Solo Road Trip

I recently got to do a road trip solo, and it was well overdue.

You see, while there are many reasons to have passengers with you on a road trip – such as always having somebody available to push the car if it conks out because you haven’t changed the oil in about twenty-thousand miles – there are also multiple benefits to doing one solo. These include, but are not limited to, the following:

1.)    You can depart at any time, without having to wait for any riders to finish packing because they can’t determine just how many extra pairs of underwear to bring with them.

2.)    When your surefire shortcut adds three hours to your trip, nobody’s the wiser to your failings as a navigator.

3.)    If an eighty-seven year old lady passes you on the freeway, the incident will stay exclusively between you and her.

4.)    You can listen to whatever you want on the radio, even guilty pleasures such as John Denver or static.

5.)    You can stop for as many bathroom breaks as you see fit, which also allows you the freedom to consume as much coffee as you want.

6.)    You won’t feel as guilty if the seat next to you eventually fills up with the discarded wrappers of candy bars, fast food, chips, Little Debbies, and antacids.

7.)    You can sing out loud to the radio.

For the road trip that I just took, item #7 on the list was what I really took advantage of. You see, I live in the Twin Cities, where the average people-per-square-foot-of-land ratio sits roughly at 8. (This square foot is also shared with approximately eight-million mosquitoes, but that’s another story.) With such a dense population, it’s hard for me to find good times to sing in the car, since I always find myself surrounded by ten other vehicles - even when I’m in a carwash - and I tend to get stage fright if I know that others are watching me in my attempt to belt out “Amarillo By Morning.” (People also tend to think I’ve having some sort of attack when I’m trying to hit the high notes on “My Maria.”)

However, when traveling through the wilds of northern Wisconsin and Michigan, which is where my road trip was taking me, a person tends to have plenty of time to bellow out songs as loud as they want for as long as they want, just as long as they don’t mind deer giving them funny looks as they continually lunge out in front of the car.

Anyway, I took full advantage of my opportunity to sing, and I have to say that I was rusty. Songs I’d memorized the lyrics to years before had begun to disappear from my mind, leaving behind only fragments that I had to piece together the best I could via improvisation. (“On a warm summer’s evening, on a train bound for nowhere, I met up with a big bear, we were both on fire and weak…”) My voice, which was never that impressive to begin with, had eroded dramatically, to the point where I sometimes wondered if my engine was ceasing up – or perhaps exploding – as was I trying to sing the low parts to “Elvira.”

Still, despite my newfound failings, it was well worth it to just let it all hang out for a while. However, there was a price to be paid, as I finished the road trip with raw vocal cords, not to mention a rounder stomach, courtesy of a bit too much non-guilt snacking.

This leads me to a word of caution: If your self-control isn’t what you’d like it to be, try to limit your solo road trips to several times per year. If you don’t, you’ll probably end up with both laryngitis and the need to wear a girdle, and the eight-thousand mosquitos surrounding you in Minnesota will laugh at you for both.