My First Road Trip (Part 3): Why I Fell in Love with the Road Trip Lifestyle

When the Road Became My Home: A Solo Journey to the Victoria Border

As I prepared to leave Orange, NSW, I felt genuinely grateful to the employment agency that had helped arrange my temporary work. Not only had it given me my first long drive away from Sydney, it had also offered me three quiet weeks of country life — something I hadn’t known I needed. Before leaving town, I stopped by their office one last time to say thank you.

During our casual conversation, they mentioned that another orchard urgently needed workers after Christmas. I paused for a moment. It felt like an unexpected invitation rather than a necessity. By then, I had already gained basic experience, learned how to live on my own, and grown comfortable with being away from the city. It sounded like a chance to add another chapter to my road trip holiday — so I accepted.

The Night Drive from Sydney to Cobram

After returning to Sydney for two short days to rest and celebrate Christmas with my family, I began another journey — much longer than the first. On the evening of Boxing Day, refreshed and quietly excited, I set off again. This time, my destination was Cobram — a small agricultural town by the Murray river, near the Victoria–NSW border, almost 700 kilometres away.

The earlier trips between Sydney and Orange had changed my relationship with long-distance driving. I felt more confident now, and more importantly, I understood my own rhythm — when to stop, when to rest, and when to keep going. Although this road trip would take over seven hours including breaks, most of the drive followed the Hume Highway. Strangely, that familiarity brought comfort. I knew fuel stations were frequent. I knew I could pause whenever I needed.

So after dinner with my family, I chose to begin the journey at night. With soft music playing and stars scattered across the sky, I drove south — guided, at least romantically, by the night above me. Realistically, of course, my GPS was doing most of the work. 😁

Navigation, Wildlife, and the Freedom of the Night

Because most people were still enjoying the holiday, the highway was unusually quiet. Night driving felt completely different from daytime travel. In the darkness, you lose the distant scenery. For long stretches, the world is reduced to whatever your headlights can reach.

There were other considerations too. In Australia, a late-night road trip means staying alert not just for other vehicles, but for kangaroos — unpredictable and far too fond of crossing roads in the dark. The glowing eyes of kangaroos by the roadside were a constant reminder of the wild, untamed nature of an Australian road trip.

Occasionally, large semi-trailers appeared, long and fast-moving, often travelling quicker than regular cars. Whenever one approached, I paid closer attention. With reduced visibility, caution mattered more than confidence. I noticed something important about myself during those moments: I was still nervous — but I was no longer afraid. As long as I followed the rules and stayed attentive, even night driving slowly became an enjoyable part of the road trip.

Finding Freedom in the Open Road

At times, I found myself completely alone on the road. No cars ahead. None behind. What I felt was a different kind of freedom. The night surrounded me, but I wasn’t abandoned by it — I had chosen to be there. I wasn’t lost in the dark; I was moving through it. Although I couldn’t see far, the moonlight and the soft LED lights lining the sides of passing trucks created an unexpected beauty.

The music inside the car shifted with my mood. A few jazz tracks played in a row — smooth, unhurried, and perfectly matched to the darkness outside. I found myself sinking into that rhythm, even as my mind gently reminded me to stay alert. The music wasn’t just filling the silence anymore; it was the soundtrack to my newfound independence.

When I reached a service station near Yass, I stopped for a proper break. I went into McDonald’s, had a full meal, and wrapped my hands around a cup of hot coffee. Standing in the parking lot, looking up at the stars, I realised something quietly important: This wasn’t just an experience anymore. It was enjoyment. This was why people loved a road trip.

Crossing Borders and Chasing Sunrises

After one or two more short stops, I passed Albury sometime after four in the morning — crossing out of New South Wales and into Victoria. Following the GPS, I left the Hume Highway and turned onto the B400. The sky, once completely black, began to soften into pale blue, then hints of purple, red, and finally warm gold.

I had unknowingly driven through the night — and arrived just in time for sunrise. As the sun rose and I reached Cobram, fruit trees lining both sides of the road were slowly lit by warm, orange light. It felt less like an arrival and more like a quiet crossing — from one state into another, from one phase of life into the next.

Somewhere between Orange and Cobram, I finally understood why this summer had changed me.

Road trips pulled me out of the loop of everyday life. Away from fixed routines and familiar expectations, the road opened space for new places, new situations, and moments I couldn’t plan for. For a while, I didn’t need to be anything or prove anything. I was simply moving forward, one stretch of road at a time.

Hours of focused driving did something simple but powerful: they quieted my mind. With my attention on the road ahead, everyday worries faded into the background. I wasn’t trying to think my way out of problems — I was fully present, responding only to what was in front of me.

There were moments of tension along the way — dark highways, passing trucks, sudden movement at the roadside. But instead of fear, those moments brought clarity. They reminded me that I was awake, alert, and engaged. In those moments, I didn’t feel distracted. I felt alive.

And with every long drive completed, my confidence grew quietly. My driving skills improved, but more importantly, my trust in myself deepened. I learned that fear doesn’t disappear — it softens when met with experience, attention, and calm judgment.

That was when it became clear to me why I fell in love with road trips.

Not because they promised escape,
but because they offered presence.

Not because they demanded speed,
but because they allowed me to move at my own rhythm.

And that feeling — steady, focused, and quietly alive — was something I knew I would carry with me long after this summer had ended.

——-

Looking back, I realise everything started with that very first drive out of the city.
If you’d like to return to where it all began, Part 1 is waiting here.

https://whitemist.com.au/my-first-road-trip-part-1-the-escape-to-orange-nsw/