Homeward Bound

Childhood road trips and the unforeseen destinations of young adulthood

The author (left) as a child.

I recently had to replace my Idaho driver’s license with an Utah one, and I was surprised to feel a pang of sadness as I walked out of the DMV. I grew up in Idaho, but I came to Utah in 2016 to study at BYU and have lived here ever since. As I looked down at my identification card, which now proclaims me a Utahn, I couldn’t help but feel nostalgic.

Growing up, I always knew I’d attend BYU like both my parents did. I planned to study some kind of science, until I was humbled by an introductory chemistry class and found a much better fit in communications. I thought I’d live up to the BYU stereotype of getting married before graduation, and that after graduation I’d move out of state with my husband to start a family. A young Allie never would have imagined that she’d graduate from BYU single, or that she’d live and work in Utah long enough to warrant getting a Utah driver’s license.

Even though young Allie never expected to live here, she associated Utah with excitement, fun, and family. My mom is from Sandy and has four sisters who still live in Utah, so we’d regularly make the five-hour drive from Boise to visit her side of the family. These road trips to Utah became traditions in my mind, and I loved the anticipation of driving to visit my cousins. We always stopped at Wendy’s in Burley, Idaho for dinner, and we’d compete to be the first to point out the “Welcome to Utah” sign as we crossed state borders.

When our minivan finally left the drab, desert landscapes of southern Idaho and reached Salt Lake County, I was always fascinated by the sudden uptick in billboards along the freeway compared to Idaho. I knew we were getting close to Grandma’s house when we saw the Lagoon amusement park, and the eagerness to see my extended family carried me through the last hour of the drive.

I romanticized these road trips so much that my little sister and I often based our pretend play on them. She and I would place our stuffed-animal children in neat rows on the staircase, dress up in sparkly heels and feather boas (which we assumed was the go-to outfit of busy moms everywhere), and yell at our children to buckle up as we pretended to drive off to Utah. Our imaginations led us through the Wendy’s drive-through for dinner, past the Idaho/Utah border sign, by the Lagoon amusement park, and of course, along a freeway with hundreds of billboards.

Two decades later, I bring my Utah driver’s license on those same five-hour road trips to visit home. I now live minutes away from the cousins I was so excited to visit as a child, and I’ve made lifelong friends here in Utah. I’ve seen my fair share of billboards as I travel the world more than ever. I studied and started a career in a field I enjoy. I served a mission in a foreign country and learned to stretch outside my comfort zone. 

Maybe my young self saw in those drives to Utah the fun, exciting, and unexpected landmarks of life that my adult self takes for granted. I don’t have a husband or children to take on road trips, and my life isn’t exactly what I imagined it would be at six or even sixteen years old. But in many ways, it’s a life I dreamed of. As someone now living on the near side of the “Welcome to Utah” sign, I recommend stopping to take in the landmarks along your drive.