Hit the Road, Jane

10 Questions To Ask Yourself Before You Do

by Lisa

You feel the call of the open road. You want to pack up your car, step on the gas, and leave your normal life behind -- for a little while, anyway. You want to experience the world...or at least as much as you can get to on four wheels.

I’ve been there, and you know what? I did it. Solo. It’s possible, doesn’t have to be expensive, and is a million percent worth it. Before you make the big decision and set out, however, here are ten questions to ask yourself. Be honest with your answers, and before you know it, you could be re-creating Kerouac’s On the Road -- with your own 21st Century girl style.

1. Do I Want To Bring Anyone Along? Are you yearning for a living by-your-own-wits, completely independent solo adventure? Or do you want to share the experience? Think carefully about this question. Having a road-trip companion can be great, but spending hours with the same person -- even someone you adore -- in the confines of a car can drive anyone to the brink of crazy. Just make sure everyone is on board -- with the plans, the goals, and the budget -- and make a pact to be extra considerate of each other before you go.
2. How Much Time Do I Have? Are you going for a week? A month? Six months? How much time you have will dictate how far you can get, what kind of a budget you’ll need...and whether anyone else has that kind of time to go along. Short trips are a way to get your feet wet without committing to a lengthy journey, but longer ones are the only way to really transform a road trip from a vacation into an experience...and will help create a better balance between driving and doing.
3. What’s My Budget? Road-tripping can be a really inexpensive way to travel. Yes, gas prices are tough, but aside from that it’s simple to eat cheaply, and if you are willing to stay with friends, in cheap motels, or, better yet, to camp, your road-trip dollar will go far. Think carefully about how much money you can save and how much you’re willing to spend per day. (I did my six week trip on an average of $81/day, and I probably could have shaved that even further!)
4. What’s the State of My Transportation? Do you have a car? Is it in good condition? Do you know how to handle minor issues, and do you have a service like AAA to call for major ones? It’s a good idea to have your mechanic give your car a once over before any big trip, and especially important for a long-term road trip.
5. Where Do I Want To Go? Do you want to head across the country, or do you want to stay closer to home? Maybe there’s a particular road you want to travel (route 66? The Pacific Coast Highway?) or activities you’re interested in (southern BBQ, National Parks, haunted places). Decide what your trip is about...what the theme will be...and go from there.
6. Where Can I Stay? Once you know where you’re going, take a look at what’s available for lodgings. Are the hotels and motels within your budget? Campgrounds where you can pitch your tent? Or maybe...
7. Who Do I Know? ...you could crash with friends. People are surprisingly willing to open up their homes when you’re passing through on an adventure like this. I was floored that even relatively minor acquaintances, when they heard I was driving around the country, offered to let me sleep on their futons and couches. They want to be a part of your adventure...so let them!
8. What Do I Need To Bring? The answer to this question depends on what you’ll be doing, how long you’ll be on the road, and what the weather will be like. Make sure you consider equipment you’ll need to buy if, for example, you’re camping and hiking. Also, there’s a temptation to overpack on a road trip since you can just cram everything into your trunk. Take it from me that you should treat this like any trip, try not to overpack, plan to wash clothes while you’re on the road, and be organized about packing and storage.
9. Can I Keep Myself Entertained? If you’re going alone, think hard about whether you like being alone. Sure, you’ll meet people on the road, you might visit friends, but there will be long hours in a car with only the radio for company. There are plenty of ways to keep from being bored, and the excitement and freedom of being out on the road can trump brief bouts of boredom, however, so don’t worry if it makes you a little nervous.
10. Am I Brave, Confident, Independent? Do I Want To Be? Solo road-tripping -- particularly for women -- can be a scary endeavor to contemplate. Many women I’ve talked to about road-tripping express concern for their safety, or worry that they wouldn’t be able to handle things on their own. They’re wrong. They can, and so can you...and figuring that out about yourself is freeing, invigorating, and teaches you something about yourself along the way.

Concerts, Confidence and Courage

by Lisa
I have a confession to make.

I love solo travel.  (That's not the confession...stick around a minute, I'm getting to it.)  When I'm traveling alone, I feel fearless about being alone.  I have no qualms about wandering museums, hiking trails, restaurants, and pubs by myself.  I am content with my own company, not shy about striking up conversations with others or tacking myself onto tour groups.

When I'm in my hometown, however, it's a different story.  (This is the confession part, for those playing along.)  I get nervous and self conscious when I eat alone in my hometown, or see a play, or a movie, or a museum, without having a friend or two along.  Why?  Maybe because, when I'm traveling solo, I'm the daring one, the interesting one, the trailblazer, who is grabbing life by the horns and enjoying the ride.  In my hometown, in contrast, I know a lot of people.  I should be able to find a companion, and if I don't have one -- even if I intended to be solo -- I feel self-conscious and judged by others.

I admit this is silly.  No one knows if I'm traveling or not.  I'm the only one who knows the difference.  And so, last Friday, I decided to try something new: act like a traveler in my own hometown.
It all started innocently enough.  I found out, a little late, that two of my current favorite bands were coming to town and performing in the same concert (Spoon and Phoenix, if anyone's interested).  Since I nearly missed this, the event was sold out.  The after-market brokers did have some pairs of tickets available, but at an astronomical price, and since most of my friends don't share my music taste, a pair of tickets wasn't really an option.  On the other hand, the single tickets were much cheaper.  And so I faced a dilemma.

Should I buy the single ticket, and see these bands I have been dying to see in person, or do I let my weird hometown insecurity prevail, and chicken out about going to a concert solo?  Put that way, my choice was clear.  I bought the ticket.

Friday night arrived.  I had dinner with a friend near the venue.  She thought my nervousness was ridiculous -- after all, I'm the same person who drove around the U.S. for six weeks alone, went to a dude ranch by myself, spent a week in Paris wandering solo (where I went to my first opera -- solo).  That's when I decided to pretend I was traveling.

Suddenly, I wasn't self-conscious.  Suddenly, I was daring.  I was a mystery.  No one around me knew who I was, where I came from, or what I was doing there.  I was magically freed from any concerns about what others were thinking about me -- if they knew me, they'd be awed and inspired, naturally.  Alone, I maneuvered easily through the crowded lobby and flirted my way to the front of the beer line.  Alone, I found my seat and kicked the young girl wearing too much makeup out of it, sending her to the back of the orchestra where she belonged.  Alone, I chatted with the usher, a very nice woman who was so excited to see Phoenix I thought she was going to faint.

There was a minor down point when the young boy next to me (seriously, this guy couldn't have been older than twenty -- I'd say twenty-one, but he and his friends weren't drinking) called me ma'am, but at least he was polite.

Then the lights went down, Phoenix took the stage, and I was transported by the music.  Again, being alone was perfect; there was no one I knew watching me make an uncoordinated fool of myself, so I was free to dance and jig to my heart's content, sing along and cheer and jump up and down.
At the end of the night, I walked out, smiling, and fully intending to be a solo traveler in my own hometown as often as possible.