Every summer, we packed our busted up 1989 Plymouth reliant. It was a clunky, cramped vehicle that housed two parents and two kids on a trek from Virginia to Merritt Island, Florida, where my grandparents lived. My parents concluded this trip could only be done in one day —or so you’d have thought — because hotels were a foreign concept.
It made for a long 13 hours, though we generally shaved an hour or two off as dad sent our car screaming down I-95. I’m still in awe that we never got pulled over. Sometimes, we shared the backseat with a dog who weighed 90 pounds and who wasn’t shy in letting you know he liked you.
Despite this chaos, we got a full snapshot of America on this drive — seeing the scenery evolve as we immersed ourselves in the moment. There was a spirit of adventure we embraced. Shannon and I did the “honk” gesture to passing truck drivers, who sometimes startled us by obliging our request.
We played card games and read books, avoiding the boredom these trips induced. We listened to audio books from the library, which consisted of 8 to 12 cassettes per book which we were constantly fumbling with as chapters ended. It was a long trip for two kids in a compact car.
We eventually upgraded to a minivan, and felt like we were living high, though my folks were too cheap to tint the windows, putting our fair skinned genetics at the full mercy of the sun, turning us into wilting fire ants as our clear windows doubled as magnifying glasses. So why did we do these trips? They seem quite arduous, right? As many would remember, plane tickets were relatively expensive compared to today. The industry was much less efficient and far less competitive.
Spending $200 to $300 per person in the late 80s and early 90s was a ton of money for a young family. And so most of us stuck it out for road trips, which were extremely common. But less so now.
Road trips of World War II. Many of the men who enlisted were flown abroad, thousands of miles from the small town they’d never left. And when they returned after the war, many of them had the full travel bug — realizing there was a huge and flourishing world outside their hometown.
This was also when the construction of interstate highways came into bloom. During the war, legislatures realized just how disconnected our states were and how difficult it was for some people to get to military bases and transport basic goods. Mass road construction abounded just as Americans were started owning homes and cars.
There was a period of post-war prosperity, with millions of Americans having more spending money and free time than ever before. And, through this perfect storm, American families filled highways as road trips became central components of American life. My grandfather, depicted in this article’s cover photo, fit the road tripper demographic perfectly.
Like many, he grew up in poverty during the Great Depression. He was a World War II pilot whose first time in a plane was during a training flight. He also caught the travel bug but insisted we drove everywhere.
Splurging on a plane ticket was considered an extreme luxury. The road trip was — for better and worse — a period of unchallenged time spent together as a family. Surely, my sister and I had our squabbles.
But so many of our memories were formed in those back seats. We had no smartphones or devices to entertain us for the trip, outside of the 8-bit Gameboy, which occasionally came out. We had actual conversations and spent hours in close proximity.
We stopped and looked out across other incredible landscapes and monuments. We played road games, including doing scavenger hunts for letters on signs, pointing out things we saw on the road. There were markers that told us we were getting closer to Florida.
The first, was (a massive fireworks market that is familiar to anyone whose been on I-95) — which generally meant we were 25% of the way there. Then came the increasing number of Georgia license plates. Then came the Florida license plates.
The trees on the side of the road began to less resemble the dense, deciduous forests of the north, and more the subtropical foliage of the south. Pines gave way to palm trees. The air took on a more humid, salty tang.
True excitement set in when billboards for Disney World and various theme parks began appearing — signaling that we only had a couple more hours to go. Rest stops began featuring citrus stands. The names of towns began sounding more like vacation destinations — Cocoa Beach, St.
Augustine, Tampa — evoking images of us playing on the beach and running down boardwalks. We could feel the anticipation. The and began a decades long process of improving the industry, allowing for more competition, reduced barriers to entry, and eventually — improved prices which continues to this day — at the expense of comfort.
Combine this with objectively higher gas prices for cars, and it just doesn’t make sense for many families to be taking long road trips (the cheapest gas price I remember is 83 cents a gallon in the early 1990s — though I’m sure a few old timers reading this have me beat by huge strides). Cars have also even when discounting for inflation, making even the teenaged road trip far less common. And lastly, the rise of digital media has made the appeal of the more patience-requiring road trip less attractive.
The desire for instant entertainment has put the final nail in the coffin in this practice. Road trips have been an unfortunate cultural casualty over the past two decades that may never return. No, I’m not saying everyone should do a 14 hour road trip because they are missing out.
But I would at least consider doing it once and also remembering what these trips taught us. There are better ways of doing it than we did — breaking the trip up into smaller stints. At a minimum, try to be mindful about the family trips you take.
Open your eyes and see what is happening around you. Enjoy the sensory experiences they bring, and take time to talk to one another rather than stare at a screen. The biggest lesson for me is that one should let the journey be just important as the destination.
Be deliberate in how you experience things, fully immersing yourself. Don’t let every child succumb to the iPad babysitter. Note the changes you see as you go from one place to another.
Appreciate the novelty of the food and even the way people dress. Does the air feel different? Do the plants and animals all look unique? Let these experiences calm you and allow you to stretch out your time more, rather than feed into dopamine hits with devices all day. Road trips offer you the ability to see so much more of the country than sitting in a plane does.
It might be a dying practice, but it’s worth trying at least once. And if you do — make sure to take it all in. I'm a former financial analyst turned writer out of sunny Tampa, Florida.
I began writing eight years ago on the side and fell in love with the craft. My goal is to provide non-fiction story-driven content to help us live better and maximize our potential..
