Yesterday at 7:30am I joined a dear friend of mine for a one-day trip to Fresno (yes, it is in the middle of nowhere, 4 long hours from LA) to visit her children and run a few errands.
About an hour after we left Los Angeles, we reached Route 5 to discover that it was closed until noon because of snow. I didn’t understand what were they talking about. It was sunny and warm and there was no sign of snow, not even on the mountaintops. Because I was driving and Waze kept trying to take us back to the 5, we called my Googly husband to help us to find an alternate route. Google Maps said our only option is to take the 101, the coastal highway. Going back to LA wasn’t an option.
Taking the 101 would make our drive two hours longer, which is like suicide to an impatient, claustrophobic, Israeli mother. Most of the time I feel trapped when in a car for more than one hour, so I was amazed and very proud of myself for not freaking out when things didn’t go well. I was even more proud of myself for driving five hours with only two short stops, without a single panic or claustrophobia attack! When I go on road trips with my husband and kids, he does ALL the driving and I take twenty drops of Kava or Rescue Remedy. (I am happy to do all the urban driving.)