Grand Canyon, Arizona
When you do something stupid, people respond in one of two ways.
The first kind of person shows compassion, empathy and kindness. They know you’re only human and that we all make mistakes. They show up for you, in big ways or small. It might be a simple message with a few kind words, or it might be taking you under their wing and solving your problems.
The other kind of response is full of disgust, shame, accusation and scolding. How could you idiots make such a huge mistake? Don’t cry, it’s not like you died. Why weren’t you better prepared? You should have done this, or that. It’s not a big deal. Get over it. Morons.
I’ve travelled the world and experienced a lot, but I’m pretty sheltered when it comes to strangers’ opinions. I make it my business not give a shit what other people think in my daily life. Ask my friends, they know I don’t really listen to anyone but those closest to me, and my gut. Before this trip, my exposure to social media was next to nothing. I don’t like sharing my life publicly. We started @offweroad mostly so family and friends could keep up with us, and so we’d have a record of our memories. Writing and photography have become my creative outlet on this trip, something to lean into as my design career winds down. But as we’ve showed up more online, so have the people wanting to follow along with us. And with it has come their opinions.
When I shared our flash flood experience, I had two reasons in mind. I wanted a quick, easy way to tell people at home what had happened. And I wanted to be honest about the mistakes we made, in case it kept someone else out of a canyon in the rain.
The response has been staggering, in both generosity and contempt.
A stranger picked us up, trailered our truck to his house, diagnosed the engine with Tom, and has since let us live in his spare bedroom for a week. His wife and teenage son welcomed us with open arms. The only question they asked was, “Are you okay? What do you need?” Their neighbours have had us over for dinner, driven us to mechanic shops so we’d have more options, and offered up their own homes too.
Every afternoon I walk their beagle around the block, and I’m still in awe of how kind they’ve been.
The generosity doesn’t end there. Another stranger has offered his home and shop in Colorado so we can do our engine swap. He’s in the middle of building out his own Land Cruiser camper, and he’s still helping us source engines. He’s called in his connections and checks in almost every day to make sure we’re okay.
We haven’t even met him yet.
Cruelty and compassion arriving side by side, on top of the aftershock of the flood itself, has left me in a daze for days. When you live on the road, you never really know what’s ahead. There’s no routine, except knowing I’ll make a cup of coffee when I wake up. Beyond that, life is a snow globe someone keeps shaking. One day we’re watching a mother moose and her calf wander down a stream next to camp. The next, we’re cooking dinner for strangers with no idea when we’ll be back on the road. We’ve learned to expect the unknown. But it’s still daunting, and it’s still exhilarating, often at the same time.
There’s tension between our two countries right now. Politics shape our lives, affect our businesses, harden opinions and cause friction. But zoom in past all of that to the daily lives of actual people, and you find something simpler. Not one person who helped us asked where we were from before deciding to help. They just saw two people who needed a hand, and they gave it. Generosity doesn’t give a damn where you’re from or ask why you got yourself into the predicament in the first place.
Helping someone costs very little: a message, a meal, a spare bed, a phone call to a friend with a trailer. To the person on the receiving end, it can be everything. We’re going to spend the rest of this trip, and probably the rest of our lives, trying to pay that forward.
To the people who left the harsh comments: I get it. It’s easy to judge a stranger from behind a screen. But we’re real people, and that was a real bad day. Next time you see someone at their worst, try asking what they need instead of telling them what they did wrong. You might be surprised how good it feels.
We all do something stupid eventually. When it’s your turn, you’ll find out which kind of people are around you.
Which kind of person are you when it’s someone else’s turn?
