Hilton Head: The Journey (Or More Accurately A Long Tangent on the Narrator's Fear of Cars)

After the countless hours spent planning the trip, you eventually reach a point where you have nothing left to do but leave. The anticipation leading up to this moment becomes almost unbearable in the weeks proceeding the trip. One thing I've learned over the course of the last few vacations is that taking the day off prior to the start date is always a good idea. For me, there is no feeling worse than being stuck at work hours before you're set to leave.

Being on the road is one of the best parts of the trip. Being trapped in a car with a group of other people for an extended period of time is a great way to build up some camaraderie. It's also a great way to drive yourself completely fucking crazy. Honestly, I don't care how much you like the people you're with, being confined to close quarters for long stretches of time is not the way we're meant to live. Sure, you'll probably listen to some good tunes, tell some great stories, and see some amazing scenery. Even if you follow all of your rules for a successful road trip, after 12+ hours on the road, you'll be glad to get to your vacation home simply because it means you no longer have to be in the car.

Thankfully, this years road trip was mostly uneventful, save the further collapse of my already shaky psyche. As you might have guessed from some of my previous comments, like the fact that I think everything in the ocean is trying to devour me, or that I actually looked up gator safety tips before spending a week in a resort town, I occasionally have anxiety issues which border on the neurotic. This manifests itself most prevalently whenever I'm in a car.

The damage to my car after said accident.

I hate driving. I have always hated driving. Mere months after getting my license, I was in a car accident. It wasn't a bad accident, there were no injuries, no one's car was really damaged but after it was over my confidence was shaken to such a degree and I've never really recovered. Most people are fairly accepting of this. It's also given me the opportunity to play permanent navigator. Since I'm absolutely useless when it comes to actually driving the vehicle, I always make sure to volunteer my vehicle and my services as the purveyor of the map.

In the past, this has worked out fairly well. I was able to stay awake for long periods of time, often assisted by copious amounts of caffeine, and my map reading abilities were incredibly keen due to the amount of time I spent in the passenger seat. And I trusted my friends to get us to our destination safely. I always assumed that driving wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for all the other vehicles on the road. But as I said, as time goes on, I can't seem to help but slip into an even more anxious state.

And it's not as if any of my friends are at fault. Mostly, their driving is fine (Aside from Tom, who drives as if the car is an extension of his dick and he has something to prove). They obey the rules of the road and aside from one incident in the Outer Banks, we've almost never gotten into an accident. But I can't shake the suspicion that they are actually, in some small way, secretly trying to kill me. My line of thinking has progressed from thinking that driving wouldn't be so bad if other people weren't on the road to just wishing I never had to be in a car because that's probably how I'm going to die (if I don't get devoured by an ocean creature or mauled by an alligator).

I realize that this entry was supposed to be about Hilton Head but it has mostly been a reflection on how I am getting crazier with time. Let's try to get back on track.

Matt, Katie, and I are veterans of the road, and I knew exactly what to expect from them. Tim, on the other hand, was a wildcard. As I'd only met him a handful of times prior, I was excited to get to know him a little better prior to being stuck in a house with him for a week. Things started off amicably enough, with idle chit chat about how excited we were to finally be on our way and the growing excitement we all felt about getting to spend some much needed time with our good friend, Nathan Rock.

From another trip but ain't she adorable?

Then, thankfully, Tim and Katie fell asleep. As much as I like the ability to get to know someone better while on the road, I also cherish late night driving for one reason and one reason alone, Coast to Coast. For the unaware, Coast to Coast is a daily radio show hosted by George Norry for people that are absolutely fucking insane. Programs range from a variety of topics including aliens, ghosts, and government conspiracies. I was first introduced the show by Jason on our way home from our recently chronicled trip to the Sleeping Bear Sand Dunes. Since then, I've made it a point to listen to the show whenever I happen to be in the car late enough to catch it.

On a good night, you'll get to listen to a bunch of callers talk about how they've journeyed to far off alien worlds to get raped by ghosts which is secretly part of a government conspiracy to outlaw the second amendment.  Unfortunately, on this particular night, we were subject to some old guy more or less alluding to the fact that Obama was the Antichrist. It was at this moment that I realized just how conservative the program, and indeed all the other programming on the station really was. The more I thought about this, the more it made sense. The kind of people that are prone to believe in aliens are probably the only people that can believe that Mitt Romney is actually a human being.

We listened for as long as we could but eventually had to give way to our secret love, 90's on 9. I've mentioned before how much I love having satellite radio and no road trip can really be considered a success unless you've heard every Britney Spears song from the 90's within a two hour span.

After Turner finished his shift at the wheel, Tim volunteered to take over. And this is where my neurosis really came into play. I had never been in a vehicle with him before and as I was convinced that my good friends were probably trying to end my life, I wasn't about to chance my life in the hands of a near stranger. Thankfully, after years and years  of dealing with me, Katie was kind enough to take over as navigator which gave me ample opportunity to hide in the backseat whilst clutching my pillow tightly, praying that I could either fall asleep quickly or die a swift death.

Things seemed to be going well enough, at least as far as I could tell without ever actually looking at the road, until I heard Tim passively mention to Katie, "Hmm, I seem to be going over 80 again." I clutched my pillow tightly and hoped that Katie would do her best to slow things down a bit. Of course, mere minutes after that, Tim again muttered, "Hmm, they can't be pulling me over, can they?"

Alas, they very well could pull him over which is exactly what happened. And that is how we received our first ever ticket on vacation. Hell, it is kind of fortunate. The aforementioned accident in the Outer Banks happened when Katie forgot to check her blind spot and slammed my car into an unsuspecting minivan. There wasn't a ticket issued for that because, according to the officer, he wanted us to enjoy the rest of our vacation (Reason 234 that we love OBX). The traffic ticket did have the added benefit of slowing Tim's driving down to within the realms of the speed limit. He actually felt kind of bad about it, and even after getting slammed with a near 200 dollar ticket, was kind enough to take us all out for breakfast at the closest Waffle House.

After WaHo, things were pretty smooth sailing. Katie took her turn at the wheel from that point until we reached our destination, and even though I know she's trying to kill me, it's in such a loving way, I can't really complain.

And that is how we eventually came to arrive at Hilton Head. I'm sure everyone is patiently awaiting the stories of what actually took place while we were there, and at this point, I don't think there's anything else I can do to delay these tales. Except, of course, the trip to Traverse City I've got coming up this weekend.

Stay turned for some exciting tales from Turner while I'm gone.