Coming to school in Indiana for the very first time was a completely nerve-wracking adventure for me. Traveling 2,000 miles and not knowing a single person around was a kind of new experience that I had never encountered previously. Before leaving home, there were just so many things in my concerned mind for me to fret about. From uncountable pens and pencils, to shirts and pants, my thoughts were cluttered with potential disasters just waiting to happen. Visualizing terrible predicaments upon arriving at school and possibly missing something, I took every measure to make sure I was fully prepared to leave. Truly, I was hoping to make the transition as smoothly as possible. Still, before I knew it, the last traces of summer vacation were gone.
It was midway through August, and my family was packing up to drive across the country for move-in day at the University. A 2,000-mile drive is quite an interesting experience, but definitely not one I would take great pleasure in repeating. Into the car piled my father, mother, brother, grandmother and I, ready to take Route 66 straight east. Although I have endured many road trips in the past, I was not particularly excited for yet another long, grueling drive. Together, we drove 12 hours every day for three days, and each day was more taxing than the previous. Whose idea was it? I am still unsure, but this unique trip definitely had its ups and downs.
Cramped into close quarters, I enjoyed the opportunity to be with my grandmother before beginning my first semester at school. I was her first grandchild to leave my hometown for college, and I was glad we had the time together. Nevertheless, for me, at least, the pleasures ended there. Being on the road, driving approximately 800 miles myself, gave me all the time in the world to worry about the coming semester. In the hot car, I continued to worry and was just extremely relieved when I finally arrived on campus.
That drive, hopefully the last road trip I make, began my college experience and is something I will never forget. Now, I can never complain again when someone reclines his or her chair a little bit too far back on a short five-hour plane ride home.
Contact Zach Llorens at zllorens@nd.edu
The views expressed in the Inside Column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.
