Why I drive road trips in silence

We live in an era of information overload.

It’s becoming increasingly difficult to slow down, to live an unhurried lifestyle, and to just be silent. And with that silence, it’s oftentimes coupled with the beauty of being bored.

I honestly really miss the boredom of my childhood. The days where I couldn’t help but be bored. The moments where I had no other option but to be faced with boredom.

And, I’m remembering back to those moments. What did I do? I picked up a novel. I went outside for a walk. I even told my mom I was bored and she’d promptly list off a laundry list of things I could do around the house to chip in.

Naturally, if I weren’t doing the dishes for Mom, I would find things to engage in that kept me present otherwise.

But nowadays, rather than boredom leading to further presence, it’s led us all - myself included - into escaping further from the moment. And arguably further from the essence of what it means to be human. To be engaged, alive, aware, active, and I suppose most importantly, free.

Free to do as we choose, to not be enslaved to one way of existing, or one mode of communication, or one way of connecting with the world (aka, our phones…).

I long for the “good ol’ days.” Yes, I’m only 34 years young, but I have had some life to know that childhood, and even my young adult days without a smartphone, was amazing.

Being a child is such a carefree thing, and having grown up in the 90s and early 2000s, life then really was good.

I was bored. I was without a device in my hands that served any real purpose or function until I was 26 years old. Yes, 26. I refused to get a smartphone until my little LD slide phone was on its last leg. Why?

Why did I resist the wave of technological determinism for as long as I could?

Because I knew that being so engrossed in a device was going to keep me away from the present moment, disconnect me from my friends, and worst of all, disconnect me from myself.

And nowadays, boredom is not seen as an asset but a liability. We can so easily, at the touch of one swipe up on our phones and one click of a finger, open up any number of “apps” that allow us to escape boredom and escape the moment even, just to sit with our necks crouched forward, growing increasingly more tired and overstimulated at the same time.

I don’t mean to be too nostalgic or too critical of the present moment. But I am a bit discouraged right now writing this piece today. Which is why - hence the title of this blog post - I ride every road trip, and honestly every time I’m in the car, in total silence.

I need the silence when I drive. I need to not always feel the urgency of the noise or the overload of the information or the need to respond to everyone immediately. Driving is amazing because you are (legally and safety-wise) required to put your phone down, focus on what’s directly in front of you, and just breathe.

Being single and able to drive alone a lot, I’ve found that road trips are best spent in silence because it gives my mind the space to breathe, my body a chance to slow down and be present, and just be aware of my surroundings, which is all I can do in those moments. And that honestly feels pretty good. It’s a relinquishing of control, a beckoning to the present, and a chance to realize that wow, I’m here, I’m present, I’m alive, and I’m connecting to myself.

Along the lines of road trip silence, another area of life where I wish the noise would just stop is the noise brought on by my iPhone.

I wish I could turn off my phone.

I wish that culturally that was acceptable from time to time.

But I guess, I suppose, even if it means going against the grain of the day, turning off my phone and getting back to real presence, real silence, genuine boredom, and genuine connection to myself and others tops going with the grain any day.

And I suppose too, with that level of unhurried happiness and disconnection from the device and connection with myself, I can pick up a Sodoku book again like I did in 1999 and not have anything else to do or anywhere else to be, and actually be happy again.

And so, I drive in silence.