Road trip

A week or two, a car with a good stereo, a rough route and no fixed plan. Mountains, coastline, small towns, long straight roads at dusk. Every day a new view out of the windscreen.

Mornings are a map on the passenger seat and coffee from a petrol station that is surprisingly good. You stop wherever looks interesting: a viewpoint, a lake, a market, a castle you did not know was there. Lunch is a picnic on a bonnet. Afternoons are driving, singing and talking. You arrive somewhere at sunset, find a bed and a meal, and look at the map for tomorrow. You love getting slightly lost, because that is where the best places are.

You plan loosely. A start, a finish and a list of things you might like to see in between. You book the first night and maybe the last. The middle stays open.

You pack a bag you can carry all day and a car you can live in. Snacks, water, a cool bag, a blanket, a playlist for every mood, phone chargers and a paper map because you do not trust signal in the hills. Layers for every weather, a swimsuit just in case, walking shoes. You keep the boot organised for the first day, and by day three it is a glorious mess. You have a ticket stub and a receipt for every stop, and they all end up in the glovebox.

A car full. You love a road trip with friends who will take turns choosing the music and laugh at the same terrible jokes. Someone who reads the map, someone who finds the food, someone who wants to stop at every viewpoint.

You also love a road trip as a pair, with one person who is happy to drive in silence for an hour and then talk for three. The person who will not work is the one who needs to know where you are sleeping tonight, or who gets car-sick and grumpy. You want people who are flexible, curious and patient, and who see a detour as a gift, not a disaster.

A week in the same hotel room. Same pool, same breakfast, same view every morning. You would be checking the car hire prices by day two.

You would also struggle with a fixed tour where someone else decides every stop and you sit on a coach watching places go past without getting out. A long flight to sit on a beach for ten days feels like a waste of a perfectly good engine. You need movement, change and a little uncertainty to feel like you are really travelling. Staying still for too long makes you restless, and you will start planning a day trip to anywhere.

Pick a route with a theme: the coast, the mountains, a string of old towns, a food trail. It gives the trip a story and stops you just driving.

Build in at least one two-night stop so you can unpack, rest and see a place properly. Drive the scenic road, not the fast one, at least once a day. Leave the evening drives for the first and last day only, so you arrive in daylight. Make a shared playlist before you go, and let everyone add three songs. Then keep a log: where you stopped, what you ate, the best view. A road trip is the best kind of story, and you are its narrator.