Many years ago, my best friend and I went on a road trip along with our girlfriends. The trip was planned at about 8pm, we were on the road by 10pm, and we arrived around 6am in Nampa, Idaho. There was no real planning, no rhyme or reason to where we would stay or what we would eat. We just got on the road and drove. We arrived tired, and ready for sleep, and found a hotel room to share so we could all get some rest. After spending a day or so there getting rested and visiting with my buddy’s family, we all reversed the direction and headed home. Although there was some drama along the way, we made it, and enjoyed the whimsical adventure that we had all gone on together.
Looking back, I think that was probably one of the things I liked about being younger. We didn’t have to know exactly what was going to happen. We just went. Somewhere along the way, that changed. The older I got, the more responsibility I had, and the more I started believing that having a plan was the same thing as being responsible.
For the recent camping trip, or “Attack of the Angry Futon”, there was a little more planning. We picked and reserved a spot ahead of time, did some meal planning, and made sure to pack as many needed items that we thought we were going to need. In doing so, we have now created a “go-kit” with the things we need so we don’t have to do nearly as much planning next time. We can just grab it and take off whenever we want to, or whenever we feel the need to “bounce,” “get the heck out of Dodge,” “vamoose,” and/or escape.
For that camping trip, the original plan had changed. We had originally planned to stay somewhere else, but discovered that sleeping in the car was going to be more of a challenge than we expected. So we changed our plans. On the fly, we found a new location, planned around it, and went with a whole new plan with about a week to go. Neither of us had been to this location before, and there were plenty of things we couldn’t have planned for.
I don’t think spontaneity means being irresponsible. There is a difference between jumping off a bridge because you think it would be fun and deciding to take a different road because you want to see where it goes. I’ve learned that planning has its place. I just don’t think it needs to occupy every available space.
Maybe the goal isn’t to throw the plan away. Maybe it’s to leave some room around the plan for life to happen.
Yesterday, my girl and I were looking for a place to eat. We decided on a food truck, cause we both love to support local businesses, but being later on Sunday evening, many of the food trucks were closed – so we had to find something else.
“Do you trust me?” she said, looking at me with a smile on her face.
“Yes, I do,” I replied.
We started driving up the McKenzie River to a food truck that she had in mind to take me to. The drive was amazing, half green forests, half burned-out treescapes left behind by fires a few years ago, but still amazing to see and experience with her. The food truck that she had planned on taking me to was also closed. She pivoted and told me she had a new destination in mind and we headed off to that new location. After driving about an hour up the McKenzie River, we arrived at a place in the middle of nowhere, and had a wonderful meal, eating outdoors, sitting next to some flowers. I took great joy watching her eat her meal with her hands and lick her fingers trying not to waste the honey-siracha flavoring for her wings.
There was something surprisingly freeing about letting someone else make the decision. I didn’t have to research it. I didn’t have to evaluate it. I didn’t have to make sure it was the best possible choice. I could just trust her and go along for the ride.
Maybe that’s part of spontaneity, too. It’s not always about making an impulsive decision yourself. Sometimes it’s being willing to let someone else say, “Come with me,” and trusting that wherever you end up is probably going to be okay.
The funny thing about having no idea what you’re doing is that sometimes you have more fun doing it.
What I liked about this particular adventure wasn’t necessarily the food. It was the fact that I didn’t know where we were going. Normally, that would have bothered me. I would have wanted to know how far away it was, what the place looked like, whether they had good reviews, what the parking situation was, and probably twelve other things that didn’t really matter.
Instead, I just got in the car.
I didn’t have to be the person responsible for figuring everything out. I didn’t have to have the answer. I just had to trust the person sitting next to me and enjoy the ride.
The funny thing was that almost nothing went according to plan. The food truck we originally picked was closed. The food truck she had planned as the backup was closed. We ended up driving an hour in a completely different direction than we had originally intended, and somehow it turned into one of those evenings I didn’t want to end.
Here is the thought pattern in my head:
We could do that.
But we didn’t plan for that.
Do we have what we need?
What if something goes wrong?
Is this really a good idea?
Fuck it. Let’s go.
After spending years believing that responsibility meant anticipating problems before they happened, I’m beginning to learn that not everything needs to be anticipated. Some things are better when you don’t exactly know what you’re getting. Exploration says “Let’s see what’s out there”, whereas spontaneity says “Let’s go!”.
My younger self was pretty good at spontaneity. The kid on the Green Machine, the teenager who rappelled off a bridge the morning of my high school graduation, and the photographer who has spent decades chasing moments that only exist for a fraction of a second.
I haven’t lost that guy. I just buried him under many responsibilities. Somewhere along the way, spontaneity became irresponsibility in my mind. Being responsible became such an important part of who I was that I forgot responsibility wasn’t supposed to eliminate everything else. Maybe that kid is still in there somewhere, waiting for me to stop telling him why something isn’t practical and let him ask, “Why not?”
Maybe spontaneity isn’t something I need to learn. Maybe it’s something I need to remember. Sometimes spontaneity isn’t about making the decision yourself. Sometimes it’s about trusting someone else enough to stop being responsible for the decision.
I’m still probably going to overthink things. I’m still going to have my 47 browser tabs open. I’m still going to wonder whether I remembered to pack everything.
But maybe every once in a while, I can close the laptop, get in the car, and see what happens. I don’t always need a plan.
Sometimes I just need to go.