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That's what happened on my three and one half week, 9800+ mile road trip in the fall of 2002, at least that's what someone with a hidden camera, or access to the credit card account data could tell you about my trip. Travel is supposed to change one, improve one, broaden one's character, soothe one's soul, etc. etc. Presumably that isn't the sort of thing that shows up on a credit card statement.
And indeed, it doesn't. Perhaps I can suggest a bit of what happened inside. I did a lot of hiking during the summer preceding my trip, some with various friends, and some alone. I liked, in particular, to hike to alpine lakes, ideally ones in glacial cirques, and dip or swim in them. I would do this entirely alone on occasion, other times with friends taking pictures or motion pictures.
Hiking is something which is better when it takes a lot of hours and occurs far away from interstates and cities (i.e. a long drive there and back). I like to drive, as I don't get car sick when I do (unless I try to read). I had hoped I could get well and truly bored while driving, which only occasionally happens while hiking. Unfortunately, boredom takes hundreds of miles to set in for me, and by then, fugue state is likely and I'm afraid I'm going to fall asleep. So I learned to listen to books read aloud, and NPR, things I previously had no particular taste for.
I have never had a great sense of direction, but when you are pointed consistently east (or west) and only occasionally depart from it to eat or pee or gas up or sleep, it's easy to learn to orient by the sun (or moon, or even the stars on a crisp fall night). I had a few maps, but no atlas. I had an interstate guide and tour books for most of the trip. Navigating by glancing at a map or book positioned between the hands on the wheel does more to reinforce orientation in reality than any other exercise I've tried. I'm starting to have a sense of direction.
I adapted so completely to long days of driving that after having been home a few days, I stopped out of a Barnes and Noble at Dusk to see a waxing gibbous full moon and immediately thought, "Wow, with light that good, I could lay down another 2-300 miles before I had to stop for the night. I really should get going."
I don't feel at home in my condo, my neighborhood or my city the way I did before I left. I'm not sure what to do about that, other than plan my next trip: Vegas, Grand Canyon and Moab. I plan to leave in a little over two weeks. In the meantime, I've scheduled my first hike this Saturday and I'm trying to remember how to avoid eating, now that I'm back in a place with a completely stocked kitchen. Self-control is hard.
Good news: after a couple more weeks rolled by, I felt a lot more at home -- and the self-control got easier.
People, women in particular, but in general, worry when someone, especially a woman, road trips alone. They question my choice, they wonder if I have any fear, they suggest that having someone else along would make it safer. In my opinion, most travel companions increase the likelihood of getting lost, or otherwise into trouble, and don't necessarily help to get out of trouble that one does encounter. I have a black belt. I have a credit card with a high limit, paid off every month. I have a cell phone. If I'm in a car accident, whoever came with me would probably be in it, too. Boredom is a problem, but one readily solved with money. I saw a friend from college, a coworker from a previous job, family, and friends close enough to be family celebrating a wedding. I don't think it's possible to be lonely in such a context.
In talking to people about the concern of women traveling alone, I have met women who road tripped alone, sometimes when moving, sometimes for fun. It's rare for anyone other than a truck driver, traveling salescritters, or RV owners to put the kind of mileage I put on, at least in less than a month. But I think that's more because it is difficult to afford to travel this way, both in time and in money, than because of any other difficulties or dangers. It is safe, easy and fun to travel a long ways alone, if your car is in good condition and you respect road conditions, your ability to remain alert and the weather. Also, if you think to stop somewhere, pull in and have bad feelings, moving on is probably best.
It is wonderful to travel long distances alone, quickly. One is forced to prioritize brutally. I don't believe you can drive for 10, 12, 14 hours if you are tense. You must remain relaxed. You must find a way to remain quiet yet alert -- and if you eat or drink constantly, you lose time to additional stops. If you fail to meet a need, the road will brutally punish you. Fail to hydrate -- get cramps. Fail to pee -- get cramps. Eat inappropriately, or stay too tense -- constipation.
For one day, or even two, perhaps three, you can pile on the miles and the hours and blow through those needs, but if you are going to cross the country, then meander up and down the coast, only to return across country later, you need to pace yourself. It's a full time job. It's an overtime job. Failure to plan adequately punishes you with more hours and more miles if you take a wrong turn and do not catch it quickly. I found I had no time for TV, or even books. Each night I reviewed the next day's route and found good sections of road with services where I could expect to refill the tank or refill me. I stopped often to refill the water bottle from the jug in the back.
Significant lunch and dinner stops broke up the day and reduced the buzz of the road, renewing my concentration. I drove most days in three stages: get up and eat the continental breakfast at the hotel, drive; eat lunch, drive until dusk; eat dinner, drive until no longer able to maintain focus, find hotel, check in, sleep. I tried for 800-850 miles on a travel day, which usually left me enough time to catch one brief off-road attraction, or go to one store quickly. I tried to combine these stops with other mandatory stops, and almost never scheduled them at the beginning or end of a day (that would be a waste, as I had no buzz at the beginning, and at the end, I would sleep. I wonder if a car with truly soft suspension would make more things possible, by eliminating the problem of cumulative vibration). I learned to review rest area information about upcoming road work. The only TV I watched was the Weather Channel, and that only at the end of the trip, when the good weather that had trailed me about the country finally gave out.
My longest range plans involved finding places to do laundry. Other than that, I knew I had a date to pick people up at the airport, a wedding to attend and a date to drop people off. I knew I wanted to see my sister before the wedding and my friend Roland after. The rest I worked out in stages as I went along, with a box of AAA tour books, maps and a Lonely Planet USA guide book to help me along the way. I had a nearly useless TripTik (changed plans too often). On previous trips, I had valued hotel amenities because I actually spent time in the hotel. On this trip, I could not have cared less. By the end of this trip, my goal had become getting used to Motel 6 -- it would be so much cheaper.
I think it would be a better world if women did this as often as men. We would learn to drive better. We would learn to navigate. We would learn to calm ourselves. We would pay attention to hazards that weren't strangers, especially strange men, and we would respect the environment for the continuous stream of manageable hazards which it presents. We would respect the protection traditionally offered women by men from these hazards -- and we would be able to offer that protection better ourselves and we would need it less.
We would be whole persons, adult persons, mobile citizens in the world of the interstate and the cult of the car.
I can make a solid case for how cars are evil, and the interstate system a heinous act that has slowly killed rail transport, facilitated the car and sprawl in general. But I think it is worth noting that the interstate system is a rapacious disease upon our great land largely because it makes easy for anyone -- male or female, young or old, fully abled or otherwise -- something that was once expensive and difficult, if not impossible: the ability to navigate one of the larger countries in the world in a manageable amount of time, by oneself, at one's own pace and schedule.
You could memorize the entire interstate system. You, personally, the way you've memorized a handful of streets around your home, place of employment, the residences of your friends and family and the streets that connect you to them. If you don't, you can pick up a few organizing principles. In a town, roads might be streets east and west, but avenues north and south, or might be consecutively named alphabetically, or the city might be separated into sections with some identifying marker. In the United States, interstates that run north-south are odd; those that run east-west are even. There are rules for roads that go through cities, vs. those that go around them. If you haul out a map, you notice things like, the east west routes get larger in number moving north in the country; the north south routes get larger in number moving east.
Books are published describing all of the services on all of the exits of the entire interstate system. They are affordable, sustained by a market of RVers who need to know where they can find their preferred franchise or at least a place to gas up that their vehicle will fit into.
All of this makes it simple and manageable to travel, in a way that was not true even fifteen years ago, much less thirty, and will only become more true over time.
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Copyright Rebecca Allen, 2002.
Created October 25, 2002 Modified November 25, 2002