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Soon, I’ll be heading north to see my family for the holidays. Like many others, I moved away from my ancestral homeland (also known as my boring hometown) in search of greener pastures (first place that offered a job). My hometown is about five and a half hours away, and I’ve been doing that drive for almost ten years, because this is what happens when you go away to college and end up getting a job in your college town.
Some people may love going home to see all of their family, their old high school chums, hitting up the hometown bars, and possibly reconnecting with their old high school flame, Susie Stinkysnatch. Others, like myself, moved far away because the prospect of living in a boring, small town urban sprawl isn’t exactly what I wanted to do in life.
Ever have to do something where the drive is the worst part? Like when you get there, it’s not so bad but the actual plane, train, or automobile ride royally blows? That’s how I feel. People that say, “The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step” can kiss my ass.
When I do my twice-a-year pilgrimage home in the winter, I know what’s coming. When you live in the mountains in December, it usually always snows. This means I get to compete with both ends of the driving spectrum: the Toyota Camrys that think their sushi wagon can defeat Mother Nature and her half a foot of snow or the tater-tot-sized-dick people in their F-750s that think they are invincible, only to careen off the road into an embankment. Throw in some 18-wheelers on I-81 and you’ve got yourself a white knuckle drive.
If playing car Frogger wasn’t bad enough, the radio stations are awful. It’s two Jesus channels, a Country Top 40, a Pop top 40, and some right wing nut job talking about the end of the world. For three of the five and a half hours. I’d love to play some Spotify if I could somehow get service in these desolate valleys and peaks.
I know when I finally reach my hometown, nothing really will have changed, but it always feels like I’m an outsider. It’s weird to think I spent the formative first 18 years of my life here. My elementary and middle schools look pretty similar, the general store is still there, yet it feels like I’m just a visitor to a place I once called home. I still know my way around town as well as I always have and pass a few houses, wondering if the people that live in the houses are the same ones that did when I was calling this place home. Nothing is overtly different but the place seems sad now.
I feel like I betrayed the town, a place that let me live in safety, where I ran around without fear of abductions, getting hit by a car, no gun violence and I was provided a top-notch public education that I completely took for granted. Poverty was non-existent so I was very fortunate (and very sheltered) until I left this place. As I pass the old brew pub in town, a tavern that has been hosting people since the 1700s that I neglected to frequent when I called this place home, I wonder what it’d be like if I stayed. I know a lot of people from high school that have stayed in the area due to the alluring ‘burb life. I wouldn’t have met any of the people I know now and call a friend, but I guess it wouldn’t matter if I didn’t know the difference.
I always get mixed feelings when I return home. It’s not just seeing people I haven’t seen in a while, reconnecting with friends and family, visiting old stomping grounds; it’s a strange mixture of my current self coming to terms with the past. It is always strange and I guess that’s just how it is.
It’s weird to have spent 18 years and many college summers in a place, only to feel like the experiences were from a different lifetime. Maybe it’s my brain playing tricks on me, maybe it’s from being far removed for so long, maybe it’s supposed to be this way. Like an old relationship, I am happy for the experiences, the good, the bad and the ugly, but I’m glad it’s over. Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened or some sappy shit like that. .
Image via Shutterstock
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Madoff
I specialize in damage control, being the drunkest at any and all functions and social assassination. Always appreciate a strong gif game. Follow me on Twitter. Sometimes I put up cool stuff about golfing at the local dirt tracks.
@BLMInvestment
It’s also kind of weird to see a lot of old friends. You usually find that each year you have less and less in common. You can only sit back and talk about high school or (their) “the good old days” so much before it gets really boring.
And also, you can make your spotify music available offline and play it in the car that way.
Yeah, I know. The only problem is I don’t have an auxiliary cable connection in my car and I drive home or long distances so infrequently, I usually either deal with it or listen to Dark Side of the Moon twice through and hope something decent gets picked up.
I gotcha. Can’t go wrong with Dark Side of the Moon! Having actual CDs comes in handy sometime
Does your car not have blue tooth?
I own a vehicle too old for bluetooth. PGP.
“You can only sit back and talk about high school or (their) “the good old days” so much before it gets really boring.”
Sometimes I feel like the only guy who grew up in a small town who has friends who also moved away and turned out to be reasonably successful.
You leave Susie Stinkysnatch out of this. She’s a nice girl
What’s in a name?
Fuck everything about every single 18-wheeler on I-81. Fuck 81. Fuck it to hell.
I-81 is an absolute train wreck. A two lane highway with every 18 wheeler known to man is a recipe for disaster.
But its good to go back and see people from high school who used to be in shape and popular and now look like sacks of potatoes. You’re ex who ditched you during your first semester at college is divorced now with two kids in her mid 20’s and the popular football guy is balding while you still have a great hairline and workout on the reg.. F$%k no goin back to visit is awesome!
Being the moderately successful guy going to the hometown with a happy wife and kid….and also having gotten fat? #PGP?
Hey as long as people are asking “how’d he manage to get her” call that a win broski! Always be reaching for the topshelf in life
“You know what they say, big in the pants somewhere, either in front or in the wallet in back…hey, can I borrow some money?”
I think all parties involved feel this way. Being home catching up with your parents is great for exactly 72 hours then both them and I have a collective “GTFO” moment and I head out of town.
Incredibly good piece of writing
Get a radio transmitter for your phone. Download podcasts ahead of time and listen to them on the road. Joe Rogan’s are like 3 hours long