The seventy-nine mile stretch of rural highway between Spokane, Washington and Moscow, Idaho is dotted with quaint small towns, snow-dusted farms, and the kind of beautiful empty space I never encounter at home in New York City. Two weeks ago I made the ninety-minute drive by myself. I was often the only car on the road and I passed the time by drumming on my steering wheel and singing along to music with the confidence that absolutely nobody was listening. But I couldn’t relax completely. Whenever I drive, I’m cautiously aware that as a Black man, I should avoid being pulled over by the police. I’m also aware that once an officer reads the name on my driver’s license—Nabil—it’s anyone’s guess what conclusions they might draw.
I flew from New York to Spokane, the easiest point of entry to Moscow, where I was scheduled to give a lecture at the University of Idaho. I’d never been to Moscow, but when I lived in Seattle in the nineties and played in bands, I made a few trips to Pullman, WA, which is just 8 miles from Moscow, separated by an unceremonious state border. On those drives to Pullman, I remember passing the Korner Koffee Kup, a restaurant in Colfax, WA that reigned for decades over a central intersection in the small town. Anyone who drove that road would have seen it—it was impossible to miss. Those three Ks placed me in a silent panic every time, and I took the Kup’s dominating presence as a warning that someone like me should keep driving and not return. Each time I passed through Colfax without incident, I felt like I was pressing my luck.
I’ve long been aware of the high concentration of white supremacist groups in and around northern Idaho, and as I crept slightly below the speed limit through a few seemingly deserted towns, I felt as vulnerable as I felt on those drives through Colfax—even more so without the shield of my white bandmates. I feared the police car that I might unluckily face at a quiet intersection. Or the beefy pickup truck full of bored men that might pull up behind me on the otherwise empty road. But mostly I thought about the recent murders at the University of Idaho, where I was headed. You know it’s a dark time when thinking about a local mass murder helps take your mind off a more imminent threat.
The morning after my event I woke up to the horrific videos of Tyre Nichols being beaten by five police officers in Memphis. As I watched from the safety of my hotel room, I thought about my impending seventy-nine mile drive back to Spokane. And I thought about my next driving trip: A week-long book tour that begins in Atlanta and ends in Memphis. I’m excited to reconnect with friends and family and explore the unfamiliar territory that I recently learned was home to my enslaved ancestors. But now I’m questioning the trip. Should I fly between cities? Should I hire a driver? Should I cancel the trip altogether? It feels unfair that I have to consider changing my plans for my own safety. I’m not going hunting or jumping out of an airplane, I simply want to drive a car.
A friend recently reminded me of the time he and I were pulled over in high school while I was driving. The first question the officer asked as he looked at my license—and undoubtedly my afro—was, “What race are you?” In my twenties, I was pulled over in Seattle for driving with expired tabs. Everything was fine until I noticed a second police car rushing to the aid of the first, blocking a lane of traffic. I’ll never know what the first officer radioed in, but my guess is that it included the word “Black.” In both incidents I felt lucky to escape with nothing more than a ticket.
When I visit my white friends in other cities, it doesn’t occur to them why I’d rather rent a car than borrow theirs. Of course I’d prefer to save money and avoid the hassle of a rental, but not at the risk of being pulled over in what could be viewed as a stolen car. Explaining this feels like work I shouldn’t have to do. And not explaining it feels like I’m being dishonest.
New cars come equipped with cameras that sense danger and computers that bleep robotic warnings. Our seatbelts snap into action at the lightest pump of the brakes, and if those don’t save us, the airbag hiding in the dashboard surely will. But not everyone feels equally safe driving a car, because there’s no sensor that can protect us from a bad run-in. Odds are that my drive to Spokane will be fine. I’ll take in some nice scenery, cruise slowly and safely through Colfax, and in ninety minutes I’ll drop off my rental car and sip a celebratory cocktail at the Spokane airport. Another event completed; another bullet dodged; another lucky adventure. But the fact that I consider myself lucky for surviving these trips is the real issue.
I felt trapped in my Moscow hotel room—like it was the only place I was safe. Google maps said that the fastest route to the Spokane airport passed right through Colfax. Uber said that for $207, I didn’t have to drive at all. But then what would I do with my rental car? Outside, I gave the car an unusually thorough inspection: the tabs were current: great. California plates: not great. I planned to set the cruise control for two miles per hour below the speed limit and I forbade myself from drumming on the steering wheel for fear of attracting attention.
As I considered my upcoming Atlanta to Memphis road trip, I told myself that as long as today’s drive was ok, the next one would be, too. And so would the one after that. I imagined a red target on the hood of my car as my foot pushed the gas pedal and I blended into traffic feeling cautiously optimistic. Everything will be fine. As long as I’m lucky.
I was surprised to see my photo in The Atlantic alongside a fun conversation about why bands break up. I talked a lot about Journey (who have not broken up!), Panic! At The Disco, and LCD Soundsystem. Read HERE.
Upcoming book tour dates: More info HERE.
Sun Feb 19: Atlanta, GA @ Criminal Records / in conversation with TaRessa Stovall. 5pm
Mon Feb 20: Athens, GA @ the University of Georgia. 4pm
Tue Feb 21: Tuscaloosa, AL @ the University of Alabama. 4:30pm
Wed Feb 22: Nashville, TN @ Grimey’s Records / in conversation with Allison Russell + Eric Slick DJ set. 4pm
Thurs Feb 23: Memphis, TN @ STAX Museum of American Soul Music. 6:30pm
Fri Mar 10: Cleveland, OH @ Third Space Action Lab / in conversation with Ari Washington. 6pm
Thurs Mar 16: Austin, TX @ SXSW / moderating Valerie June’s keynote. 4pm
Thurs Mar 16: Austin, TX @ Vintage Books and Wine / in conversation with David Wright Falade. 7pm
Wed Mar 22: New York, NY @ the New York Society Library / in conversation with Jami Floyd. 6pm
Fri Mar 24: Boise, ID @ Treefort Music Festival / in conversation with Margo Price. 12:30pm
Tue Mar 28: Rancho Mirage, CA @ Rancho Mirage Library and Observatory. 2pm
My memoir My Life in the Sunshine is out now. I’d love it if you picked up a copy at your local independent bookstore. It’s also available at all the big places, and for your Kindle as well. There’s an audiobook that I spent 20 hours of my life reading (it’ll only take 7 hours to listen). You can listen to the 5-minute intro for free on Spotify.
I hope to see you somewhere soon.
Nabil Ayers / Brooklyn
that's a really poignant account of how our fucked up society creeps into even the most mundane aspects of your life in a way it never does for me, just because i happen to be a white dude. i'm truly sorry you have to expend so much fear and brainpower on it.
Be careful and be safe! And have fun.