The open road sets the scene for the ultimate American adventure. Pioneers ventured through vast plains to reach California’s blue waters in the 1800s; hippies drove back from California to Louisiana on motorcycles in the 1960s. Restless young adults today drive on personal quests to Colorado and Washington.
At the risk of sounding cheesy, the American highway — be it the I-40, I-80, I-10 or any of the others — takes you on as much of a spiritual journey as it does a physical one.
But let’s be honest: Cross-country road tripping, especially if you are going it alone, can be mind-numbingly boring — like “I’m going to kill myself if I have to look at the road for one more second” boring.
This is why the “spiritual journey” that road trippers most often share in common is the five stages of grief, or what hospital patients go through when they’re told they’re terminally ill.
Not convinced? Let us elaborate.
Denial and isolation
The first stage of grief is to deny the reality of the situation.
As you stare at the desert wasteland rolling past you, unable to distinguish one mile from the next, you tell yourself you’re following in the footsteps of American pioneers, and you might even feel special at touching a part of our country’s history that most Americans never will.
This adventure will be awesome and exhilarating! And American!
Eight or nine hours into a 30- to 40-hour drive, the reality sets in that you’re just driving a painfully long way from point A to point B by yourself. You’re tired; your muscles start to ache, and your eyes want a break.
The anger kicks in when this moment hits: You’re not even at the halfway mark.
The normal reaction to feelings of helplessness is the need to regain control.
Around the halfway point, you start to bargain with yourself, using your diet as your primary bargaining chip. If you can get so far without stopping, you deserve that McDonald’s Big Mac or a Dairy Queen large milkshake. Don’t try to justify it; just go for it.
Life’s too short and the drive is too long to eat right the whole way.
Past the halfway mark, dark thoughts begin to creep in — thoughts you usually banish from your mind with the help of everyday routines, deadlines and trivial errands.
Thoughts of “What am I doing with my life?” and “Maybe I made a huge mistake by breaking up with him” pop up among the endless rows of cattle and strong smells of piss and manure as you pass through Amarillo, Texas. Bills pile up in your head, important tasks left undone.
Why is being an adult so hard?
At some point, usually with four to five hours remaining, the mind empties.
You enter into the state of ultimate nonchalance. No more excitement, anger or depression. The bills will get paid, or they won’t. Things will work out. You’ll get to the destination when you get there.
In the era of to-do lists, obligations and work, we live in a state of constant stress and guilt over not getting enough done. The beauty of the long road trip is that you’re doing just enough of something to allow yourself a day of nothing.