Kismet Adventures: When the Road Breaks You Open
A month of flat tires, fried nerves, and a playlist that helped me hold it all together.
Hey friends,
I sat down to write this after finally catching my breath. Truth be told, I almost didn’t hit record on the video that goes with this post. Not because I wasn’t documenting—but because I was living it. Fully. Chaotically. Emotionally. And sometimes, those moments are so raw, you don’t know how to share them until you’re through the storm.
But I’m here. We made it.
Me, Kismet (my golden retriever sidekick), and the busted-but-repaired fifth wheel trailer that tried its best to sabotage the entire trip.
Let me take you back a month.
I left Arizona in early May with a loose itinerary and a heavy heart. After losing my mother earlier this year, I needed space. Stillness. Solitude. My plan was to travel slowly toward Kentucky, stay with friends for a while, and just… be. Let the grief process. Let the healing happen. Let the next chapter begin.
But the road had other ideas.
🚨 One Thing After Another
In New Mexico, the first signs of trailer power failure showed up. I chalked it up to solar charging confusion.
In Texas, I spent Mother’s Day in a brewery parking lot with no power, my trailer battery completely drained while still hitched to the truck.
In Oklahoma, I had to cancel boondocking plans out of fear I’d be a burden while visiting Will Payne and recording the Radio Is Not Dead podcast. (Which, ironically, was one of the highlights of the whole month.)
And then… Memphis.
My tires were shot—bald to the steel. One was already separating. Worse, the back axle was misaligned. Cue the spiral: repairs, no reservation for the night, nowhere to go, no idea how much worse it could get. And all of it while still nursing the emotional whiplash of grief.
But something shifted in that moment.
I remembered: You know how to do this.
🧠 I Flipped the Format on Fear
Fear wants us frozen. But tools give us traction.
I used the same tools I teach:
Step out of panic.
Focus on the next right thing.
Reach out for help.
And when you can’t calm your mind—put on a song that will.
A mobile RV repair crew happened to be working near my site. They had the exact part I needed, welded the bracket right there in the rain, and charged me less than I’d paid for the new tires. Divine timing? Kismet? Probably both.
And just when I started breathing again…
My laptop died.
🐾 Meanwhile, Kismet Wasn’t Doing So Great Either
Before I left Arizona, he’d been diagnosed with Valley Fever—a nasty fungal infection common in the Southwest. I had his meds, his labs, and an appointment scheduled in Kentucky with a vet specialist.
But the Memphis delays meant we missed it. By the time I got there, I was rescheduling for the following week. His mass had swollen. He wasn’t feeling well. And I was spiraling into guilt: Did I wait too long? Did I mess this up for him?
That appointment cost $1,100. They clipped the mass, did a full ultrasound, and confirmed the infection hadn’t spread. Just localized. The medicine would work. Relief came in waves—right alongside more financial anxiety.
🎵 Then Music Stepped In
One night, too stressed to sleep, I remembered something I hadn’t leaned into in weeks: music.
Not just any music—my badass soundtrack. The one that reminds me of who I am. What I’ve survived. The one that lets me cry and sing and scream along if I need to.
So I made a new playlist. And I hit play.
Classic rock. Southern soul. A little country grit. A lot of therapy in the form of melody.
It didn’t fix the trailer. It didn’t pay the vet bill. But it lifted my mood. And sometimes, when you’re in the fog, that’s the spark that gets you to the next step.
🙏 Strangers, Serendipity, and the Kindness of the Road
Funny thing happened after all of this:
The guy who fixed my trailer looked me up online and texted me after I left: “If I’d known you were an author, I would’ve asked for a signed book!”
The computer tech who repaired my laptop saw my book cover on my screen. When I picked it up, he asked to buy a copy—and had me sign it.
These moments reminded me that even when things feel like they’re falling apart, something beautiful is falling into place. Serendipity is real. So is support. And sometimes strangers aren’t strangers at all—they’re just part of the story you haven’t written yet.
🌱 What Now?
I’m still parked next to a noisy freeway, but only for a couple more days. I’ve got propane to refill, laundry to finish, and a new destination on the map. I found a quiet state park an hour away where I can rest, reflect, and regroup.
Grief hasn’t gone away. It lingers. But so does grace.
And that’s the rhythm I’m walking to now—somewhere between breakdown and breakthrough, with Kismet by my side and my soundtrack in my ears.
🎥 Watch the full video episode here:
👉
What about you?
What’s on your soundtrack these days?
What tools help you get back up when the journey breaks you open?
I’d love to hear from you.
With gratitude and grit,
Kelly