It was early January when I left Melbourne, heading toward Warrnambool.

A summer day with just the right kind of warmth—bright skies, not too hot.

I picked up the rental car at Tullamarine and merged onto the highway, trying not to overthink the fact that I’d never driven in Melbourne on my own before. I’d taken out full insurance though, so I told myself not to dwell. I was covered. It was fine.

Geelong was the first major town I passed. I didn’t stop, but I paid attention. I’d been thinking about whether it could be somewhere I might live—somewhere that had a bit more going on but still felt manageable. I looked out toward the waterfront as I drove, curious about how it might feel to be in that space more permanently.

I stopped in Winchelsea for a quick bathroom break and a short wander through a nearby park. I took a couple of photos. There wasn’t much to it, but checked out the local memorial before driving off.

Next was Colac, where I stopped properly. Another bathroom, a walk through the main street, a quiet scan of the local shops and buildings. I found a chip shop and ordered potato cakes, then wandered back to the car and took them to Lake Colac to eat. Parked by the water, I realised something small but noticeable: I hadn’t rushed.

Normally I would. Normally I’d feel like I shouldn’t be lingering. Like I was in the way, or on borrowed time. But not that day. I let myself take it in. And nothing bad happened. No one looked twice. The world kept turning.

It made me wonder—do some people just live like this? Do they walk into places without the sense they’re disrupting something just by being there? I don’t mean it in a dramatic way. Just in that quiet, underlying hum that says: don’t take up too much room.

But on this trip, I did. I moved through towns, took up time and space, and it didn’t impact anyone else. That felt new.

The rest of the drive was peaceful. The landscape opened up, the road stretched out, and I pulled into my brother’s place on the edge of Warrnambool feeling calm and steady. The trip wasn’t groundbreaking. But it mattered. I think I’d like to move through more days like that—without rushing, without shrinking. Just quietly there.

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The Bathroom Bit

Winchelsea: Ok but nothing flash.
Colac: If you can make it past Winchelsea, it’s worth holding on for Colac. The stalls are enclosed but open out to the basins, which are undercover but basically outside. Clean, neat, and central.
My brother’s house: Lovely! What were you thinking I’d say?