The RAV4, The Road Trip, and the Moment Everything Changed

There are certain objects in life that hold more meaning than they should. For me, it was a RAV4 Hybrid, a car I never planned on buying, but one that carried the weight of a marriage ending, a life changing, and a version of myself I had to leave behind.

This story starts before the divorce — when we were still pretending everything was fine

My ex-husband and I were planning a dream trip to Italy. That was the plan, at least. My Tacoma was in Pennsylvania because I just drove Koda up to my parents so they could watch him while we took a smaller “pre-trip” to Vegas. Katy Perry, the Grand Canyon, bucket list stuff. On the surface, everything looked normal. We were traveling. Laughing. Making plans.

But looking back, I think I knew something was off. I planned that Vegas trip down to every detail. It wasn’t just enthusiasm. It was fear. Subconsciously, I must have felt him slipping away and thought if I could make things perfect enough, maybe it would fix whatever was breaking.

The night before he told me he wanted to “separate,” we went to a Lumineers concert. I remember leaving the show feeling hopeful, thinking maybe we were good. Maybe the Italy trip would reset us. Maybe things were finally settling.

He had a completely different experience.

The next day, my marriage ended with one word:
separate.

It didn’t feel real — not after nearly a decade together, not after planning an entire future.

But real or not, it was happening.

Then came the logistics — the part no one talks about

While I was emotionally falling apart, I was also stuck in this weird practical crisis.

I was in Florida.
Koda and my Tacoma were in Pennsylvania.
My marriage was in ruins.
And I had no way to get back across the country.

So I did what a lot of people do during a crisis: I made an impulsive, necessary, expensive decision.
I bought a RAV4 Hybrid, paid a 2,000 dollar markup because I didn’t have the luxury of waiting or negotiating.

I needed a car.
I needed a way out.
And I needed to get home.

It wasn’t my dream car, but it was the car that rescued me from a life that no longer existed. I drove it from Florida to Pennsylvania, picked up Koda, and started piecing together a new chapter.

The RAV4 was reliable, smart, efficient, everything I needed in the moment. And for a while, I genuinely loved it.

But over time, love turned into something else

Every big life shift has a symbol. For me, the RAV4 became a physical reminder of the moment everything collapsed.

It reminded me of the markup I paid because I was overwhelmed and panicked.
It reminded me of driving alone, crying on the interstate, trying to pretend I wasn’t scared.
It reminded me of the concert where I thought we were okay, and the next morning when I learned we weren’t.
It reminded me of Italy, Vegas, the Grand Canyon, and all the plans that evaporated overnight.

So even though the car was great, it wasn’t mine in the way that mattered. It felt tied to a version of me who was trying desperately to hold a marriage together while the other person had already let go.

Eventually, I realized I needed a clean break — even from the car

Letting go of the RAV4 wasn’t just buying something new.
It was choosing a life that wasn’t rooted in survival mode.
It was letting go of the constant reminder of what I went through.
It was making space for the future instead of carrying the past everywhere I drove.

Sometimes healing looks like therapy.
Sometimes it looks like journaling.
And sometimes it looks like trading in a perfectly good car because it represents something you no longer want to carry.

The RAV4 wasn’t a mistake. It got me home. It got me out.
But it wasn’t my dream, it was my escape route.

And as I’ve rebuilt my life, I’ve learned that escaping is not the same as moving forward.