Top Ten Things to Bring on a Road Trip

The essential shot.
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1. a car. Obviously the most explicit, and uncreative ‘thing.’ But I will linger at this selection for two reasons. 1, you must love your car, or truck, or whatever. To say you must love to drive cheats you out of any credibility. You must, however, love to drive your car. What is needed in a road trip car? Longevity (unless you’re hoping for the thrill of being stranded in the middle of the wilderness, touché), comfort, a charming ride, amenities. A worthy radio. Your car will become a part of you, close to you, the tender reason for a softer rump. It better get you from point a to z like a trusted friend. The second reason I linger, I offer these words of caution: cars are not beds. They are not designed for what you’re about to do. Your legs will cramp, you’ll know your blindspot like a rubik’s cube, and the engine may turn on you in the desert. No matter how much you love to drive, in the States, hours and hours and hours and hours and hours of corn is nearly unavoidable.

Yellowstone - roaring mountain
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2. Music. I got tired of my music in a few weeks. If you have an ipod, bring it and steal songs from people you visit. Don’t count on ready-made playlists and albums to satisfy the hunger for melodies our roads nourish. But without any music, a good third of the country will only offer you Christian radio and bad, twangy, pop. Bring extra cash for cds. Digital radio didn’t make the cut because it censors the diversity of culture that’s evidenced in local radio programming. The music will connect your memories. When I got hit driving to high school by an SUV, Sunday Bloody Sunday was on the radio, and will indelibly conjure a feeling of shock. Similarly, the three minutes I spent singing along to Stoned Love in Napa has captured a gorgeous spring day without a care in the world. The music will only strengthen whatever you’re driving for, because we know that you aren’t driving to get to point z.

Your car will become a part of you, close to you, the tender reason for a softer rump.

Rehoboth Beach
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3. optional: a GPS machine. It allows you to navigate between two types of driving adventure. And it makes the chances of your getting lost slim to nil. Which brings up the two kinds of adventure: maybe you want to get lost, maybe you don’t. Is that part of the thrill? Then turn it off. A relationship will blossom with the disembodied voice who may lead you down a dirt path when you want to hypotenuse-it, or finds you gas in the middle of the night. I recommend them firstly, then, for the company of the disembodied voice, and second for the delights of heretofore impossible detours. The concept of heading out without a direction or care and then happening upon your most treasured destination, or road, is made not only safe and carefree, but rather likely. Sometimes she (or he) can lead, sometimes you just have to yell at them, because the more bold you are (or get), the more you’ll find your disembodied friend gets it wrong. But by that time, you’re such a veteran, that the roads system will be second-nature, and you’ll barely need ‘em.

4. a sleeping bag. also, bring a tent. Maybe a pillow. The tradition of road tripping has a tremendous legacy of near-foolish pursuits, often with ‘or bust’ in the signage. There were many nights, somewhere out in the middle of nowhere North Dakota, when I was alone on the range, save for an 18-wheeler every few miles, when I watched a yellow-pitched sunset spread over a wintry sky, and as the trails of twilight darkened the firmament, the draw of an endless road, (and certainly, in less romantic retrospect, the lack of state park land to stop on) persuaded my tired mind to continue driving. It was during these nights, usually sometime after one am, that I would realize not only was the thought of driving all night dangerous, it was downright wasteful. The views of the barren and beautiful Dakota country are not one to pass in the night. Those nights, and many others, were spent in the comfort of my vehicle, in the downy pillow of my sleeping bag, scrunched unpleasantly, but righteously, on the drivers’ seat, evermore. Too many friends and friends’ parents have ‘tsk-tsk’ed my spending nights on the car side of a truck stop for me to tell you “Go out and Sleep Only by the Trucks in Corn-Country Wastelands!”  but I again, implore your cautious minds to bear my witness, because I lived quite happily as a lady rubber tramp. Without my sleeping bag, however, I would have been toast.

And, for all those gorgeous, jaw dropping, thank-your-maker and bless your heart moments of camping out at National Parks, the tent is a fine addition.

5. The America the Beautiful National Park Pass. For about eighty bucks, you can get into every national park, monument, and get discounts on campsites, for a year. Most of the big parks charge $25 entry fees. Now, I love to support the National Parks. And if most of my budget didn’t go to oil companies, maybe I’d be more of a philanthropist. Attention senior citizens: the pass costs you a whopping ten bucks. This little card is still the most treasured item in my wallet. Simply put, I saved hundreds of dollars with this, and probably went to more monuments and parks because of it. There’s no good reason not pick one up at your first park.

6. Camera. I took thousands of photos. You can imagine, with my inability to be succinct with words, what this penchant for abundance might do to my shutterbuggery. How do you nounify that word, anyway? The use of many words in lieu of finding the perfect one applies to the amateur photographer searching for the right lighting, angle, and settings, don’t you agree? How lucky that you’ll be driving through such beautiful and harsh territories that some days, it won’t matter how half-assed you shoot a picture. It’s those other days, when too many clouds are overhead to capture the intense deep reds of New Mexico’s Sangre de Christo’s mountains, that I took a hundred unremarkable photos. Moreover, no matter how genius your memory is, without the photos, how will you ever remember where you went when you’re really, really old? And furthermore, people are more likely to believe you if you have a photo. Number 6 is indispensable on a trip and everyone knows it. Oooh, and most thrilling, are the shots you take *while* driving. These action shots demand a point and shoot digital camera, so be sure to bring one in addition to your professional grade, which would of course be a hazard to manually focus while behind the wheel.

7. A picnic blanket. I didn’t bring one. So I used my travel towel. Which aside from serving as a protective layer between me and grass and sand, just didn’t offer the warmth, flattening powers, or area that a picnic blanket could. I recommend one because there should be days when you drive by a picture-perfect meadow on a bright, sunny day, and you’ll need to pull over, settle on the grass, and read or nap, or snack for that matter. That option should be open to you. Also, on beaches. A beach blanket can be interchangeable with the picnic blanket. This particular item represents the time you spend out of your car during the day. Most days on the Blue Ridge Parkway I stopped for an hour to snack and read, and it felt strange at first, especially because I was always alone on the grass- most tourists didn’t leave their cars. But it was soon a favorite pastime. I believe that I won Parkway because I got out of the car and had picnics. So you should bring one, too.

8. The Lonely Planet USA book. For those planning your road trip elsewhere, this is me recommending travel companion books, even if you want to just hit the road and get lost. I especially enjoyed this book as a citizen and product of the culture, reading blurbs and introductions for more interesting people who want to know what Americans are like. Beyond that, it’s a fantastic resource. About seven days into my road trip, I was driving into Lewes, Delaware off of a ferry, at seven at night, and had no idea what was out there. The avenue of departure from the boat inland was unlit and naked beach that was closed for winter, and I had no reservations in town. When I checked my companion book, I found that a short drive away was the dandy town of Rehoboth Beach, where my favorite brewery was listed as having a pub. This made for an overjoyed Sara, and much clapping of hands. Further, the book informed me that the brewery itself was a quick jaunt inland, and throughout the trip offered me oodles of interesting history, traditions, and learnings galore. So please, bring books.

9. A journal. You may be hi-tech and have a laptop, but there’s something intimate about penning thoughts in a bound book, maybe bundled in your sleeping bag, inside a tent perched on a mountain nowhere near Wi-Fi. And especially if you aren’t bringing the world with you on a computer, the journal provides space for depositing little details you’re sure to forget otherwise. And if you’re a packrat like me, it can hold coasters, brochures, quotes, and information about appealing people you’re sure to meet. That is to say, it’s storage for everything you’ll want to remember that your camera won’t capture. There were two towns I drove through in northern Florida (which really is southern Georgia) whose church signs seemed to be conversing. I had to jot down: “Jesus is coming ! – Matthew” next town “I’m going to come again! – Jesus.” These jolly memories (and any breakthroughs you may reach as a result of introspection during countless hours behind the wheel) are just the sort of pith you want filling a journal.

10. Maps. Is this redundant? Did I already cover this with the GPS machine? OK, then consider getting a AAA membership, or using a friend who has one. Free of charge, you can get books for every single state, which catalogue lodgings, and a few restaurants, in most towns in the country. Thus, this recommendation is another in the category of resources. I am all about resources, I think the more data you can bring at your disposal, the better. But you might not want that kind of trip. In that case, I’ll break the rules, and say, do not bring anxiety. I eased anxiety by bringing data, and truly, many people will never go on a road trip due to anxiety. So shed any of your irrational aversion to isolation and adventure, remember your cell phone, let people know where you are from time to time, and hit the road.