The Joy of Travel

 

I’ve loved to travel since as far back as I can remember. I was enamored with airports at age three and there were many, many nights my dad drive us out to the Indianapolis airport to watch the planes takeoff and land. It was fun to imagine all the places the people were going to and coming back from. It didn’t have to be travel via the air as I also loved long car trips. What was the allure of this? Why did I crave the open road or dream about new places? Even at a young age I realized travel was a great equalizer and it as also freeing from routine.

Being on the autism spectrum, I crave routine and schedules even though it can be taxing at times. There was a great sense of anxiety at school when the schedule was teetering on being off. If a class were to take place at 10:10 it best not be 10:12 and we still be on the previous subject. This was a painful experience, but with travel the routine that was is no more.

One of the most vital statements, I believe, the world needs to know about the autism spectrum is that we operate under a system of, “whatever happens first always has to happen.” There’s safety in schedules and the predictable. However, can there actually be a world where this happens 100%? Wouldn’t it be nice if there was? There isn’t, though, and I realize this and will try and do whatever I can to preserve what was with the previous schedule and the events I’m expecting to occur.

When traveling, unless visiting the exact same spot, there’s no “first” to go by. Everything is new and I’m not chained by experiences of the past. I’ve been blessed to have traveled so much in my life and I attribute a considerable amount of my growth to that.

Routines are awesome, but if you go back to the person I was when writing Finding Kansas, I would have much preferred staying in a state of stagnation because it was predictable and with that came a great sense of safety.

One of the difficult things I have, when explaining this, is to describe what is easy and what is extremely difficult for me. In December 2018, I used some miles to go to Tokyo and I needed a ride to the airport to call my dad and I asked him if he could give me a ride. He mentioned that he knew I had no races and no presentations, so he was a bit perplexed. Oh, I forgot to tell you I booked this for a flight that left just 10 hours later.

That spontaneous trip was a thrill, and maybe for yourself you got a bit of anxiety thinking of the prospect of traveling internationally without a plan. It may be anxiety inducing for you, it was a freeing experience for myself. Reading this, you may think that all things regarding travel are easy. They are not. This is where the difficulties in understanding the peaks and valleys come in because I may have had no fear doing the trip but using the phone to talk to the airline? That’s impossible for me. The little things can be impossible which can lead to confusion because others may think that, since the grand is easy, the little things must be too. This isn’t the case.

All that is why I crave the open road, or the long flight. To be free of the routine I have daily is freeing. Environment is tied to routine so I can’t simply do this in my own home. I’ve tried, but location is part of the routine and even at a young age I knew this. I remember one of the family trips to Florida growing up, telling my dad that, for me, it was the trip to Florida I looked forward to the most because everyone on the road shared the same thing; being in a car traveling somewhere not knowing any other person’s story, and them in turn not knowing ours. While I didn’t understand my classmates in school in terms of story or emotions, I did understand that, while traveling, we all shared in the journey of the open road.

 

 

 

 

 

The Party After

The checkered flags had flown, the stands were empty, and the sun began to set in the west. All that was left was for us to pick up all of our stuff around the track which is no easy task. We had made great time and I was seated on a golf cart as my coworker drove. There were many places to work at around the 1.8-mile track and we had a full cart of our stuff and were making our way to the transporter. That's when it happened.

We took the pit lane entrance and as we were driving down pit lane there was a large contingent of security staff who looked like they were celebrating. The group was dancing and singing and as we neared the party ended. My coworker, who appears to have zero social anxiety, stopped next to the group and said, "Don't stop on my account! Keep the party going!" to which it felt like a flash mob of dancers appeared and the party was on once more.

My coworker got out of the cart and joined in. Myself? I sat there like a stone gargoyle having no idea what was taking place. Why was there dancing? Why was there singing? I was utterly confused.

It lasted no more than 20 seconds and the party was over. The dancing ceased, the sound of singing was replaced by the seagulls that had an all you can eat buffet under the stands, and the work at hand once again took priority. However, as we drove away from the party crew, I was left feeling a bit alone.

I've never understood random social events like this. I'm extremely reserved and a sudden case of the dances is something I've never had. Seeing this and being so close to it is a reminder of the autism spectrum in me. Sure, dancing and singing with strangers on a vacant pit lane is something a lot of people wouldn't partake in, but I doubt I could have any other reaction except the feeling of extreme discomfort and a high level of confusion.

Confusion? Yes, I use this word because I don't understand how other people do this. How do others just let go and not worry about their posture and where their body is in the space that they're in. For myself, if feels as if there are chains with rusted locks that can't be broken that holds me back from enjoying that type of shared experience.

There have been many events in my life like that pit road flash mob that I'm left wondering what it must be like to be so free. As I often say, though, that if I were able to do that, I wouldn't be myself and I do enjoy being who I am. While that may be true, I still am often left with a bewilderment of how other people live so freely, and I wonder if, maybe next time, I'll be invited to the party after next time. I'm sure there's an invitation, but it's on me to accept it.

In The Zone

A theme I've had in the past week about writing is that if I have to try to write it's no good and this is true. One of the first readers of my work a decade ago said I wrote in the "stream of consciousness" way which I'm not really sure what that means because I prefer to call it "the zone"

Being "in the zone" is an all too used sports cliché but it holds true to what I do. I know this from the days I spent racing karts and being an instructor at a racing school. If you didn't know I was phenomenal behind the wheel but I did lack in one aspect and that was giving feedback to what the car or kart was doing. There was one day, a test day on my last day as a student at the Derek Daly Academy, in which the student is finally allowed to alter the setup. The chief instructor knew I was fast, I was one of the fastest students ever, so they didn't do minor changes because I requested freeing the car up so I could rotate it more in the corners. They did so and asked if I liked the changes and I said, "you made the changes" as they actually had gone the opposite way and made the car tighter. I apologize if you're unfamiliar with racing terminology; so what that means is the car would have a tendency to understeer as if you were to try and turn on a snowy road and the car continues straight. I didn't feel this change and my lap times remained constant with what they had done prior. The next session I was assured the setup would go back to a neutral feeling but as I peeled out of the pits the instructor turned to my dad and said, "there's no way Aaron is keeping that car on the track. We've made it as loose as possible so we'll see if he can adapt to that!"

The fifteen minute session went by and I turned lap after lap and came in and I was puzzled at the shocked look on my dad's and instructor's faces and I thought I had done something seriously wrong. Jeff, the instructor, leaned into the cockpit and asked, "notice anything wrong with the car?" to which I responded, "not really, I was .2 quicker that time." to which he turned around and shook his head.

In the debrief after it all I was asked if I could feel the difference in the handling and I said, "I think I did but I don't think when I drive I just do and I change my style that I need to drive by just knowing without knowing. I can't really explain it." This is an excellent skill to have as a driver and maybe had my racing career had panned out I'd have developed that sense of being able to think while driving instead of just being blistering fast (last time I brag on myself, I promise... I think) but what I think I surely was experiencing behind the wheel was this zone thing and this is the same thing, the exact same thing I experience when writing and now presenting.

However, where this is most prominent, is in writing as, I have mentioned a time or two, if I have to think about the words I'm writing and put the mental effort to think of where I want my words to lead I am lost. I don't know if this has any connection with Asperger's at all and if it does I think that whatever it is simply is amplified a bit, but there is something here. Now, whether I simply had the ability to do this or if racing in my youth trained my brain to be able to ascertain this zone is probably up for debate, but myself, I'm going to say this zone very much exists, cliché or not, and that racing helped me train to be a writer. Odd connection, really, isn't it? Even more so when my words as I realized I wanted my mission in life to raise awareness and understanding of the autism spectrum was, "there's a new race now" and as it would seem I've never quit racing.

An Incredible Journey

Two years ago, my work as an advocate and voice was silenced by the pandemic. Public speaking to students, law enforcement, and parents wasn't happening and with injuries I suffered at Daytona in 2020 my depression was great enough that I didn't push or look into doing virtual presentations. Sure, I had a few, but compared to the tens of thousands of people I presented to in the years prior I was not doing the work I was put on this Earth to do. Flash forward to the past seven days.

A week ago, indycar.com ran a story about me that reached all across the globe. It was an honor, but the point I want to convey is this; the past two years I thought I wasn't doing my mission, but in a way I really was. The reach that the story, along with yesterday's Good Day LA interview, felt like it was more than anything other single thing I had done in my entire career so even though my presentations had ceased, I was working towards a goal I didn't know I was headed towards.

There's something I find beautiful in all this. I had an extreme level of self-loathing two years ago because raising understanding and helping families was what I was meant to do on this Earth. The pain I experienced after my diagnosis was worth it if I utilized it as it motivated me so others, perhaps, would not go through what I did.

The interviewer yesterday asked a question along the origins of my autism spectrum diagnosis story, and it led me to say something along the lines of this, "I wish I could go back and tell my 2005 self that it's going to be okay. I was working towards something I didn't understand at the time, and it will work out." I needed to tell myself that again after the interview as I thought about the past week. Following my passion and becoming one of the starters for the NTT INDYCAR Series did allow me, in time, to have a voice once more. When presentations become commonplace for me again, I'm going to talk about this in that following a job or career where passion lies is vital. Passion is something that can't be faked, and others will notice. A person may not be in the ideal place at this point in time, but like me, everyone could be working towards a goal they may not know their headed towards and the end result may be greater than ever imagined.

The morning News

I was featured on Fox LA 11 this morning. To watch the story go to 

https://news.yahoo.com/grand-prix-long-beach-flagman-162013647.html

The Crosswalk of Fear

I wish you could've seen me. I had met my match and didn't know what to do. I looked to my right at the light hoping for direction, but there was none. The giant X in front of me on the ground was confusing and, in that moment, I realized that everything I knew was wrong.

You're probably thinking that, with my proclamation that everything I knew was wrong, that there was some major, life-altering event taking place. Well, I wish I could say that was the case. However, I hadn't met my match on a brand-new airport procedure or new laws involving cars. Nope, instead I had met my match by a crosswalk.

"A crosswalk?" I'm sure you just asked that in a dry, sarcastic voice, but let me explain because if you came across it you too would be in the X of fear and confusion. If you were taught in kindergarten how to do something and your entire life the way you learned was the way it played out every time you'd be ill-prepared to handle something new. That was the situation as I stared at the giant X that was made in the intersection. It made zero sense.

I was frozen and instantly put into a positional warfare which meant that I didn't know how my body should be in the space it was in. This might be the only time a non-social situation put me into this. Typically it's because I don't know how my arms should be, or how my face should look, or what type of smile I should have around a person or in a group. The more common wordage of this is, "those on the autism spectrum may appear uncomfortable in their own skin" and let me tell you, this intersection will make you uncomfortable.

The stoplight had gone red to green for three cycles and I still didn't know which way to go. I looked to my left to the extremely confusing sign. It stated "diagonal crossing OK" which I was hung up on. This wasn't clear because I wondered, "does this mean it's okay or is it required?" There's a big difference, furthermore it said to only cross on the signal, but which way to cross. I haven't been this confused since the first time I came across a diverging diamond intersection. If you've come across one of those, you'll remember the first time it felt wrong to drive on what should've been the wrong side of the road.

It was now teetering on the brink of being ridiculous. I had to make it on foot to a Walgreens and get back so I could make it to where the track is being assembled in Long Beach. I had to go, and on the fourth cycle I decided to go against everything in my body that said that walking diagonally across an intersection is wrong, but I went across and after surviving to the other side I felt the same sensation one might have at winning a game of Monopoly if it were played solo against one's self.

You may come across one of these someday and when you do you'll have a leg up because you'll be partially prepared. However, should you come across this, and you experience the same trepidation, and confusion that I did I think it prudent to tell you this. Those feelings, for me, are felt in most social situations, but unlike crosswalks that have been the same forever, social situations move like the weather patterns on earth; just when you think you've figured it out it could snow in May. While there is no true way for those not on the autism spectrum to truly know what it feels like, I think this immensely small situation may give you an insight if you can imagine coming across every social situation no matter how many times you've done it, it will always feel like the first time approaching the crosswalk of fear. 

Travel... Finally!

Before the pandemic, I traveled alone all across the country and world. I was in California at least once a month for presentations or a race, along with races and presentations scattered across the country. This experience has been greatly missed but I got to experience it for about seven hours yesterday. 

It was an early morning as the alarm went off at 3:30. I had just worked four days on track for SKUSA in New Orleans and was dreading the day ahead. It was going to be a long flight to Los Angeles and then some empty hours until I could check into my hotel. I did have a rental car booked for the day, so I wasn't going to be stranded, but other than that, expectations weren't all that high.

The sunrise not quite over the horizon was amazing at takeoff, and four hours later the plane touched down at LAX. Deplaning, I got a sense of what was missing for two years. I've traveled all around with INDYCAR, but I'm always in a group, so there was a sense of, well, like it was 2019 again and I was getting off a plane to give a presentation. There were no presentations, but the day started to resemble what I used to know.

Getting to the rental car place, which I think there's few things more depressing about travel than the rental car counter, wasn't bad and I was out the gate quickly. I had five hours to kill and no place I needed to be on that day, and it felt awesome. No worries about time-certain schedules. No itinerary, just my rented Toyota and the open road. The road that was filled with LA traffic. The road that I had missed.

I drove up to the north side of town, found a place to get breakfast and savored the meal in no rush. I continued driving and then my phone decided it wanted to go from 33% battery to 0 instantly. While I've been out here dozens of times, I don't know my 105 from the 405 to 705 to the PCH. 

The road continued on, but I exited. While I had no place to be I did have a rental car to return, and I had no idea how to get to the Long Beach Airport to drop off my car. I parked and plugged in my phone and waited. And waited. And waited some more. I got out a crossword puzzle book and looked out the windshield and I simply enjoyed the moment of drama. This was awesome! 

One of the things I love about travel is that you can be put into a situation that you've got to improvise. Okay, so maybe your idea of fun travel and mine are different, but the "What do I do now?" question when a problem arises is amazing.

Eventually my phone turned on, and when it did all the apps locked up, so it took a while longer, but then I headed south, found my mandatory In n Out stop, and got to the airport to return my car. It was the shortest rental I've ever had, but it was the most rejuvenating. The fun wasn't done as my phone wouldn't connect to Uber so I had to find the taxi line, got into a taxi, and made it to my hotel.

The travel bug has bit, and it has bitten hard. I forgot just how much confidence travel gives me. I also worried if I'd ever experience that again, but after enjoying it I can't wait until the next time I've got hours to kill in a city I don't really know. 

 

Featured on indycar.com

On Saturday, Indycar featured me on their website and it was such an honor. I never thought I'd see myself as the headline, but I'm grateful to Indycar for the nod on Autism Awareness Day and here is the story.

Someone Somewhere

There's someone, somewhere, right now that's going to be in a situation I, or perhaps you were in...

Today is the start of Autism Awareness Month and while I think we should look more at autism understanding than awareness, I do think that we do need to be aware of that someone, somewhere that may have their life changed today.

For all of us on, or affiliated with, the autism spectrum, we've all had our own journey to where we are right now and it's unfortunate that those that need to know about the contents of my blog, or have read Dr. Temple Grandin's books, or perhaps know how you've handled the ups and downs will have no idea that any exists.

There is a person out there, much like myself in 2003, that will hear the words, "Yeah, there's no doubt about it, this is for sure an autism spectrum disorder diagnosis..." It's been 19 years since I heard those words but what comes next is vital to that someone somewhere.

I got awful info. The internet lied in 2003. The first thing I read said that there was going to be no job, no friends, and no happiness. I was staring into an abyss of misery that day. I was that someone somewhere that needed to know the journeys of those before me. 

It's a scary place to be given a diagnosis that someone may have never heard of. What does it mean? What are the limitations? What will the future look like? There are people today doing the same search I did in 2003. There's still misinformation out there but there's also so much more. There are so many voices that proudly state who they are, and that growth is always possible.

I have so much hope for the future. As the understanding of autism grows in society, so too will the chances of that someone somewhere right this second having a better introduction to their diagnosis. This isn't the deepest of blog posts to commemorate the start of April, but if you're hear and reading this you were that someone somewhere a while ago. You already have "awareness" and want as much understanding as possible. What I want you to be aware of this month is that, with 1 in 44 children being on the autism spectrum, there are many parents, siblings, and those that are going to be diagnosed that may simply need your story, your wisdom, or a bit of advice for some information about what autism could mean. As I said, we already are aware of the challenges, the strengths, the quirks, and all the beauty that may come with being on the autism spectrum, but for that someone somewhere, this very second as you read this, their world has just been turned upside down. They're scared as they don't really know what a spectrum of autism is. Perhaps today, perhaps tomorrow, perhaps from a year from now you may come across this someone somewhere and I hope you stay aware enough to realize that just one hopeful word, or pointing them in the right direction for encouragement, or literature, and most of letting them know that diagnosis or not, they, or their child, is still who they were before the doctor gave the diagnosis. There may be a diagnosis but that doesn't mean the diagnosis has to define them. Of course, you already know this, but when the time may come, I hope, I really do, that you can help that someone somewhere to avoid the abyss I found myself in back in 2003.