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If Girl Scouts issued a Road Warrior badge, I’d have earned it ten times over by now. In the last eight months, I’ve visited 22 states and logged more than 18,000 miles in my open-ended road trip across America. My boyfriend and I are still speaking, remarkably, and our two Chihuahuas are alive and well. Much of that credit goes to packing wisely—ensuring we brought the right things and that those things were easily accessible. (Bumming around Asia and Australia for a year with nothing but backpacks also helped.) Here’s how we did it—and what we learned along the way.
Two small suitcases are better than one big bag.
Having been on the road since February, we've endured 100-degree heat waves in Texas and hail storms in South Dakota. Our luggage contains both snow boots and sandals, down jackets, and swimsuits. We’ve found it makes good sense to separate the clothing seasonally into two carry-on-sized suitcases instead of one large check-in bag. This way, we don’t have to schlep a beast of a bag into each new hotel room or Airbnb rental; we simply bring in that day’s weather-appropriate suitcase and leave the other one in the car.
Clothing aside, group like with like.
My boyfriend does a lot of cooking on the road. We keep all of his kitchen gear (cast-iron pans, good chef’s knives, a portable pour-over coffee station) in a clear plastic container. Occasionally we camp, and so all of the camping gear (tent and footprint, air mattresses, and sleeping bags) goes in another container. That way, when we need something, we know exactly where it is.
Be prepared for emergencies—especially snack attacks.
Of course we have a spare tire, car jack, jugs of potable water, and a first-aid kit in our trunk. We even have AAA membership. But the thing we’ve found unequivocally useful on the road, time after time, are snacks. The healthier, the better. Our favorite driving snacks are dried mango, roasted almonds and cashews, buffalo jerky, and Clif bars. Sugary soda is best avoided, so we also take pains to fill and chill two 1-liter Vapur Element collapsible water bottles before setting out.
Everything important should be kept in your glove compartment.
I’m not just talking about the vehicle registration and owner’s manual. Our glove compartment is a chaotic wonderland of baby wipes and napkins, forks and spoons, salt and pepper packets, bottles of hot sauce, Ziploc bags, and garbage bags, toilet paper, aspirin, emergency hand warmers, extra USB cords, a 12-volt smartphone adapter, an Opinel pocket knife, a bottle opener, and 100 SPF sunblock. (That last one has proven especially helpful when the sun beats through the window, threatening to give me the driver’s equivalent of a farmer’s tan.)
Entertainment is essential.
Anyone who has ever driven for a considerable length of time in America knows the radio outside major cities is, in a word, limited. Sometimes you luck out and catch the tail-end of “My Best Friend’s Girl” or “Sweet Home Alabama,” but more often than not, the radio frequencies are an exercise in static torture. A subscription to Pandora radio costs us $5 bucks a month and takes the hassle out of making custom mixes. That said, it only works where streaming is available. When we’re farther afield, we turn to audio books (Bill Bryson FTW!); episodes of ‘Real Time With Bill Maher,’ and smart, funny podcasts like ‘Mortified’ and Chris Hardwick’s ‘Nerdist’). Nothing makes the time fly faster than a good laugh.
Invest in an America the Beautiful pass.
Hands down, it’s the best $80 we spent all year. Issued by the National Parks Service, the annual pass has gotten us into more than 30 parks and monuments—and that’s just a drop in the bucket. It’s good for entrance and day-use fees at more than 2,000 federal recreation sites, including some very pricey places like the Grand Canyon ($30 a piece for one vehicle). This also takes the pressure off "maximizing" our time at each park: If we just want to, say, cut through Zion National Park when traveling from Kanab, Utah to Las Vegas, we can do so without feeling guilty about not devoting a full day to it.
Don’t be afraid to ship stuff home.
I’ve got a very small car (a 2010 Nissan Versa hatchback), a boyfriend who loves to cook, and two live animals. The dogs alone have three blankets, a bed, a heavy screw-top food bin, and a mansion-like crate. Add to that my obsession with vintage and a need to pick through every antiques store within a 50-mile radius, and we’ve acquired a lot of stuff. But we’ve also learned to relinquish it, having probably shipped home 15 boxes of said stuff to date. It’s not cheap, but it’s so much better than passing up that OMG-I-have-to-have-it 1960s table lamp from a hoarder’s lair in Knoxville. Lucky you if you’re a Marie Kondo disciple who never buys anything on the road. For the rest of us, however, recognize your addiction and plan accordingly—which means storing packing tape and scissors in the car at all times, and picking up boxes and bubble wrap on an as-needed basis. If you can't kick the habit, you might as well cater to it.
