Road Trips
Is it the end for road trips?
It would be easy to make the argument that the age of road trips was initiated by Jack Kerouac’s novel/memoir On the road.
On the Road was published in 1957, but its story takes place across America in the post-war and jazz years of 1947 to 1950.
That was then
To put it mildly, America was a very different place back then.
For one thing, “road” meant actual road – not highway or freeway.
There were no fast-food chains in 1950.
No cell phones. No GPS. No seatbelts in cars.
Disneyland did not exist.
If you were on the road and got in trouble – anything from a flat tire to an illness or argument – you were on your own. Or your survival depended upon the kindness of strangers.
Vast stretches of Kerouac’s novel are set in these survival zones – from broken down cars to fist fights to sleeping on the side of the road to finding refuge in skid row neighborhoods – the actions and improvisations of these guys with essentially no money, no back-up plan – and barely a plan to begin with, are the story.
There were no hotels and few restaurants that fit their budget. Once in a great while they would find a place at a cheap motel, but mostly they would do what we would now call “couch-surfing”.
When cars were not available – or had too many obligations tied to them – hitch-hiking and buses got them across the country.
The romantic entanglements might be a connecting thread to modern stories. But probably not.
Couch-surfing and road trip were not in the American vocabulary at the time. And would not be for several decades.
Kerouac’s characters (and real-life companions) were what we might call feral Americans; young, unattached people, drifting like bumper cars across an unsuspecting, largely open territory just waiting to be explored, discovered – but for them at least – not claimed or conquered.
They picked up odd jobs – often for a day or two. Hustled and scammed for meals. Hung out in what would later be called dive-bars and lived, meal by meal, day by day and found companionship and freedom in ways (and places) few of us could dream of in our semi-digital world.
They made their way through a paved, urban wilderness that promised home – but rarely delivered on that promise.
This was their version of the American Dream. Space and time, at least the American terrestrial expression of it, were their freeform living canvas of direct experience. It was, as it had to be, a barren, hot, dirty, cold, hostile and unforgiving environment.
But it was, for those who were inclined – and could survive it – near absolute freedom.
But freedom, they found in their own way, was not even remotely “free”.
But it was real. It was, in their eyes, the “real” America. The America one saw, even then, from the outside – from the point of view of those not fully (or even partially) welcomed.
Those of color, those of any politically approved non-binary gender identification, or of any non-standard political or religious view, in 1950s America, knew their place – on the margins, doing the dirty work and staying as anonymous and invisible as possible.
In that sense, not much has changed. But every other aspect of life in America would be unrecognizable to any travelers from that era. Especially young people looking for the “real” America.
The surface of America is covered with franchises, look-alike cities, towns and strip malls.
Conveniences, comforts and distractions have filled every corner of what was once the wide-open spaces. Everything is planned, sanitized and, of course, already claimed.
The America we know, and see, is the America of continual sheen and entertainment. A place with a price tag on everything.
A road trip in a car – reliable, owned and packed with provisions – on a freeway – with occupants equipped with devices that monitor every step, every mile and, even every word is nothing Kerouac would have envisioned. Or found tolerable.
In today’s road trip, every mile is marked out – and thanks to tech devices that we are (almost) required to carry – we, ourselves, are also monitored.
There is no “freedom” in today’s road trip. In the road trip of today, there is little, if any, discovery or encounter - with meaning, with others, with one’s self, to be had.
As entertaining as theme parks might be, what of the world do you learn there? What of yourself do you encounter there?
Kerouac’s characters (and real-life friends) knew searing loneliness, abandonment, fatigue, hunger and desperation.
Poorer countries might have those challenges built into their economies. For now, at least, in America, one must seek them.
The hunger current travelers meet is easily eased by greasy, fast and relatively cheap, ever-present almost edible, almost filling, almost food.
Is the America of the gleaming lights and greasy food the “real” America? Some say it is.
Kerouac’s characters were looking for something beyond the obvious, beyond the marketing, beyond the noise.
The hype, and maybe even the promise, is not America.
America is, perhaps like all of us; what it is, not what it says it is.
Kerouac’s characters depended on strangers. On unbidden kindness, generosity – even rescue.
But that too is alien to 21st Century America.
We don’t like, trust, or when we can, even allow strangers into our lives.
And most of us in the 21st Century feel the same way about music. And food. And beliefs. For whatever reason, we have lost our confidence, our trust in each other; anything new or different is suspect.
That’s what Kerouac’s friends (and characters) were escaping from; the planned, the familiar, the convenient and comfortable.
We Americans often tell ourselves that we don’t need anyone else. We don’t need help.
But we do. We didn’t come into this world alone, we won’t live, work and feed ourselves alone, and much as we might try, we probably won’t leave this world alone.
But they knew – at a visceral level – that “stranger” was a relative term; what was once a stranger could easily – and quickly – become a companion, friend, co-conspirator or lover.
There have been many songs, stories and movies about looking for America. America is elusive. America is perhaps like meaning and purpose itself; tucked away in some hidden corner, only found by an earnest searcher.
Ersatz Americas – and Americans – can be found everywhere. With their slogans, hats and banners, they are a noisy slice of America – sort of like a hot pepper that gets caught between your teeth.
The real America will be found where a stranger helps someone with a flat tire – and refuses any payment.
The real America will be seen when a worker is appreciated for their work – and is glad to be of service.
The real America will be memorable when political leaders remember – and live – as if their first – and only – priority – were their constituents.
The real America will be known when business people are more protective of their integrity than their market share.
America is more of a longing than a promise, a calling more than a set of borders.
A few years ago, a presidential candidate insisted that America is made up of “makers and takers”.
He was half right. America, like every society, is made of “givers and takers”. The takers, as we see currently, will gladly take it all. The givers look for the best, believe in the best and work for the best.
That is where you will find America.
When America has nothing to promise, it has nothing to offer.
And if we find that America, we and the world have found much more than a landscape.
As Kerouac put it many years later, “Dean and I were embarked on a journey through post-Whitman America to FIND that America and to FIND the inherent goodness in American man. It was really a story about two Catholic buddies, roaming the country, in search of God. And we found him.”
The first, and perhaps final, principle of a memorable road trip is the first and last principle of life itself; life, on or off “the road”, is a fragile, flickering, glorious, miracle, rife with unforeseeable hazards, possibilities and discoveries, and no miracle, encounter or roadside attraction lasts forever.