The key to your road trip might lie in the ideas of a philosopher from ancient Greece.
Writing towards the end of the 4th century BCE, Aristotle asserted that a successful dramatic story depends on the effective use of six elements: plot, character, thought, diction, music, and spectacle. In other words, a good theatrical story must be rivetingly told, populated by compelling personalities, driven by a big idea, articulated clearly, and amplified with a musical and visual style that highlights crucial moments.
While not an exact equivalence, Aristotle's theory of drama can be neatly applied to planning your trip and then hitting the road. After all, you have to decide where to go, and that requires you plot a course. Your proactive decision to make the trip has transformed you into a compelling character. And the reason for your big decision, your propulsive thought, serves as the catalyst that drives you toward your destination. Figure all that out, you can easily answer the question of, "who's going where and why?"
The only question that remains now is "how?" How are you getting there?
That "how" encompasses a lot. It covers Aristotle's final three elements of diction, music, and spectacle, and it includes, but isn't exclusive to, the food you eat, the tunes you listen to, and the textures of the places you visit. But answering all those questions depends on answering the biggest "how" of them all: mode of transportation. Our rules of the road state that you must drive to your destination, so, we need to figure out your vehicle.
The perfect vehicle of choice possesses three qualities. At the most basic level, your vehicle of choice needs to be capable of finishing the journey. Since few of you are riding on a straight shot, your transport must allow you comfort on the trek both while on the move and when stopped. Finally and on an existential level, your ride must serve the emotional purpose of the trip. If you're taking the journey of a lifetime, it seems counterintuitive to be unhappy with how you are getting there.
This is not to say you should forego your quest if you lack the absolutely perfect vehicle. However, keeping up good maintenance, planning your comfort requirements, and ensuring your emotional satisfaction will allow you to shift focus onto the trip's logistics once you begin. If it seems like I am stating the obvious, ask yourself how many trips you've experienced, seen, or heard about that went sideways because of breakdowns, discomfort, or being in the wrong headspace. Don't back out of a driveway or pull out of a lot until you are as close to being perfect in your surroundings as sanity will allow. I acknowledge that perfect should not be the enemy of the good, but to belabor the point I have made in earlier posts, winging it just won't cut it either.
I put out an APB on Facebook to get some thoughts on what my friends and listeners would choose to drive when heading in search of ideal experiences. There wasn't a lot of discussion of either pre-trip or vehicle upkeep, because most of my respondents are professional drivers or work in transportation. For them, making sure the vehicle is roadworthy and equipped to handle the selected terrain is a matter of reflex. In fact, I will probably go back to the well for their input on doing over-the-road diligence. The responses were predictably reaffirming. Consistently, their answers explained their choice of transportation as a way of explaining their reasons for the trip. The answers understood the need for a personal connection to the vehicle, were emotionally motivated, and in some cases, constituted a deal breaker of sorts. They were exactly what I was hoping to receive.
Mike Slater of Necronomnomnom fame and recurring Halloween guest would immediately head out in his car to Canon Beach, Oregon with his GPS settings on "avoid highways." But if he had his druthers, he would do the same trip in "a fancy-but-not-huge RV" and enlist the services of the kind of folks who listen to my show. Having a professional driver would allow him the chance to see the world he is moving through worry free and have company for campouts along the way. Mike's reply to my post opens up a future discussion about choosing copilots, shotgun riders, and conversational companions. But for today, it also serves as a reminder that sometimes you're not just picking the vehicle for yourself.
If Donald Nolen is only traveling with his brother-in-law, he's doing the trip on motorcycle. Reading his reply closely, I was delighted to discover his destination was the road itself. It's the ride in which he revels. But even on longer trips where actual destinations do take some priority, he occasionally has his wife and others follow in a car. They act as a spotter for him and his fellow riders while simultaneously bringing the luggage necessary for the places they are going. It allows him to stay on the bike. I dig Don's perspective. When you spend every working hour inside a cab behind the wheel, it's the last place you want to be when the time to relax arrives.
Is it any surprise that Shannon Currier, whose SEC Football trip we focused on in an earlier blog, gravitates towards an RV lifestyle? She hooked into the idea early in life after going on a family motorhome trip. It's easy to see her joining tailgating communities, "with an overhang and cute table and firepit for cooler evenings." In her response to my question, she reminds me that her focus on creature comforts is an outgrowth of being a hotel snob. However, I would remind both you and her that your vehicle of choice must satisfy the emotional core of the trip. If that means it has to allow you to roast and enjoy marshmallows in comfort, then make it happen.
Finally, my friend Kent Aldridge brings it all together with his comments. He is planning a trip that traces the Lewis and Clark Expedition. It includes historical sites, old time craft breweries, restaurants with game menus, and a few unique detours. He's bringing family memories with him in the shape of his late grandfather's Nissan Frontier. That piece of well-tuned machinery allows him to travel safely and comfortably, matches the demands of the route he is charting, and carries a bit of the spirit of the trip. An actual spirit. After all, that Frontier was originally owned by the man who filled Kent with a love of adventure and learning. It only makes sense that his grandfather is going to join him. When Kent has mapped it all out, made his reservations, and figured out what to bring and what to leave behind, what would you like to bet that the least of his concerns will be under the hood or in the cab of the vehicle he is starting?
To bring it back to Aristotle, this entire post is really about his second element of drama. It's about character. Character as in the nature of your trip. Character as in the quality of your transportation. And, ultimately, your own personal character. Do you choose to take the time to make sure you honor yourself? You do that by making sure you have just what you need to begin. The outset of your journey has one simple goal: start the engine and smile.
Just like Jerry Bowers here.
In honor of Jerry, Donald, Morgan, Tim, and all my friends who choose to open themselves to the open road by riding a motorcycle, I'll close it out with a quote from Robert M. Pirsig's classic "Zen and The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance."
"Sometimes it's a little better to travel than to arrive."