The Road Between
The first stop in my The Road Between series.
If you had asked me a few years ago what owning a consulting company would look like, I probably would've pictured conference rooms, office buildings, and a calendar full of Zoom meetings.
Instead, it looks a lot like Montana highways.
Most mornings on the road start the same way. It's just me, a cup of coffee, and whatever romance audiobook currently has me completely invested. Those first few miles are my quiet time before the day begins. Then I pull into Nicole's driveway.
The audiobook gets turned off.
Not because I don't want to know if the vampire gets the girl, but because as soon as Nicole gets in the car, we're off on an entirely different story.
"Did you see that article I sent you last night?"
"I've been thinking about Indigenous sovereignty, and..."
"What if we talked about this on the podcast?"
"I don't think we're asking the right question in this project."
We haven't even left town.
The funny thing is, none of those conversations are planned. Nobody says, "Okay, what's on today's agenda?" They just happen. One idea leads to another. Someone connects it to something a community member shared a month ago. Someone else challenges it. Before we know it, we're halfway across Montana and we've outlined a podcast episode, reworked a facilitation, and completely shifted how we're thinking about a project.
That's just...Tuesday.
If Davey is meeting us somewhere, she's usually had the same kind of morning. Her own coffee. Her own audiobook. Her own thinking time. By the time we're all together, it's almost like each of us has been quietly collecting ideas to bring into the conversation.
That's one of my favorite things about Trillium.
Ideas aren't assigned.
They're discovered.
Usually somewhere between mile markers.
The Unwritten Rules of Road Trips
After enough miles together, we've developed a few unwritten rules.
Coffee is never optional.
Potty breaks are almost always Nicole's idea.
If someone “claps their hands,” whatever comes next is probably worth listening to.
Whenever we can, we skip the chains and look for the small-town café, the family-owned diner, or the place the locals recommend. We figure if we're asking communities to invest in themselves, we should probably do the same. Plus, we've learned that the best cinnamon rolls usually aren't found next to an interstate exit- well, unless you live in Three Forks, Montana.
And perhaps the most important rule of all...
Nicole is an adult who is fully capable of making adult decisions.
People ask us all the time how we work so well together, and honestly, I think the answer is pretty simple. We spend an unhealthy amount of time together.
Enough time to know everyone's drink order.
Enough time to say, "We really need to buy a steamer for our clothes," at least once every trip...and somehow never actually buy one.
Enough time to solve grant challenges, rethink workshop agendas, dream up podcast episodes, talk cooperative models, and laugh so hard someone eventually says, "Okay...I seriously can't breathe."
The best part is that none of it feels forced. One person throws out an idea, someone else builds on it, and the third person asks the question nobody else thought to ask. Before we know it, one of us is grabbing our phone to throw the idea into our Notes app because there's no chance we're going to remember it after dinner. Some of our best ideas have been born somewhere between communities, and more often than not, they're sparked by someone suddenly clapping their hands and saying, "Oh! I have an idea!"
People assume collaboration happens in boardrooms. Ours usually happens somewhere on I-90, crossing the Island Mountains, or driving through a tiny town with one blinking light and a bar that serves the best hamburger and fries. That's the part I don't think people see.
They see the strategic plans, workshops, market assessments, grant proposals, and polished presentations. What they don't see are the hundreds of miles behind every one of them. They don't see the conversations after the meeting, the brainstorming before the meeting, the local restaurants where we process everything we just learned, the windshield sunsets, or the growing collection of Notes app entries that all start with the same thing: "Don't let me forget this..."
Those miles don't just get us from one community to the next. They give us space to think, question, listen, and challenge each other. They give us time to celebrate the little wins, wrestle with the hard questions, and become better partners before we ever walk into the next room.
Somewhere between audiobook chapters, coffee refills, local bars, and long stretches of Montana and Wyoming highway, we've built more than a consulting company; we've built a rhythm. One where every voice carries equal weight, where the best ideas show up uninvited, where supporting local isn't just something we talk about; it's how we travel, and where the best conversations almost always begin with someone clapping their hands and saying, "Oh! I have an idea."
Thanks for riding along with us.
We'll see you down the road.
— Cheyenne
Trip Log #001
Miles Driven: Are we starting the count now? Okay… mile 1.
Coffee Stops: ..Not enough.
Audiobook Status: Depends on how many ideas interrupted them.
Podcast Ideas Captured: More than we can count.
Voice Memos We'll Need to Decode Later: Let’s just say I’m going to have to organize space or find a way to color-code our ideas.
Local Favorite: Currently, Middle Fork in Lander, Wyoming
Thought We Took Home: Why not us?