Some people collect stamps. Others collect sneakers. Me? I collect cross-country road trips. I’ve done it six times. Six times, driving from one coast to the other, crisscrossing this wild and wonderful country. I’ve even ventured across Canada, which, by the way, was a revelation. Small Canadian towns are a whole vibe—charming, quiet, and absolutely pristine. It’s like hitting the pause button on life for a moment. Also, their gas station snacks are better. Just saying.

But back to the U.S. road trips. I’ve slept at least one night in every single one of the 50 states, thanks in large part to these journeys. From dive motels with neon signs that flicker like they’re out of a horror movie to Airbnbs in towns that were barely a dot on the map, I’ve seen it all. And let me tell you, seeing this country up close and personal is like getting to know an old friend: sometimes you love them, sometimes you just shake your head in disbelief, but in the end, you understand them better.

These road trips also taught me to appreciate the subtle art of eating whatever’s available (I’m looking at you, gas station hot dogs). And more importantly, I learned to talk to just about anyone. Whether it’s a trucker in Nebraska, a bartender in Boise, or a farmer in Saskatchewan (yes, that’s Canadian, but still!), road trips gave me the conversational confidence to connect with people from all walks of life.

And after all those miles, after living in over 23 cities, I know this: while I can appreciate the beauty of wide-open spaces and the diversity of experiences, I also know what I value about where I live. Road trips remind you what home really means—even if your definition of home changes every few years like mine.

So yeah, it’s been a well-traveled, gas-guzzling, snack-devouring, people-meeting road trip life for me. Would I do it again? Absolutely. Just maybe with fewer hot dogs next time.