somewhere between a teepee and a tesla charger

by day eight of being on the road, you lose track of how many granola bars you’ve eaten.

your shorts start to feel permanently dusty.

you stop saying “when we get back” and start saying “if.” there’s no such thing as a normal sleep schedule or outfit.

just mountains, chargers, snacks, and whoever’s talking on the aux.

drake and i left des moines on july 4th with a car full of playlists, caffeine, and that let’s-get-out-of-here energy. the plan was loose: head west, hit some national parks, take in the mountains, work a little, rest a lot, and see what kind of quiet we could find along the way.

rapid city, fireworks, and mexican cocktails

our first stop was rapid city, south dakota — we rolled in just in time for mount rushmore and fourth of july fireworks. the sculptures were more impressive than expected. at the café, we grabbed beers and sat outside under their big stone faces, which felt kind of dystopian but also kind of iconic. we later found out JD Vance was there that same day. not sure what that says about our spiritual alignment, but okay.

that night, we checked into a casino hotel booked with points (shoutout to loyalty programs!!!!) and landed at que pasa cantina, which we had seen advertised on roadside billboards for miles. normally, that’s a red flag. but it was actually hip, packed, and very very good. margaritas were strong. guac was delicious. we ended the night at a local park, lawn chairs popped, coors banquets cracked, watching small-town fireworks under a warm sky. honestly, kind of perfect.

spearfish > the interstate

the next morning, we hit spearfish, south dakota, which surprised us with its ranch-style homes, clean streets, and what felt like “country-club energy but make it chill.” we charged the car and roamed around, quietly impressed.

then came wyoming. lunch in sheridan at silver spur café was classic: one waitress running the whole floor, breakfast served all day, and local gossip floating in the air like dust. the food was solid. the small-townness of it all? even better.

into montana: rain, bears, and beer pitchers

driving into montana felt like a movie. rain rolled in heavy, visibility dropped, and green hills rose all around us like a misty dream sequence. when we landed in bozeman, it was a full reset: baymont beds, capital one points, and a few days to soak in the vibe. hyalite reservoir was quiet and stunning, with families paddling across still water and kids jumping in like it was summer camp 1989. we dipped our toes in, took a breath, and remembered how to sit still.

in between driving scenic roads and falling in love with bridger canyon, we saw max — a 1,200-pound grizzly bear at the montana grizzly encounter, who casually scratched his back on a tree and rolled around like a retired yoga instructor. we were unwell. in the best way.

we also wandered into a mid-century bar in the cannery district, lured by $12 grapefruit beer pitchers and the promise of soft seating. it delivered. a bartender tipped us off to zocalo coffee, which became our work spot the next morning. one night, we bought tickets to a comedy show on a whim. it was chaotic and random and very local. i wouldn’t change a thing.

from mid-century beers to vr mountains

after bozeman, we rolled south toward big sky — a place that felt fake in the best way. the road wound through towering pines and deep valleys, with skies so blue it felt like the photoshop gods were showing off. every time we entered the ski village where we stayed, we joked it looked like a vr loading screen.

we stayed in a cute condo tucked in a complex that definitely screams “seasonal ski instructor housing,” but it was cozy and came with views that made our rotisserie chicken dinner feel cinematic. shoutout to roxy’s grocery, where we were asked where we were from at checkout like it was a game show.

we spent a quiet day working from the condo, then wandered into town for burgers and margs while live music drifted through the square. the crowd felt moneyed. very north-face-meets-nonchalant. very “i ski but like, casually.” everything was curated and beautiful — but also a little… distant. like a resort town that knows it’s being watched.

a detour through idaho’s dusty side

we left big sky and dropped into idaho, curious to see the other side of the tetons. tetonia felt sparse — think more empty lots and distant dogs barking than charming downtown strolls. driggs was a bit more put-together, with a cute downtown and an actual grocery store. victor felt sleepy, tucked into the hillside. and alta? more like a forest neighborhood than a town.

in the end, we agreed jackson’s side had the drama and the views, but we were glad we saw the full picture. sometimes you have to drive the less glamorous loop just to confirm what you already knew.

jackson hole and the barefoot hike

crossing over teton pass into jackson was one of those movie moments — dramatic drops, winding roads, the whole “ok wow this is actually real” kind of thing.

we stayed just outside of town in star valley with jill and wayne, drake’s extended family friends. their property felt like a wildflower-drenched summer camp: main house, guest cabins, a garage loft, and a teepee. yes, we slept in the teepee. yes, it was great. no, we did not see ghosts (but the vibes were… spiritually active 😉).

the family was warm and curious, asking about our wedding and roadtrip with the perfect mix of nosiness and hospitality. one night, we went on a spontaneous hike into the forest at sunset. i was rocking the wrong shoes — very woodland sprite who forgot bug spray energy. we dipped our feet in the river and watched the light shift between trees, which felt healing in a weird, unscripted way.

horses, bison, and a guy named “carl”

the next day, we entered grand teton national park and within five minutes saw a herd of bison cross the road. we pulled over with everyone else and stared like we’d never seen a large animal before. they were huge, majestic, slightly sassy. a full “i live here, you don’t” kind of vibe.

we’d booked a one-hour horseback ride in advance — $80 each, cash only, thank you very much. my horse was eight ball, who had big don’t-touch-me energy at first but eventually warmed up to me. drake’s horse, pete, spent most of the ride trying to snack. our guide was carl, a real cowboy who casually mentioned he used to live in des moines (??) and now leads trail rides while telling stories about elk migration, canyon cows, and his years at TMC Trucking.

the scenery was stunning. the whole thing felt both wildly touristy and deeply grounding. it’s hard to be stressed when you’re on a horse named eight ball in the shadow of the tetons.

back in jackson, we wandered downtown and had dinner at million dollar cowboy steakhouse — trout for me, bison steak for drake, plus truffle asparagus and beers.

while charging the car at whole foods afterward, a woman approached us and said:

you don’t see people like you anymore. that parking job, how they behave — wow.

we still laugh about it.

a stop in salt lake, a night in park city

we didn’t spend long in salt lake city, but the drive in was dramatic — red rock, open roads, and then suddenly a clean skyline nestled up against towering mountains. it felt organized. polished. almost suspiciously tidy. the kind of city that’s either thriving or hiding something.

chapels on every corner. wide streets. shockingly good urban planning. unclear if i was being converted just by being there.

we charged the car, peeked at the city, and kept it moving.

park city was our stop for the night — and she did not disappoint. we stayed at a sheraton that gave us a handicap-accessible room, which turned out to be incredibly spacious and kind of the peak of hotel luxury (a surprise hit). the room had a view of the parking lot, which we treated like our own private tesla surveillance cam.

we had dinner at le dépôt, a french spot with martinis sharper than my attention span. the bartender had big “moved from new york for peace but brought chaos anyway” energy. i had a foie gras burger. drake had steak.

we were both extremely pleased and slightly overdressed for a place full of extremely relaxed rich people.

afterward, we wandered the main street — a strange hybrid of ski-town charm and high-end real estate fever dream. we passed historic buildings, olympic plaques, and houses jammed up hills so tightly we started googling property prices out of morbid curiosity.

spoiler: unhinged.

charging and fully blissed out

on the way home, we passed through green river — which looked like a western movie set but with better landscaping — and stopped in rock springs, wyoming for a final charge. the town was small, dry, and newer than expected.

we pulled into a mcdonald’s, got sausage mcgriddles, and just… ate in our robot car.

no scrolling. just a long, quiet, peaceful, possibly spiritual breakfast in the parking lot. it was one of the best moments reflecting on the whole trip. no notes.

somewhere in nebraska

our last night was spent somewhere in nebraska — the specific town doesn’t matter. what matters is we made it. snack wrappers everywhere. playlists worn out. shoes dusty. hearts full.

you know the deal.

roadtrips are wild

maybe weird is the word.

you spend hours staring at roads that stretch forever, then suddenly you’re barefoot in a canyon, or laughing at a bar comedy night, or eating the best burger of your life in a town you’ll never visit again.

it’s all highs, lulls, and gas station coffee.

and somewhere between the teepee and the tesla charger, we remember why we love it so much.