribbean theme song into the dark hours of the morning, heralding the arrival of our big day. Our two brothers had agreed to join us in a road trip during their spring break to drop us off in Lordsburg, NM, the town closest to the start of the CDT. We were determined to cover the 1480 miles in two days, one way or another.

We all took turns driving, and soon passed from the dripping Oregon landscape into the spitting snow in the forests of northern California, and then down into the endless rolling desert of Nevada.

Uninformed on Nevada’s flora, a heated discussion soon erupted over the classification of the spiny-leaved, compact plants we were seeing. Were they cacti? Trees? Our brother ended the debate by remarking, “If they’re trees, they don’t look like friendly trees.”
No. No they did not.

The first indication of Las Vegas was a growing orange glow on the horizon. An hour later we crested a hill and saw the city suddenly spread out before us, a sea of flashing neon lights and curving overpasses. My youngest brother navigated the unfamiliar lane changes with uncertainty and intense concentration. The weaving cars ahead of us moved aside at one point to reveal a construction worker setting down orange cones to block a lane on the very exit my brother was already turning down. He managed to deftly navigate in behind the car crowding us from the side to smoothly exit on the sole open lane, fingers gripped tightly around the steering wheel.

“You’re doing great,” I encouraged. “We didn’t even die.”

“Not yet,” piped up Britta from the backseat, ever so helpfully.

Night was falling when our water bottles started to run dry. We’d packed other drinks as well, but with the salty snacks we’d been inhaling, nothing would taste as good as plain old water. We had to get some. The unbroken desert stretched out mile after mile until, just minutes before midnight, a tiny, wayside town appeared and we pulled into a Safeway.

A black- aproned employee looked up as my brother and I entered. “We’re closing in ten minutes.”

Ten minutes was a generous estimation, and we rushed to snatch a case of water. The cashier smiled obligingly at the two young, rumpled travelers in front of her checkout counter. We must have looked desperate, because she rang up some coupons and discounts for us, bringing the total charge to 99 cents for the entire case.

Back at the car, we slaked our thirst and decided it was a good time to rest for a bit. I slept for only an hour before – restless and wide awake – I took to the road again while the others slept in their seats. The highway was empty, and it was just me, the hum of my wheels on the dark pavement, and a glittering spread of bright desert stars above…and a lone, ginormous tumbleweed which decided last minute to better acquaint itself with the car’s bumper. The car came away unscathed. The tumbleweed’s condition remains unknown.

We conveniently arrived in Phoenix just as rush hour was starting. Cars quickly backed up bumper to bumper while a just-risen sun glinted directly into the eyes of morning commuters. My oldest brother was at the wheel this time, and had the pleasure of playing stop and go with the cars around us until finally we passed the city center and were in the free and clear.

Several hours later the Welcome to New Mexico sign rushed up and past, and we were pulling into Lordsburg. We’d made it: 1480 miles of driving were behind us. Now just 3000 miles of walking lies ahead.