People Can Be Kinder Than You'd Think

Illustration by Zoe Gigis

I spent my teenage years watching van conversion YouTube videos and planning out all the roadtrips I would go on when I had the chance. I felt that itching passion to get up and just go, it hardly mattered where. So when I finally got the chance, I hopped in my car, blasted Tongue Tied with the windows down, and rushed away from my city to drive up and down the West Coast. My first road trip only lasted a little over a couple of weeks, but since then I have driven 40,000 miles, spent months at a time living on the road (still no van though, just my little midsize sedan), and visited cities and national parks across the country. 

Every hour I've spent on the road has been absolutely wonderful, though living like this on a budget took some getting used to. When I'm on the road for long periods of time, I sleep out of the back of my car, mostly eat ramen and canned foods (McDonalds on special occasions), and I rarely get to shower. It's not exactly a glamorous lifestyle. However, if you're willing to sacrifice some comfort, it's a great way to get around the country and find some real freedom. Still, doing it as a woman will always feel at least a little scary. 

I was 19 the first time I spent a night sleeping alone in the woods. It was beautiful to be out there on my own, far from the sounds of campers and traffic and somehow feeling closer to the millions of stars. At the same time, I was terrified. I couldn't get all those stories my mom had told me as a girl out of my head; surely I was going to get kidnapped, robbed, killed. Isn't that what happens to girls alone in the woods? 

Maybe it still could. But I've spent countless nights sleeping alone in forests, deserts, gas station parking lots and rest stops across the country now, and I've never felt threatened. Part of it has to do with being able to find a space that feels safe and where I can stay relatively hidden. Another part of it definitely has to do with luck, though I can't say how much so. Whether it's luck or not, what I can attest to is that people always end up being more kind than I can expect them to be. 

One night, I pulled into a parking lot in the woods at two in the morning, seeing no one else around. It was about noon when I woke up the next day, sweating under the blankets I piled on top of myself to stay out of sight. I peeked out my window and saw the sun standing high above me, its rays reaching down to make the evergreens that surrounded this little forest clearing glow. To my right was a trailer that hadn't been there when I pulled in the night before. It was parked right next to my car, its door hanging open and letting the soft sounds of a radio float out and into the sky. 

I was nervous, as I always am when I wake up alone in remote places. I'm a young girl traveling alone, I know I'm an easy target, especially in situations like this. But I had to get out of my car at some point; the heat was stifling, and I really had to pee. 

I cracked open my car door, the wave of fresh air immediately hitting me and bringing sweet relief, and climbed out. I quickly snuck past the open trailer door and towards the edge of the forest, starting down a little hiking trail that began at the clearing. When I came back out of the forest, the old man with the trailer had set up a little camp chair outside and was eating strawberries out of a small dish.

"Hello, there!" he called out, "I hadn't realized anyone was inside this car, sorry I pulled up right next to you!"

I walked slowly towards him, nervous as usual but giving the man the benefit of the doubt. 

"That's alright," I replied with a nervous smile. 

He gave me a friendly smile before looking down at his strawberries and holding them out to me: "Would you like some? They're fresh." 

My smile became genuine then, and I nodded eagerly. The man, who I later found out was named Larry, happily pushed the strawberries into my hand before getting up to walk into his trailer, returning with a guitar. Over the next couple of hours, we shared coffee, weed, strawberries, and stories. He told me about being a young hippie attending the rainbow gatherings, spending his 20s crashing on the couches of friends who were trying to make it big in Los Angeles, and how his wife had a singing voice so beautiful that it could make entire rooms go quiet. He was lovely to talk to and my fear quickly dissipated as I sat with him. I realized that most of the people living on the road were probably just looking for some escape the same way I was––an escape from paying rent, from a 9 to 5 job, from the confines of everyday life. I didn't have to be so afraid of the people around me, though I still stayed cautious.

Above hospitality, strangers on the road have also helped me out of many difficult situations. One of the most stressful ones happened a couple of years ago. I had been driving for over 12 hours already that day, so I was tired and just wanted to find my friends, who I was supposed to meet at a hot spring in the middle of nowhere. As I got closer to the meeting point, I had no service or sense of direction when my tire pressure light suddenly came on. I stopped my car, scared of popping a tire in the middle of nowhere, and not entirely sure what to do. With no gas station in sight, I finally pulled my little backpack out of the backseat and resigned myself to abandon my car and walk towards the next house I could find.

However, as soon as I got ready to start walking, I saw a pick-up truck coming towards me from the opposite direction, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. I waved down the truck and it came to a halt next to me. A rancher with a snowy white mustache and cowboy hat was driving with his son, a boy about my age. They looked me up and down: my crop top and shorts, my Vans and my california license plate. I obviously wasn't from around here.

I explained my situation and the rancher smiled kindly at me and told me I could follow them back to their ranch where they had an air pump. Relieved, I slowly trailed their truck until reaching a big red house with cows and chickens wandering around the yard. The rancher and his son quickly checked all my tires and filled the ones that needed air. When I thanked them, the rancher stopped me: "No, thank you for bringing some excitement to our lives today. We were looking for a damsel in distress," he laughed, before pointing me in the right direction and sending me on my way. 

These are just a couple of the dozens of times strangers have shown me incredible kindness. On the road, I've had people feed me entire meals, help me jumpstart my car, invite me on hikes, or even just share pleasant conversations with me that help ease the loneliness of being on my own for so long. Though I still remain wary of who I trust, especially since I know I am in a position of vulnerability, I have always been surprised and grateful to find people willing to show me kindness. It gives me hope that maybe the world isn't quite as bad as we make it out to be, and it inspires me to show kindness to people I see who need help, too. 

To anyone––especially other girls––considering traveling solo, don't let the fear of strangers be the thing that deters you from taking the step to do the things you want to do. There is danger everywhere we go, and the best thing we can do is prepare ourselves for it. In my case, it means knowing how to change my tires, check my oil levels, and jumpstart my car, as well as carrying bear spray to defend myself. Other than that, you can only hope for the best, and like me, you might find that people are even more kind than you ever expected them to be.