I don’t normally have to think about my safety. I say normally because I’m currently writing this in the passenger seat as my friend pushes 95 on a Kentucky freeway with a joint between his fingertips. Wow, do I wish I didn’t have to think about that.

Like a lot of other college-age screw ups, I thought a road trip with no plans and an extremely small amount of money was a great idea. My friend and I brought heavy-duty blankets and cheap beer to make sleeping in the car easier and even told our parents we were going in the general direction of Nashville, Tenn. And that was enough at first.

The thing a lot of people say, but don’t stress enough, is that the journey is worth more than the destination. Now, metaphorical connotations aside, this turned out to be truer than we could’ve ever thought.

Because the truth is that Nashville sucks.

It’s awful when you’ve spent all your money on gas and Cracker Barrel Restaurants before realizing that a ticket to anything costs more than you ever thought you’d spend on bad country music.

My friend and I spent a half day there just trying to find something to do. It’s too expensive to go to any bars or shows. And that pretty much leaves you with one of those architecture tours that you’re almost positive is run by a well-spoken homeless guy B.S.-ing his way to $10.

Then we went to the University of Tennessee-Nashville neighborhood, trying to find college-age degenerates like ourselves. Fun fact: everybody in Nashville aged 20-26 looks pretty much like Richard Spencer.

When we took a wrong road in the university area and accidentally drove out of Nashville, we didn’t turn back. Since it was nine at night and we were four states away from home, we weren’t driving home any time soon.

We made it halfway through Kentucky when we both were too tired to drive. The first turn we noticed was to this National Park off Interstate-65, and that’s where we stayed the night.

But that dirt road behind the parking lot of Mammoth Cave Nature Center marked the shift in our journey that we needed. We realized the trip was going to be bad regardless of what we made of it. So we just let be bad. And it was great.

We spent the rest of that night drinking ourselves to a 28 degree sleep. And then we left, stopping anywhere we felt. We met people in Cincinnati who invited us to their house for dinner, we went to four art museums and we even stayed the night at one person’s house in the middle of nowhere, Kentucky.

It was an interesting trip to say the least and even though there wasn’t much where we intended, it did turn out that the journey was much better than the destination.

But as much as I want to continue, my friend is getting pulled over. Hopefully the officer doesn’t smell the felonious amount of weed in his pockets.