I drove 2,300 miles to get home. I saw how uncertain the future is for black Americans.
Over 7 days between Phoenix and New York, I met people—athletes, business owners, politicians—living lives increasingly disrupted by the pandemic.
I was lucky.
Just as the nation began to shut down because of the coronavirus pandemic, I was able to find shelter in a car and some solace on the open roads.
A series of obligations that began March 11 required me to travel from New York to Kansas City, Missouri, then on to Phoenix.
Faced with the risk of flying back to New York, I decided to make the cross-country drive home. I felt better off on the road. (Here's how the virus spreads on a plane.)
This was at the beginning of the coronavirus pandemic, when we were acting like the overwhelming favorite in a boxing match, not taking the underdog seriously.
