From Road Trips to Second Winds
- Laura Cummings

- May 27, 2025
- 2 min read
Updated: May 28, 2025
We all had our ways of coping with COVID. Some people baked sourdough. Some people took up roller skating.
Me? I drove across the country - during one of the worst wildfire seasons California had seen in years.
Los Angeles was choking on 110-degree air. San Francisco looked like the set of a dystopian sci-fi film, drenched in dark red skies and an eerie silence. Streets felt lawless. It didn’t feel like my former home of 15 years. It didn’t even feel like Earth.
“Is this the future?” I wondered, half-seriously, half in denial.
So I did what a lot of well-meaning people do:
I read books on climate resilience and fire risk.
I wrote thoughtful pieces on social media.
I opined earnestly with friends over Zoom and mezcal.
But none of it felt like action. Nothing felt like change.

Fast forward to 2022. I was driving south on I-25, leaving Colorado after a classic road-trip argument with my partner (probably about the best microbrew in Denver - high stakes, clearly). He was asleep in the passenger seat, and I was left alone with my thoughts and the familiar hum of the highway.
As we crossed into northern New Mexico, the sky began to shift. A haze settled in - not dust, not weather. A low sliver of smoke stretching across the sky, drifting in from somewhere near Las Vegas, NM.
Suddenly, it all came rushing back - those drives through scorched California, the eerie orange glow, the sense that something big and invisible was off course.
Only this time, it wasn’t a road trip passing through. This was home now. And the discomfort I’d tried to outrun had quietly followed.

But here’s the twist: it wasn’t just about smoke or fire. What I was feeling was deeper - frustration with how disconnected we are from the energy systems that shape our daily lives. How casually we flip switches, crank thermostats, plug in, and power up - without knowing where that energy comes from, what it costs, or who it affects.
And that frustration slowly turned into something more productive.
I realized: maybe I don’t need to fight fires or build solar panels with my bare hands. Maybe my skillset - software, systems thinking, people-first problem solving - is the tool. Maybe I can help others make smarter, simpler, more meaningful energy choices - choices that add up to real change.

So now, that’s what I do. I coach, I consult, I help people and teams cut through the noise to understand the systems they’re part of - especially when it comes to energy, resilience, and risk.
It’s not about having all the answers. It’s about helping people ask better questions.
What energy choices are available to me?
What risks am I exposed to - and which ones can I actually do something about?
What tools, data, and community resources can help me make smarter decisions?
Now I work to make those tools more accessible, the options more visible, and the path forward a little less overwhelming - so people can act with more clarity, more confidence.
Because when people are equipped with the right knowledge and support, they’re not just more prepared - they’re more powerful.
Join me.



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