Traveling has taught me that planning is both a blessing and a trap. Without a plan, I scramble last-minute for accommodations, which have ended in disappointment. With too much planning, I find myself stuck—committed to stops that maybe didn’t need to happen at all. It’s a delicate balance I still haven’t mastered.

This morning, Max and I left Paso Robles at 8:30, feeling rested and ready for another day on the road. I had a plan—stick to a more direct route—but against my better judgment, I let curiosity win and took Highway 101. It added more time than I expected, and what I thought would be a manageable drive stretched into a nine-hour marathon.