Nate & Elli Miller


Last summer, we took a road-trip down to Oregon with the family, and then further down to California for a friend’s wedding. We took my trusty Subaru Outback, which had made the trip to Oregon a couple of times before. I had just found out we were expecting Danny, but we hadn’t told anyone. I felt fine still, and it was our little secret.
The few days on the Oregon coast were absolutely stunning. However, at some point, the trusty Subaru Outback’s AC went kaput. My brother looked at it and informed us that a new part would be needed to repair it completely. No matter. The coast was temperate, and keeping the windows down was enough to cool us off. We set off to California, getting an early start to beat the heat. We stopped for lunch, and to cool down, and Nate booked a hotel we thought we could make it to easily.
45 minutes out from our evening destination, the trusty Subaru Outback gave a loud clang, followed by a grating sound, forcing us to pull over. The exhaust pipe had split somewhere in the middle, and was dragging on the ground. Thankfully, not one, but two auto part stores were available at the next exit. We slowly drove there, the tailpipe scraping away as we went. Three purchases, two auto part stores, and a few more pullovers on the side of the road later, we found something that worked. I had watched while Nate crawled under the car on the hot asphalt, trying some car repair tape and a useless fiberglass sealant for a temporary repair.
We made it to the hotel, ordered a very expensive (we were in California now for sure) pizza for pick up, and went to our room. The room was nice, and had its own jacuzzi tub in it. Of course, there was a mouse on the carpet that scampered away when we opened the door. Trying out the jets on the jacuzzi, it spit out what looked like old rose petals from a previous occupant’s romantic endeavors.
The next day, we made it to Santa Cruz, the tailpipe repair holding firm. After a late-night wild bachelor party, it gave out again on Nate. A police car pulled him over to inform him there was a trail of sparks following him down the road. Thankfully, our hosts gave us some wire and Nate was able to secure the tailpipe much better for our return car trip.
Up until that point, I had been feeling completely fine. The day of the wedding, the day before we would return home, I helped with the flowers for the wedding. That’s when I began to notice the overwhelming sickly-sweet aroma, followed by the immediate need to be sick. And so it began. The rest of the day I felt alright, and it was a lovely and fun wedding. The following day, however, we began our fifteen hour car ride in August along the edge of the Great Basin Desert in a car with no air conditioning.
It was a very long day.
Sometime in the afternoon, we pulled into a gas station. We didn’t need to use the restroom. We just stood near the fridges breathing in the cool air, and bought gatorade and water. The carpet-covered seats of the trusty Outback were soaked with sweat. We had nothing to listen to, and couldn’t even talk, as we had to keep the windows down, driving 80 mph down the highway. I only remember having to pull over for me to get sick three times. Most of them were in the last hour of the journey. The highway home ran through a small town, which was repaving the road in the middle of the night. The smell of the warm oil and asphalt was the last straw. We had to stop for the construction anyway.
Now that we have a child, we cannot be as thrifty, thank the Lord, and any summer road trips require borrowing a car or carpooling. Or maybe it's time to say farewell forever to the trusty Subaru Outback.

The Beach in Oregon. Cover photo pic of a backroad we took in CA.