Pandemic Road Trip
Amy Hill
By Whitney Walker, San Leandro, California, U.S.
Monday, March 16, 12 noon: Schools are closed, shelves are empty, people are hoarding flu supplies, and everyone is out of toilet paper. When the shelter-in-place order comes down, I call my son and tell him it’s time to choose. Gabe has been enjoying his first year in college in Portland and was considering riding out this whole coronavirus thing on campus. He’s 19, practically an adult, so it should be his decision. But I also know he isn’t practicing social distancing or even washing his hands as often as he should, in the dorms. So I am more than relieved to hear him say he’s ready to come home. The airports are packed, so I’ve gotta drive up and get him, ten hours each way. A pandemic road trip.
Tuesday, March 17, 7 am: We set off early–my husband, our 16 year old, me, and one extra passenger–another mom who needs a ride up so she can drive back with her son. We elbow bump rather than shaking hands, but we all pile into the car together, united in our mission to rescue our kids.
9 am: Things soon settle in and it’s just like a regular road trip, rain on the windshield, music filling the car, way too many potato chips.
11 am: Ominous warning signs on the freeway: Disinfect to protect: Wash your hands. Give extra space to each other and on the road. Maintain social distance: beat COVID-19.
2 pm: At pit stops, lines are extra long at the drive thrus, and signs tell us not to linger inside. To pump gas or go to the bathroom, we wear gloves and pass around the hand sanitizer. We spot a friendly dog peeking out from her perch high up in a trucker’s cab, and everyone wants a turn petting her, the only stranger we can get close enough to touch.
4 pm: ETA dinner time, I text my son. ‘Have you contacted campus living about your storage needs yet?’
7 pm: We made it! Now we’re throwing things into boxes, over-packing the car, rushing Gabe through his last goodbyes, then grabbing a few hours of sleep in a hotel before getting back on the road for another day of driving.
Wednesday, March 18, 9 am: By the end of today, we’ll be home, quarantining. Cooking in, taking daily walks, battling over wifi, going stir crazy–but together.