The road trip – that all too important rite of passage that turns good friends into great friends and stories into legend.

My roommate Stephen, our friend Bradley and I added to our road tripping memories this last weekend. We ventured down to Portland to see our Portland Timbers take on the Vancouver Whitecaps in the second leg of the United Soccer Leagues-1 semifinal match.

We departed with some sleeping materials and a change of clothes about 2:30 p.m. We got into Portland around 8 p.m. The drive was filled with sing-alongs (including a stellar rendition of “I Write The Songs,” by Barry Manilow) as well as long conversations (which cannot be put into print).

After spending an additional 20 minutes getting lost around the city, we eventually found our way toward Alan’s, Stephen’s brother’s apartment.

We grabbed some pizza at a small place in the Mississippi district. Alan met us there and led us to his place. The three of us dropped our stuff in our room before hitting the bars.

Alan took us to three different bars around the neighborhood. All three were similar in that they were very dark and very crowded with hipsters.

Portland’s reputation as hipster capital of the world definitely holds true. I’ve never seen so many sweater and golf cap combinations in my life.

Awesome side note – drinks are much cheaper in Portland.

Weird side note – all three bars had skinny 5-foot-10 kids with hipster glasses reading books at the door, which is a jarring sight when you’re used to seeing the American Gladiator-like bouncers around Pullman.

After some drinks, we retired for the evening. Stephen and Bradley slept on the floor in their sleeping bags while I had an air mattress with nothing more than a blanket. When you’re road-tripping, all you need is a roof over your head, and you’ll find a way to sleep.

After a hot shower, we grabbed breakfast in a parking lot filled with food carts. It was like a food court of carts. Mexican, ethnic, vegan (of course) and egg specialties were all represented.

From there, we headed back to get ready for the match. We made it to the park about 2:50 p.m. It only took 15 minutes of searching to park before we eventually bit the bullet and paid $8.50.

We got into line and found our seats in the north end of PGE Park with the rest of the Timbers Army.

The Timbers Army is the supporters group for the Portland Timbers.

It could be the welcoming people. It could be all energy of rooting for a common goal. It could even be that, unlike their Seattle counterpart, about 95 percent of their merchandise is fan driven.

That organic growth can be felt throughout the stadium. This is not the product of a flashy and elaborate market ploy. This team belongs to the people.

We chanted, sang and willed the boys on. Both teams converted some chances and missed some crucial ones.

We rode that emotional roller coaster for an amazing 95 minutes. As the final whistle blew, the game ended in a draw, 3-3.

However, due to the Timbers 2-1 loss in the first leg, we lost the semifinal 5-4.

One of the most alluring things about soccer fans is their resiliency. Immediately after the final whistle, most of the army, although many teary eyed, began chanting “Rose city till I die, rose city till I die, I know I am, I’m sure I am, rose city till I die.” When the players came over to applaud the fans for their season-long support, the crowd began singing the chorus of “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life” as well as chanting “When I root, I root for the Timbers.” After the game, we thanked Alan for his hospitalities and drove home. The drive back took a much more somber tone. We still sang songs and exchanged inappropriate stories, but this time, we spoke about what could have been.

After logging 720 miles in roughly 36 hours, we have nothing but fond memories of our Portland journey. The only thing we would change is the result. We would have liked nothing more than to make that journey again this weekend to the finals.

As one member of the Timbers Army, Bix, posted on a message board, “I never signed on for silverware. I signed on for the ride.” I couldn’t have said it any better. We support our teams, no matter who it is, for the ride. Their triumphs are our triumphs, and their defeats are our defeats.

True fans are true fans. Those people who question why we devote our hearts and souls to something that matters so little, in the big picture sense, will never understand.

Journalist Eduardo Galeano sums up the raw emotion fans feel at the end of the season better than my words ever could.

“And then the sun goes down, and so does the fan. Shadows fall over the emptying stadium. On the concrete terracing a few fleeting bonfires burn, while the lights and voices fade. The stadium is left alone and the fan, too, returns to his solitude: to the I who had been we.”