Micah

Just got in the car and drove.

It was late August.

That strange part of the year where summer isn't quite over but fall is already creeping in around the edges.

A few of us decided to squeeze in one last trip before school and work started pulling us in different directions.

Cal at Jordan, Mikey and me.

We'd done a couple smaller trips before, but this one felt different.

It felt like a real send-off.

One last chance to be idiots in the woods without thinking too hard about anything.

We loaded up my old civic retents, coolers, and a playlist Jordan swore was perfect road trip energy.

That basically meant three types of angry punk and some playlists called songs for knifing the moon.

No idea what that was supposed to mean.

We stopped in a little town in the edge of the mountains, grabbed gas station sandwiches and extra book spray.

Then we kept driving until the road went from gravel to dirt to nothing at all, and the GPS gave up.

That was the plan.

It's so far out that even Google Maps couldn't find us.

We set up camp near a ridge with a stream running through it.

Honestly, it was perfect.

Trees in every direction, nothing man-made in sight, and just enough cell signal if you held your phone at the right angle and whispered a prayer to the tech gods.

We pitched the tents and packed the coolers, and spent the first day throwing rocks at nothing, daring each other to jump in freezing water and arguing about the best way to cook canned chili over a half-bill fire.

The first night was exactly what we'd hoped for.