Road Trip Stories Novels & Stories

He said, "Everyone is stuck here. If I were to clear a path just for you, others would call it a misuse of power. Daphne, are you just trying to get me in trouble?" My mother was so anxious that she began sweating profusely. She yelled, "This is a matter of life and death! Is this how you police officers do your job?" Half an hour ago, I returned to the day my father collapsed. Still stuck in traffic, I did not ask my husband, Jonathan Reed, who was conducting the traffic, for help. Instead, I forced my way through the stream of cars and turned sharply into a side road with fewer vehicles. I did not even have the time to step on the gas pedal when Francis appeared, blocking my car.

“Come back, okay? Preferably with all your limbs. And with at least one interesting story that doesn’t involve almost dying.” “I’ll see what I can do,” she said. He hugged her quick and tight, then shoved the parcel at her and backed away before he could say anything sentimental enough for her to mock. Talia bounded up as Rin swung herself into the saddle of her horse. “Road trip,” she said, eyes alight. “Cult hunting. Heirs. Political tension. It’s like all the bards’ worst ideas rolled into one.” “Try not to narrate it while we’re in it,” Rin said. “I’d like to keep some element of surprise.”

I shake my head and reply, "No, they will not.” We are driving to Colorado, which will take more than twenty-five hours, but we don’t mind. We have booked some motels on the way. It will be a fun road trip. We don’t have much to take with us. We each have a case of clothes. It will be long, but we will make the most of it, taking turns to drive. We will see some beautiful places along the way, too. “Not long now,” she whispers. “Not long at all.” I smile and kiss the top of her head.

Road Trip The old SUV hummed down the empty highway, windows down, hot summer air rushing in. Three guys had been driving for nine hours straight from college to the coast — a cheap summer road trip to blow off steam before senior year. Alex was behind the wheel, hands loose on the steering wheel, tank top sticking to his sweaty chest. He was the tallest, broad-shouldered, the quiet “straight” one who always organized everything. In the passenger seat sat Ryan — cocky, athletic, loud-mouthed, the guy who never shut up about girls. In the backseat, legs stretched out, was Noah — the quiet, openly bi roommate who had tagged along at the last minute with a knowing little smile.

I only think about the day we have to separate, the day my dad says we have to move to another town or city, from school to home we have to take a truck that we both take. I like to sit near the window, so I can watch people go by, and among them I look for Esau, but I haven't had any luck. Time went by, to be exact a year and a half, when one day I was looking out the window of the truck, this time we sat in the middle, me on one side and Luisa on the other, because they were the only seats that were unoccupied. Suddenly I saw Esau on the street with his backpack on his shoulders, so I stopped and yelled at him through the window, but I don't think he heard me, because he didn't turn around

they didn't change the story. "I took a couple days off to go spend the weekend with my parents at their beach house. I should have waited. Gone the next morning after a good night sleep. But, I insisted on making the drive that afternoon. I dosed off with Joshua in the backseat driving down the interstate, and the grooves on the side of the road woke me up."

My eyes snapped to my wristwatch, it was already passed eleven, which meant I had more than two hours to spend alone with this male beside me since his pack was six hours drive from mine. Goddess! This isn't good "You could take a nap if you are feeling sleepy while I drive." I should jumped at the idea, faking tiredness while acting sleepy that way I could avoid any more of his nasty questions, but I wasn't the type that sleeps on a road trip, the only time, I was involved in a road trip that last for hours was at my fifteenth birthday when my parents and I had to travel to another pack including my sister, although it was almost twenty-four hours drive, I stay awake all through the drive.

There’s more to know, and the only place you’ll get it is her. “Tell me about RVing.” Jim’s voice sounded too loud and too sudden in the gulf of silence still close around them. “You have to have some stories. Mishaps and adventures. Come on, tell me.” A small smile tugged the corners of Teri’s full lips and she pushed her plate away, then took a sip from her wine.

A life spent looking backwards misses all the beauty that lies in front of it. Your parents aren’t perfect. You might have realize this. But you’re pretty darn smart. So, like I said before, we have to forgive ourselves or the coulda, woulda, shoulda, fear and anxiety will creep into a crack of our weaknesses, and overcome us. Please know we’re not perfect, and we will never claim to be. Our personal journeys have stories to tell. THAT’S for sure. When it comes time for stories, though, talk to me first… because chances are your father’s are going to be inappropriate. HA!

“They watch these murder shows on TV and they think of big ugly men with junk food guts and rusty knives stuck through their belts. They hear about maimed hookers and shallow graves. Most people like to believe the worst, especially if it’s about something they’ve never seen up close.” The truckers we’ve caught rides with have almost always had big laughs and outrageous stories. They tell us about their backroad breakdowns, their close shaves. The crazies and the lonelies and the loons who cross their paths. Stress and booze, and what booze does when folks are stressed. They know all about lunatics, and even more about angels. A few told us about their encounters with wild animals, late at n