The Mid Life Dating Files 2025

Think back on your most memorable road trip.

The Road Trip That Smelled Like Burning Brakes (and Broken Dreams)

When I think back on my most memorable road trip, one stands out so clearly that I can still smell it. Literally.

It was the trip where I went to Reno with my parents and my aunt. The plan—oh, the beautiful plan—was to rent a van and take a dreamy day trip to Lake Tahoe. You know, see snow, maybe ski, admire the breathtaking lake, live out some postcard-worthy winter fantasy.

Spoiler alert: plans have a way of laughing at you while doing the exact opposite.

We head out, full of excitement, cruising through mountains that go up, down, over, and around in ways that should honestly come with warning labels. My dad, bless him, has his foot practically glued to the brake pedal the entire time. We’re chatting, laughing, imagining snowflakes gently falling…

…and then we smell it.

At first, it’s subtle. Then it’s not.

This awful, burning smell starts creeping through the van. And let me set the scene: no stores, no gas stations, no civilization—just miles of gorgeous mountain scenery and the unsettling realization that if something goes wrong, we might be living out there forever. Or worse…getting eaten by very hungry, judgmental bears.

The smell gets stronger. Then there’s smoke. Then there are sounds—never a good sign. We pull over, because at this point the options feel like:

Pull over and investigate Be stranded on a mountain road indefinitely Become a cautionary tale

This was over 20 years ago, so yes, we technically had cell phones—but I’m pretty sure the service was about as reliable as our brakes at that moment.

After standing around trying to diagnose the problem like we were all suddenly certified mechanics, we realize the issue: the brakes were burning from constant use while navigating the mountains. Turns out riding the brakes for hours isn’t ideal. Who knew?

Eventually—after what felt like FOREVER—we made it to Lake Tahoe. Victory! Except…no snow. None. Zero. No skiing. No magical winter wonderland. Just cold air and crushed expectations.

So what do you do when your snow trip fails?

You go inside the hotel with a casino.

This, of course, made my mom the happiest woman alive. God blessed her with the spiritual gift of gambling mojo, and she was ready to use it. We walked, ate, shopped, gambled, drank, and did all the things travelers do when Plan A completely collapses.

As the day ended, we started worrying about the drive back. So we drove home at approximately the speed of a snail with anxiety. Slow. Careful. Laughing the entire way about the ridiculousness of the day.

Still disappointed about missing the snow—especially since it dumped major snow the very next night. We missed it by ONE DAY.

But honestly? I wouldn’t trade that trip for anything. The laughs, the chaos, the almost-being-eaten-by-bears energy, and the unforgettable smell of burning brakes made memories we still talk about to this day.

And no matter how much time passes, I’m pretty sure that smell is permanently burned into my brain.🍷🐻❄️🥘🥃🎲🎰🚙⛷️