In December 1996 I’d been living in Vancouver for 10 months. I was facing the reality of spending Christmas away from my family and friends and to be honest there wasn’t very much to look forward to. I had no money, the place where I was living was pretty ordinary and I was terribly homesick. I was pretty happy when, after life’s usual twists and turns, it was decided that we’d drive from Vancouver to Toronto to spend the festive season with family.
Rather than face the full-on brutal force of the Canadian Rockies we decided we’d drive across the States instead. The car that was going to get us the 4492km from coast to (almost) coast was an old brown Toyota station wagon that we borrowed from a Moroccan acquaintance with questionable scruples. Unfortunately the car, like the owner, left a lot to be desired – it had no heater and no stereo. We were desperate to get out of the city though so it could have been held together with duct tape – we were going to ride that baby as far as possible. To keep warm I spent the whole journey in a sleeping bag. I even drove in it, albeit awkwardly. When I wasn’t driving (which didn’t seem very often) I was curled up in the fetal position, cocooned inside the sleeping bag on the passenger seat. I didn’t sleep much over those 4 days – the NoDoz saw to that – but I was also petrified of the skills of the other person who shared driving responsibilities. When you’re crawling through the Rocky Mountains at 2am during a blizzard and you don’t trust the person that is driving, you don’t get much sleep.
There are 5 things that kept me alive during this trip – Irish Cream coffee from various truck stops and petrol stations across the US, my sleeping bag and my walkman with the Beastie Boys albums “Check Your Head” and “Ill Communication” on tape (yes, cassette tapes).

I’d been listening to the Beastie Boys since the late 80’s when I heard (You Gotta) Fight for Your Right (To Party) on Take 40 Australia with Barry Bissell. From there I developed and nurtured a long-lasting crush on Adam Yauch. When I left Australia in Feb 1996 among the very few things I brought with me were two Beastie Boys tapes that I dubbed from CD’s borrowed from a music library in Fremantle.
These two albums were my constant companions during this 4 day road trip. They became interwoven with the surroundings and although you wouldn’t think that the Beastie Boys urban and chaotic style of rap lends itself to the desolate prairie landscape or green pastures of rural Wisconsin you’d be wrong. Listening to music that I knew and loved made the idea of crossing a huge expanse of land, tailgated by a blizzard, in a car with no heat, that much more bearable.

Although the above map isn’t the greatest you can see the route we took in pink highlighter. I’ve included a few spots of interest…
#1 – The beautiful state of Montana. When we drove through it on the way to Toronto it was dark and the aforementioned blizzard was on our tail. I’ve never been more afraid than when we drove through the Rockies that night. So may cars and trucks were in the snow banks on the side of the road, their hazard lights turning the accident sites bright orange for a second then pitch black. Bright orange, pitch black. I stayed sane by listening to Check Your Head on and off for most of the night. I especially remember listening to Jimmy James (track 1) as our headlights caught columns of bright white snow drifting across the road in front of us. I was dreaming of dawn.
“People how you doing? There’s a new day dawning
For the earth mother it’s a brand new morning
Such a long while there’s been such a longing
But now the sun is shining let’s roll back the awning”
#2 – I lost control of the car somewhere on Highway 90 in North Dakota. I was driving along, listening to Sabrosa (track 8, Ill Communication) when all of a sudden I hit a patch of black ice, spun the car and ended up in the snow bank in the middle of the road, facing the wrong way. I remember being scared afterwards but I don’t remember feeling anything while it was happening, except perhaps that the world was traveling in slow motion. Thankfully no other cars were involved, our car was fine and no-one was hurt. A lovely couple helped us out of the snow bank and we were on our way. For the next few hours I stayed curled up in shock on the backseat – next to our urban goth passenger who insisted on wearing white cowboy boots to compliment his all black ensemble, into a Subway in Idaho. Apparently cowboys don’t like pasty white faux vampires stealing their fashion – who knew? (I will go into details another time, I promise).
#3 – Ahh, Fargo North Dakota where I almost froze my fingers off filling up the car with fuel. As soon birthed myself from the sleeping bag cocoon and stepped out of the car my fingers turned blue. It was -30C. I was sceptical that petrol would even come out of the pump, it was that cold. Bitter cold is such an odd experience for a person from a temperate climate. Unless you grow up with the cold you can never acclimatise to it – it’s always an inconvenient novelty – like snow on a footpath. No Beastie Boys reference. Just wanted to share a story of my extreme physical toughness.
#4 – As a small-town girl from Australia I was overawed by my first glimpse of Chicago. It seemed like a huge, menacing place, especially considering I saw it for the first time when it was all dark and sinister looking. It reminded me a lot of Gotham City. I can’t recall what I was listening to at this point but I know I had learned all of the lyrics to Bodhisattva Vow (track 19. Ill Communication) somewhere between Milwaukee and Chicago that night by listening and rewinding the tape countless times. To this day I still know all the lyrics to this song and I get chills whenever I listen to it.
“With the interconnectedness that we share as one
Every action that we take affects everyone
So in deciding for what a situation calls
There is a path for the good of all”
#5 – This last memorable moment happened on the way back to Vancouver. I was driving on a freeway somewhere outside of Chicago, cruising along at speed, when suddenly I realised that the cars in front of me were stopped. I slammed on the brakes so hard and avoided another accident by millimetres. I don’t recall the speed limit being ridiculously fast, it’s just that drivers are way more aggressive and they drive with a purpose in Chicago. You need your wits about you when you’re driving there. Admittedly, I was a little slow and full of turkey, truffles and other festive delights, but thankfully no bang, crash. I was listening to Gratitude (track 4. Check Your Head) as I shoved the headphones off my head and tried to regain composure. I also remember it was a lovely, sunny day and I drove like Miss Daisy through the rest of Illinois.
“Good times gone but you feed it
Hate’s grown strong you feel you need it
Just one thing do you know
What you think that the world owes you
What’s gonna set you free
Look inside and you’ll see
When you got so much to say
It’s called gratitude.”
I look back at this time of my life in wonder. It’s hard to imagine that I ever did it any of it, especially considering the person I am now, suffering through my mild social phobias and peculiarities. These days I’m nervous just driving to the shops. Where did I get the balls to drive 4000+km? The current me is in complete and utter awe of the me from 13 years ago. That me was a real winner. Road trip anyone?
P.S. Vancouver, I miss you.