While a hurricane compelled me to go on my last camping trip, my much-anticipated plans for a 4,200-mile Florida road trip in October to see family blew away with the winds of two others. 

First Helene wreaked havoc in North Carolina the week prior to leaving, possibly closing roads I would have traveled, and Milton visited Florida the same night I was to depart, leaving in its wake devastating tornadoes and flood waters. With the family directly in Milton’s sights, I waited to see what would happen and then called off the trip altogether when several family members were still without power days later.

I faltered at what to do with my vacation time. I considered a drive to Shenandoah National Park in Virginia, which would have included the Blue Ridge Parkway, but members of a Facebook group I am a part of let me know the North Carolina portion of the scenic byway was closed due to Helene’s damage.

I considered a staycation – I do have a lot that needs to be done around the house – but on Wednesday, with my vacation time burning fast, I threw an imaginary dart at the road atlas – yes, I use a real atlas – and opted to head east towards Acadia National Park in Maine.

My Jeep was still packed from my aborted attempt the previous week, so I headed out that afternoon with the Outlaws, my dogs Bonnie and Clyde.

I can’t believe how much my mood was elevated by that decision, as random and last minute as it was. I had a plan. Albeit a haphazard, no-real-guide-plan, but it was a direction at least. I was chomping at the bit to be on the road again.

One of the things I love about my road trips are the people I meet along the way. As an introvert pretending to be an extrovert, during my first few excursions I met people I later wished I knew more about, so I made a conscious decision this year to try to get to know people better.

I am still perfecting the art of meeting new people, but I now can put names and stories to faces. There is Charlotte, the woman I met at a Maine gas station in June who was headed west to Arizona with her two Border Collies. She drove a van, a small Ford, that doubled as her living quarters. She was lively and quick-witted and told me nothing bad would happen to me because I had a good “aura.” I later wished we had exchanged contact information.

There is also Bing, an elderly gentleman whose wife had passed away only three months earlier. He had come to a rest area that snuggled up alongside a picturesque river in New Hampshire where he often came to sit in quiet solitude. He was drawn to my pups and told me about his golden lab at home and how his dog gave him a reason to keep going every day.

I know the feeling.

My pups are great equalizers. People from all walks of life want to meet them and talk to me. They question my travels and marvel at what they perceive as my bravery. I ask them questions and engage in a conversation with them and usually walk away with a new-found friend. I learn a lot from these strangers turned friends and I hope they walk away from our encounters with good memories of me.

One of the most memorable people I have met was a young man during a Florida rest stop last year. I noticed him watching me as I walked the Outlaws and gave them water. I went into the store and as I waited in line, was startled when he approached me rapidly and raised his palm in my direction. It took a few moments for me to realize he was giving me a high five.

He was enamored by my gumption to be on the road and especially was struck by my wheel cover, which states simply, “Get Lost; Find Yourself.”

I have been lost quite a few times.

All of maybe 30, his enthusiasm and interest for my journey stayed with me for days. While I did not ask him questions about himself, it was my encounter with him that helped shape my decision to find out more about the people I meet during my journeys. In hindsight, I wished I knew more about him.

On this most recent trip, I befriended Irving, the desk clerk at one of the hotels I stayed at, Bing, and George; a young man struggling with substance abuse who came to my rescue when I couldn’t figure out my TV remote. Each left me with fond memories, and I am grateful I talked to each of them for a few minutes longer.

In the end, like most people, I want to leave behind a legacy. I truly hope my legacy is the impact I leave on the lives of the people I meet along my journey, as they have left an impact on mine. I know I am a better person for knowing them and that counts for a lot.