Human beings naturally get addicted to things that make us feel good. When we lose that stimulus, we lose that amazing feeling that we had. Then obviously we go through that fun version of withdrawals that I think everyone has been through at least once in their lives. The addiction I’m talking about is not the coffee your addicted to before work and the alcohol after. It’s not gambling nor is it your hours and hours of tik tok videos. It’s an addiction called travel. 

We all had our origins with travel. Every one of us travel obsessed people, had an initial onset to this addiction. We got that initial jolt from a friend or family member, became amazed by a significant trip and finalized our addiction with that feeling of withdrawal at the end of an amazing journey. So what was your origin? Why is it that a good long venture into the unknown soaks into your soul like a drug to the vein.

I grew up in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan to an extremely loving family. Parents that would do anything for their children. After my parents divorced and remarried, it became four loving figures in our lives. We made trips down to Detroit to watch the Tigers play baseball. Went to Disney world, packed into a van with barely enough room to see your feet on the floor. Along with various trips up and down Michigan for fishing, hockey games, etc. This isn’t where my addiction started.

My addiction truly started with my grandparents. My grandma and grandpa were well educated and never took this world for granted. I remember as a child, they purchased a new vehicle each year and we were amazed with this. As we got older, we began to know their vehicles very well. As each summer hit and we ran out of school without looking back, my brothers and I knew that it was time for our summer trip with grandma and grandpa. Where would we go, what would we see? The tension grew as we found the next destination each year. 

A new van each year gave us something fresh that we got to maneuver around on trips. Throughout our trips as grandpa drove and grandma knitted her next set of wash clothes for a family member, my brother and I were plotting adventures in the back. At any time during a trip, my grandparents could look back and see string going every which way, with GI Joe action figures flying down them as they battled their arch nemesis Cobra. In the brief instances that we took a break from the battle, we would read books, do sing a long tapes (yes I did say tapes, not downloaded songs on an iPhone…look it up if you don’t know what it is) and various travel trivia games. Life on the road was a mystery, yet always comforting. 

We took trips to Gettysburg to explore civil war battle sites, Ohio to visit the cousins, Tennessee, Florida, etc. All amazing trips, and interesting enough, I almost remember the travel more than I do the final destination.

The trip that sticks out in my mind as my origin of addiction has to be our trip out west. We went from Michigan, over to Colorado and then all the way over to Yellowstone National Park. Every stop along the way was an experience of a lifetime. My brother and I collected sports cards at the time so we stopped at every Denny’s along the way for an All star breakfast, for the mere hope that we would get an athlete that we didn’t possess already. 

The trip included stops at the royal gorge in Colorado for the death defying bridge. Devils tower and the badlands of Wyoming, Yellowstone and more. Thinking back on the amount we fit into that trip, I can easily see why my itineraries for trips become quite packed at times. The trip itself had every nuance you could think of. Road trip games, random stupid antics in the pools at our various motels, grandpa stopping us every ten minutes for a photo and of course, the amazing attractions. 

My addiction started here. My grandparents passion lives within me as a traveler. I still stop everywhere to take photos like grandpa. I still pack my trips full of things to do along the way. Once my partner says that it seems like too much, I know it’s just the right amount. Grandpa would be proud. I still get that nervous exciting feeling every time we stop at something that I’ve had on my bucket list of items. Thankfully my addiction started with my amazing grandparents. What more can I say, my name is Chris and I’m addicted to travel.

How did you become addicted to travel?