SOAPBOX: Amber Victoria Singer's road trip didn't go far — but it was a much-needed escape

For most, a road trip is about the destination — or, at least, the things you encounter along the way. But for The Show’s Amber Victoria Singer, one memorable trek in her early 20s was as much about what she was leaving as where she was headed.

SOAPBOX

On KJZZ's SOAPBOX, The Show turns over the the mic to listeners. Check out each season, with unique voices sharing about a single theme.

AMBER VICTORIA SINGER: I am on month three of the worst three months of my life. I’m in a never-ending fight with my roommate, and I’ve cut all contact with my best friend. I feel suffocated by my own loneliness. I need to be anywhere but this house that has never quite felt like home. I want to look at real stars instead of the plastic ones strung across my room.

I throw all the things I might need for the next 15 hours or so in the trunk of my car: the sleeping bag I used to take to Girl Scout camp, the water bottle I never leave home without, my journal, a pen, my wallet, the book I’m reading, my toothbrush and toothpaste, and the stuffed cat I’ve slept next to every night for as long as I can remember.

I’m not exactly the wilderness survival type.

I start driving north, toward coordinates that a janky website claims to be a free campsite. As I get farther from home, the road darkens and narrows. I’m not able to think of much other than what’s immediately in front of me. It’s refreshing. The road becomes uneven and rocky, and I worry that my old Subaru won’t make it wherever my directions are leading me. I don’t see any signs indicating that I’m allowed to be here. But I don’t see any signs saying I’m trespassing, either.

I come to a little clearing surrounded by bushes and park my car. I get out to survey my surroundings. A ripped tire, broken glass and bottle caps are scattered on the dusty ground. Something rustles in the bushes. I clamor on top of my car to take a look at the stars, but it’s cloudy and the moon is too bright to see anything so I just stare at the milky fog above me. At least it’s bright enough to read and write without a flashlight.

Eventually I slide off the roof of my car and climb in the trunk. When the seats are down there’s enough room for me to stretch out comfortably. I fall asleep with my fight-or-flight instinct on standby.

The sun wakes me up too early. I have a whole hour before I can make my way to the spot I have chosen as the final destination of my short pilgrimage. I lie awake with my eyes closed for a while, then get up and brush my teeth, spitting toothpaste onto the ground next to my car. It’s time to make my way to the best pie in Arizona.

Amber Victoria Singer

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KJZZ

I sit at the counter at Rock Springs Cafe in Black Canyon City and order a cup of coffee and a slice of mixed berry pie. I talk to the man next to me about “Fahrenheit 451,” which I’m reading for the first time. I eavesdrop on conversations as people come in, eat, then leave; basking in my anonymity.

As the woman behind the counter pours my third cup of coffee, I realize I don’t feel so alone anymore. I’m ready to go home.