Author: Lauren Mirs

At the beginning of the year, some people’s instant reaction to my upcoming camping trip was, “Isn’t that dangerous?” I’d shrug. “Maybe.”

So far, I’ve found people to be good. When I parked on the side of the road to take pictures in Iowa in March, two or three people stopped to ask if I was okay. When snowflakes swirled in the air in Tennessee, an RV-er next to me offered his portable heater, plugged into his extension cord. [I didn’t take him up on it, since the tent and practically everything inside of it is plastic and probably highly flammable, but it was nice of him to offer.] In New York, my campground neighbor said I could use his picnic table, since my site didn’t have one. Other campers in neighboring sites along the way have made comments like, “If you need anything, you know where to find me!” and “I don’t have much, but what’s mine is yours.” How nice is that?

If someone finds out I’m traveling alone, more than anything, it seems like they are looking out for me. After chatting, they are sure to wish me safe travels and warm me about “people out there.” Luckily, so far, they are the People Out There!

If anyone reading this is putting off traveling out of fear, I would suggest a trial run. Take your dream for a test drive. For example, camp at a state park near where you live for a night or a weekend and see how it goes. Then build from there. 

On my weekend drives in Illinois, I started to recognize driving as a metaphor for seizing opportunities. My reflexes to quickly turn onto a side street or into a parking lot were pretty weak. I’d pass by, and the moment was lost.  

Out here on the road, I’m getting more practice Seizing the Opportunity both in and out of the car. I’ve learned to put up the tent now, while it’s still light out; take down the tent now, because it may rain later; look up driving directions, pay bills, and check email now, while I have internet access; stop for gas now, while there’s a gas station nearby; go for a hike while the weather’s pleasant, before the mosquitoes get horrendous.

You have five seconds to decide- Are you going to take the off ramp and visit this charming seaside town? Are you going to stop at the farm stand? Are you going to pull over and take this picture? You can turn around and go back, but by then, the deer has stolen into the woods, the light has changed, and the scene is no longer picture-worthy.  

I feel like I’m practicing for bigger, life-changing opportunities. I need to be prepared to grab them while they are available and within reach.