assembling the great american road trip

on the key ingredients of a cultural fantasy

on the road near Frisco, CO

I had a big decision to make in the spring of 2022. 

After a year of waitressing in a Colorado ski town, I wanted to move—not back home, not to a different city in the Rockies—somewhere entirely new.

So I schemed for a few weeks and settled on two courses of action:

1. Borrow my dad’s Honda to travel cross-country solo for six months and write about small towns dangling from American interstates like charms, or… 

2. Move to Ireland and study literature in Dublin.

My eventual acceptance letter to Trinity College led me to #2. There I met a Luxembourgish girl named Cecelia: we quickly became the best of friends, and I’ve missed her ever since I moved back to the States. The last time we saw each other, she was chiseling away at her anthropology degree in Stockholm.

Cecelia is enviably well-traveled. I swoon when she talks of the lavender fields that perfume her family’s Uzés villa, when she sends me pictures of Tuscan church ceilings or the trails she hiked in Norway.

Now that she’s defended her thesis (congrats love!), she’s coming to visit the states for three whole weeks. She’s never been to the US.

What else could I suggest besides a road trip? 

Zipping up and down the West Coast with my family was the highlight of my childhood. We could branch off towards Idaho, Utah, or Montana depending on the season. America’s vast geography flew by us in blurred color, an ever-changing backdrop to the VHS tapes my brother and I watched on repeat in the backseat. Falling asleep in the shoulders of deep red mountains and waking up to a bright, foggy coast—I thought my parents knew every road in the country.

There’s far more than just logistics to plan out. While I determine the cost of gas, where to camp, what to eat, etc.—I want to relate all the key ingredients of the perfect American road trip to someone who’s never been.

This is all I know so far:

An early start

Every great road trip (at least, in my family) begins around 4 or 5 in the morning. Exhaustion is inevitable; you might as well cut to the chase. Bring plenty of pillows and blankets to greet the highway sun half-drowsy, half-vigorous.

a sunrise, somewhere

A cooler, stuffed with snacks

I’m not sure what psychological effect made this so wonderful as a child—just a box full of lunch meats, fruit, and leftovers to survive on—until, of course, a good coffee shop or 24-hour diner approaches.

in Breckenridge, CO

Eventually a gas station pit stop calls for too-salty chips, Coke, and a bag of powdered doughnuts—though you might want to hold off on the soda; there might be a cherry limeade in store at Sonic.

Once I was old enough to help drive, to-go cups of coffee (ideally Dutch Bros or other local chains) became increasingly vital to power through long drives of stagnant scenery: grey road and tan farmland.

All quick treats and indulgences are permitted with the understanding that it’s fine—we’re on a road trip.

An eye for the right stops

somewhere between CO and NM

Half-conscious pacing around highway rest areas to stretch your aching legs is a rite of passage. The bathrooms aren’t often clean, but they exist. The people-watching is top-notch, and there’ll likely be a few happy dogs to pet and vending machines to stare at until realizing you have no cash. 

Antique stores, fruit stands, and roadside scenic views (anyone bring quarters for the big binoculars?) shouldn’t be missed. Each car departure is a chance to chat with locals, try regional cuisines, and catch sights you might never see again (however bizarre they might be.)

a must see!!!

So much fun of a road trip happens behind the wheel: windows down, music loud, landscape unfolding mile-by-mile. But the core of an American road trip is America, and it has to be touched, seen, and lived in-person.

A blend of good conversation, music, and silence

A desperate game of I Spy might hit between hours 7 and 8 of a long drive, breaking up silence or keeping everyone entertained. Pushing through the boredom, there’s likely honest, compelling conversation on the other side.

American highways can be liminal spaces depending on the hour: imagine your headlights shining against pitch-black night, no other cars in sight, with miles and miles to go. There’s no quicker way to feel normal again than talking with whoever’s with you—if they aren’t asleep in the passenger seat.

There are truths shared on road trips, histories told, and promises made that strengthen your bond to fellow passengers in a way no other scenario could foster.

Hiking and camping, where possible

If your car can stand a little off-roading, there’s no greater way to stretch your legs than soaking in nature on foot. Camping is far cheaper than a hotel for the night—as long as it’s warm enough to sleep outside and you have enough resources on hand.

Nature is great from a car, but it can’t compare to sleeping in it.

hiking up mt. rainier, WA

There’s a charm to eating, drinking, and sleeping with limited tools. An outdoor extraordinaire I have yet to write about, a good friend named Eve that I hiked through Washington with completely blew my mind when she drank from a river with a filtration water bottle. The day before, we’d eaten snow off the ground 7,000 feet up Mount Rainier (filtered river water tasted better).

Car camping is just as memorable if you aren’t fond of sleeping on the ground, especially since twinkly lights can be involved—another one of Eve’s aesthetic essentials I’ll be sure to copy.

somewhere beyond mt. baker, WA

Appreciation for this wildly beautiful landscape

America’s landscape diversity is simply astounding. Driving from the Rockies to Santa Fe, you’ll trade snowy peaks for arid desert within just five hours.

Stop at the Great Sand Dunes National Park on the way, and you’ll feel like you’ve left earth.

where even is this really

Driving from the Smoky Mountains of North Carolina heading east, you’ll hit coastline after six-ish hours. Congested, busy cities like Minneapolis reveal lush lakes populated largely by red-eyed loons in only three hours.

And that’s only what I’ve seen—stories of the Florida panhandle, the foliage of New England, and little Appalachian mountain towns I hear from friends and family entice me to keep driving around.

off the coast of oregon, 2018

Cecelia and I will start our journey in the Pacific Northwest, so we plan to take HWY 101 up the coast. We anticipate seeing evergreen forests on the edge of the ocean, bathed in mysterious fog, and, hopefully(!!), breaching whales off the coast of the San Juan Islands.

While we’re adding to this list as we plan, the goal isn’t to check everything off; I want to share the comfort of American roads that wind and roll, never truly ending.

w/ love,

Constanze

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PS: comment with your road trip memories! what didn’t i mention, or what do you resonate with? <3