The Road Isn’t the Point—The Ride Is
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood.
Twenty years ago, I stood on a stage in front of my graduating class, quoting Robert Frost’s most iconic lines. I told a room full of sleepy, hope-filled 21- and 22-year-olds to take the road less traveled. Blaze their own path. Trust themselves, even if the route looked unfamiliar.
After my college graduation — Johnson C. Smith University, Class of 2008
Back then, I meant it with my whole chest. And honestly? I still do.
But now, with some real mileage behind me, I know this: it was never just about the road. It was always about the ride.
The Truth About Choosing Your Path
The road less traveled sounds poetic. Courageous. Unique. But what they don’t tell you is that forging your own path isn’t for the faint of heart. It can be lonely. Disorienting. And at times, it will ask more of you than you knew you had to give.
I’ve taken roads no one expected. I’ve charted courses that didn’t come with a map. And while I’ve learned so much about resilience and clarity, I’ve also learned this:
Not every journey requires solitude. And not every path walked by many is void of meaning.
There is value in togetherness. There is wisdom in shared vision. There is power in choosing your riders as intentionally as you choose your direction.
The Real Journey: My Road Trip Reflection
I took this during sunset at the Grand Canyon.
A few years ago, I went on a literal cross-country road trip. We packed snacks, built playlists, mapped out the route, and—most importantly—we chose our crew before we hit the road.
Nobody was picked up along the way. Nobody had to "earn their seat." We chose each other with intention, because when you’re about to cross state lines and time zones, you don’t just think about the road. You think about who’s riding with you.
And even with all that planning? We still had to adjust. Switch drivers. Sit in silence. Pull over to breathe. Laugh, cry, stretch, and reroute.
The road didn’t just show us new places. It showed us new parts of ourselves.
Who's In Your Car?
Whether you're on a highway or backroad, the people you invite into your journey matter. Sometimes, we focus so much on the destination that we forget to ask:
Am I traveling with people who see me clearly?
Do I trust them enough to let them drive?
Am I being honest about where I want to go?
Because you can’t blame people for not taking you where you want to go, if you never say where that is.
That one hits hard—because I had to learn it myself.
So, What Kind of Traveler Are You?
Are you the self-navigator? The one who holds the map and the wheel and the weight, because you’ve never been able to trust anyone else to?
Photo by Element5 Digital: https://www.pexels.com/photo/person-pointing-a-location-on-the-map-1051075/
Or are you the silent passenger? The one who shrinks in the backseat, letting others decide the direction while you quietly hope it aligns with your truth?
Maybe, just maybe, you're becoming the intentional co-rider. The one who checks in, speaks up, takes turns, and builds a journey rooted in joy and clarity.
The Charge
This post isn’t here to romanticize the road. It’s here to remind you that the ride matters. That how you move through life—and who you move with—is just as important as the path itself.
If you’re ready to reflect deeper on this, listen to the full conversation in Episode 0007 of The Gr8tness Router: "The Road Trip."
And if you’re in a season of rerouting or reclaiming your sense of direction? My book, Laid Off Lemonade, might be just what you need for the next leg of your journey.
Because the roads will always be there. But how you ride?
That’s where the real story lives.
