Wagons Ho!—Or, You Know, Mazda ho!

My daughter and I recently took on a massive trek west. Our road trip started in Northern Virginia. Yes, we were a little overzealous, but it needed to be done. We procured the appropriate supplies for such an expansive trip westward. We bought gluten-free snacks, apples, 2 water bottles (to be refilled), a steady supply of Dr. Pepper for my daughter, an endless Spotify playlist, and lots of chocolate. Let's not mention the knitting project I brought to work on. We wouldn't have made it far had we been part of the westward expansion with the pioneers in the 1800s.

We kicked off our westward “Oregon Trail” adventure in Northern Virginia and aimed for West Virginia—a totally different state, despite what some people seem to think. It was only four hours away, but thanks to local traffic nightmares, we left super late and rolled into town around 1 a.m. Naturally, I was riding shotgun, which means I immediately fell asleep like the wannabe passenger princess I am. Of course, I forgot my blanket and pillow (again), but I had a hoodie and fully committed to the seat recline—so, nap time. Meanwhile, my daughter was vibing with her favorite podcast, Smosh Reads Reddit Stories, and by the time I woke up, we were “there.” Yay?

Except not really. Google Maps decided to spice things up by rerouting us through a sketchy neighborhood and then suggesting we hike up a steep hill to reach the hotel. At 1 a.m. With luggage. Nope. After a few minutes of pretending we knew how to read a map—and a whole lot of second-guessing—we found the Marriott, which was somehow at the top of that ridiculous hill. Honestly? Solid start to the drive.