How to Take a Solo Road Trip When You are 80

This is not my usual kind of posting. Many friends , though, were surprised (horrified?) that at 80 years of age I drove nearly 2000 miles from Lexington, Kentucky to New Orleans, Louisiana and back. So here’s an account.

I am fortunate to be in good health. I do regular self-checks to see whether I am driving well. I have a reliable car. Was I in any more danger than I would have been years ago? I didn’t see why. Reasonable precautions are reasonable precautions at any age. So for me there was no reason not to.

So here’s how I planned and carried out the trip. Where I made accommodations to my age, I’ve mentioned them.

Why I decided to take the trip

I had to go to an academic conference in New Orleans. It was not a conference I was particularly keen to go to. I just couldn’t face more crowded airports and dreary drives to and from city centers. Nor did I want to find myself dropped into a place with no understanding of its setting.

Every instinct said drive. I’m so very glad I followed those instincts and made a road trip of it. Of course you can take road trips where the journey, not the destination, is the aim, anywhere. Yet the sheer size and excellent road system of the United States makes this a particularly American experience.  As the Wikipedia article says, road trips are celebrated in movies, songs, and novels.

Planning

I acquired a nice pile of state and city maps from the  AAA and State tourist agencies. I also looked at United States Geological Survey online maps. These often make sense of major changes in the  landscape and hence in the kinds of economic activities. 

I also like to look up small towns and traditional routes on Google Scholar. Even the titles of the articles that pop up offer interesting insights into the environment and culture.

I knew that about 200 miles or 3-4 hours actual driving a day was what I could comfortably manage.  I did not intend to take interstates. In part, this was because on them all you see are grass verges and trees and the occasional rest stop. Besides sharing the road with 18-wheelers scares me witless. Is this age-related or just common sense?

I plotted a route, four to five days down to New Orleans through Kentucky, Tennessee, Mississippi, and Louisiana. Then it was another four to five days back along a more westerly route through those states.

Packing

No more than three bags to take in each night to motels or hotels  was my rule. Age related? Because I am not supposed to lift more than 20 lbs. with my right arm.  But really, who wants to schlep lots of stuff in and out of the car every day.

This meant a roll aboard  with a change of clothes, toiletries, and my portable kitchen and nonperishable pantry (see eating). On that I perched my backpack with my computer and paperwork. And over my shoulder went an insulated bag with perishables.

Other stuff I left in the car. I was fairly confident that no one would be tempted by worn tee-shirts, stacks of nonfiction books, and jackets.   

Daily routine

From 6:30 to 10 in the morning I did the housekeeping that always has to be done on a trip. I cleared my email. I reduced the squalor in the car to a level I could tolerate. I decided on the long stops for that day’s drive (always allowing for serendipity). I booked the next night’s motel.

From 10-ish until late afternoon I drove. Night fell by 5 o’clock on the eastern end of the Central Time Zone. I made sure to be in my motel by then. Age again?  Or common sense again?  

I settled in, let my daughter know I’d arrived safely. Then I had a drink, and usually a picnic. I was pretty much whacked. I retired to bed with a book.

Driving

Sheer pleasure on America’s  magnificent roads. I sailed along at 60 mph on nearly empty roads. I saw vanishingly few trucks. The only congestion I encountered was around the periphery of Nashville, the only big city I went through.  Avoiding interstates would not work everywhere. The (the East Coast and eastern Kentucky come to mind. On my route it worked wonderfully.

 I love watching changes in the topography, vegetation, farming and small towns as I drive. I also like the quasi-dreamlike state that long drives induce. My mind kaleidoscopes events, emotions, and ideas into new patterns and helps me move forward. So no podcasts or music for me.

Google maps (or Wayze) were really useful. Until they weren’t.  Twice at dusk Google maps sent me on a wild goose chase instead of to the motel I had booked.  

For this reason, and because I like a mental picture of the area, I always had my trusty paper maps open on the passenger seat.

Stopping along the way

When traveling I like to have a theme to explore rather that going from one ‘attraction’ to another. The trip’s theme was story of the Mississippi from Memphis to New Orleans. Absorbingly interesting but that’s for another post.

I counted on a couple of long stops a day. This allowed enough time to poke around in small town museums (always both fascinating and moving), state parks, historic spots, or archaeological sites.  I tried to find at least one where I could walk. And then there were the necessary stops every hour and a half.

Sleeping

I opted for predictable motel chains over B&Bs or Air B&Bs. Too many of these more interesting hostelries were valiant attempts in decaying downtowns or off the beaten track.  Age related.

 In mid-November, I had no problem booking motels just twenty four hours or less in advance. In fact most were nearly empty. I tried not to spend more than $100 though sometimes it crept up to $130. 

I avoided motels at spaghetti junctions which condemn you to eating from the codependent fast food chains. Furthermore you can’t walk to anything from them. 

No one chain was consistently better located or better kept than any other, that I could see. I happened that I stayed at Comfort Inn more often than any other but on another trip it might be different. The ratings for motels were helpful if taken with a pinch of salt.

I did check the website for refrigerator (pretty universal), microwave (commoner lower down the economic scale), and free breakfast (though I never actually ate one of these).  And I did check the map for nice locations. The view from the Comfort Inn that fronted on the Mississippi River Walk opposite Natchez could not have been beaten at any price.

Having modified my own house for the elderly, I found motel bathrooms scary. Definitely age related.

Most motels are older now, built in the last century before universal design—the practice of designing buildings to be usable by all ages and abilities–made headway. No grab bars, slippery tub or shower floors, slippery bathroom floors were the norm almost everywhere I stayed. Quite a few motels advertised accessible rooms but even then the design has a way to go.

Moreover, almost every room had one or more problems. Gently sinking desk chairs were common, blinds that were broken were too.  I don’t think this was the management’s fault. These flaws were not visible to a cleaner or on a quick inspection. So I decided to be a good citizen and leave a note about what did not function—the shower that leaked over the floor, the window shade that would not raise.

Eating

I had intended to check out, where possible, the still-existing restaurants mentioned in John Egerton’s great 1987 book Southern Food: At Home, on the Road, in History. 

This turned out to be utopian. It took me too far off my route. I did not have time to sit down and eat, nor the inclination to do so alone.  Besides I am sure the Southern Foodways Alliance has that covered.

I ended up picnicking, often for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

My portable kitchen equipment consisted of a collapsible silicon kettle; an ancient Rei portable plastic French press that makes two cups of coffee; an old airline bag containing knives, forks, spoons, can and bottle opener; a glass; a china cup; and a glass Bodum coffee cup (flimsy plastic and styrofoam reigns in US hotels and is horrid to drink out of). Plus plastic throwaway bowls and plates (less objectionable than plastic glasses somehow, probably because your lips don’t touch them), along with a roll of paper towels, a roll of foil, and small and large sealable plastic bags

My portable pantry consisted of ground coffee; strong tea bags; homemade muesli; shortbread cookies; left over Halloween candy; peanuts; crackers; and olives, all in plastic bags. Plus a bottle of Scotch, small oranges and cherry tomatoes.

The basic perishables were a pint each of whole milk and heavy cream (the latter to liven up the muesli); a block of aged cheddar; a pack of prosciutto; and a packet of flat breads.

These had me set unless I found something interesting. I also accumulated a fairly comprehensive collection of packets of friend pig skin.

Returning

It’s taken a lifetime, but I have finally realized that it takes a few days to wrap up a trip. Thank you letters need to be written, photos pruned to a reasonable number, bags unpacked and sorted. More important for me now though is taking a mental inventory: what did I learn? what was rewarding? So stay tuned for a blog on the Lower Mississippi Valley.

And meantime if you are lucky enough to be a healthy eighty-year old, consider a road trip. Just watch out for those bathrooms.

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