Tell Us About Your Greatest Road Trip

My greatest road trip is the Mille Miglia. Let’s be understood, I am not rich enough to own a car allowed to take part to the race. But I live in the town where the Mille Miglia starts and ends, Brescia, and most of the roads where the race is run are opened to the everyday traffic. Therefore from 2009 onwards I take my Alfa Duetto or my Lancia Fulvia Coupè and follow the race through Italy, to Rome and back, with some friends or alone. I’ ll do it again, next May and believe me, it’s quite special.

I got drunk one night and wound up buying a 1979 Fiat X1/9 on Ebay. It was in Tacoma Washington. I live in Iowa. OOPS!
The next week Suzie and I flew to Sea-Tac where the (former) owner picked us up and took us to the car, dropped us off and drove away. We loaded our gear in the car and headed out. Drove it back to Iowa. Over 1600 miles in a unknown car over 4 days. Brave or stupid? Yes. Both at once. But it wound up being brave. The car didn’t miss a beat. What a good time!!! Let’s do it again.

My most epic roadtrip was 4 years ago with my 11 year old son in my 11 year old Alfa Spider 916. After a visit at the Nordschleife the clutch broke down. As the Spider wasn’t registered properly, the roadside-assistance wouldn’t bother to help us. But our dealer 600km further away would. I managed to jumpstart the Alfa in second gear and without clutch wrestle it in fifth gear. Without aid of satnav or knowlegde of the German language, my son navigated us with an old map through the Eiffel mountains, traffic jams near Koln, naming road numbers and cities passing by. The engine of the Alfa proved to be very elastic, picking up speed from 30 km/h in traffic jams to over 200 km/h on the limitless Autobahn. After 4 strenious hours, we arrived at the dealer on the last vapours of petrol and with sunblisters on our foreheads,, due to the fact that we drove top-down with a relentless sun over our heads.
It was truly a trip we will always remember, learning to deal with the flaws of an elderly Alfa and bonding between father and son by resolving problems. My boy became a little man that day and the Alfa? It’s still in the family, 16 years old and silently becoming a classic of its own era

I was 18 and just graduated High School. My childhood friend and I decided to drive to Florida from Baltimore Maryland. I had purchased a new 1988 1/2 Ford Escort LX and proceded to go to Orlando, then due west to Tampa, south to Fort Myers. From Ft. Myers, we crossed through alligator alley to Miami. Finally, leaving Miami to go to the keys. All the while, fishing any chance we could. While the car wasn’t the greatest(in hindsight) it averaged close to 40mpg and the experience of two childhood friends sharing good times before life and responsibilities beckon. I have been fortunate enough to travel quite alot here and internationally, but that first real road trip will always be a standout. As an aside, “[b]Oddomatik[/b]” represents the best example of a classic road trip. No real destinations or time crunch, just the travel

Pacific West Coast, 2012
Well, ther car might not be the greatest ride (Nissan Altima 2.5), but it sure was roomy.

After we got married in my hometown, Alcobaça, a small city in the center of Portugal, me and my wife went to San Francisco to have the trip of our lifes (until 2015, we hope). We drove from San Francisco to Yosemite, then Sacramento, then up the coast trough the Redwoods to Eureka and Crescent City. After that we took the I5 to Portland (remembering the infamous I5 killer), then again to the coast. We were the first europeans at a small motel in a town called Forest Grove. Staying in the unfergetable 101, we passed Cannon Beach, Astoria, Aberdeen, Kalaloch and then de Olympic Foresr to get to Port Angeles. We took the ferry to Victoria, drove to Ucluelet/Tofino and then back to Qualicum Beach and Nanaimo, where another ferry took us to Vancouver. After that we drove straight to Seattle one night, because all the hotels and motels where booked by canadians for that weekend!! From Seattle we got to Snoqualmie Falls and Mount Rainier.
We returned from Seattle-Tacoma after 17 days and 3.000 miles, remembering every moment, and regreting having to return…

Next year we hope to do the same from Philadelphia to Washington, up to Buffalo and Toronto, then Vermont, Boston and New York

Back in my mid 20’s, my Great Aunt gave me her 1966 Ford Anglia Super. A 36,000 mile original car. My friend, Ward Borden, and I flew from Connecticut to Daytona Beach to pick up the car. We kicked back a few days at the beach, did a little maintenance on the car and prepared to head north.

However, on the beach was a bar, Kokomo’s. The beer was cold and the waitresses weren’t. We hit the road after last call. It was not long before I knew there was a problem. The car kept losing power to the point I was heading north on I-95 in the breakdown lane at about 40mph at full throttle. About seven hours later, 40 miles from Savannah GA, she quit.

We got towed in the wrong direction to Darien, GA and were left at a 1950’s road side motel with trees growing out of what was the swimming pool. Three days trying to diagnose this little car came to nothing. The local mechanic at one point asked me to hold the coil wire to see if she had spark. When I declined, his assistant mechanic, whose complexion was a striking shade of grey, stepped right up and verified it had all 30,000 volts.

We thought we might turn this delay into an adventure. Looking for a place to water down, the local waitress directed us to a bar not to far down the road, but warned us ” you might not want to go, because there are a lot of shoot’ins there”. So looking for a convenience store we decided to start walking, just as we passed “Billy Bob’s Used Cars and Baptist Church”, there was a little station with a stocked cooler.

So heading back to the Bate’s Motel, and a vintage Pontiac Catalina pulled up next to me as I walked down the road and stopped. The old man looked out the passenger window and said “Son, you’re not from around here are you.” I said, “Sir, I am passing through, my car broke down”. He informed me “they don’t like people walking around here like that”. I asked, “like what?” And he pointed to the 12 pack of beer in the brown paper bag. He instructed me to get it to the hotel and out of site.

Needless to say, we headed to the hotel and locked the doors. My mom was heading home from Daytona too, so I had her pickup a tow-dolly, stop by, and get us home ASAP.

I learned a few things by the time I got home. I learned there really is such a things as a “country mile”. If a southerner tells you that a diner is down the road, about a mile, leave yourself some time, especially when walking. If your car breaks, check everything, rotors do go bad after all. Lastly, you cannot flat tow on the New Jersey Turnpike, give yourself an extra day or get a car trailer.

I’ve done a few road trips in my Porsche 944 but the most memorable was a 4,500 mile honeymoon drive through Europe from North of London. We took in the French Alps, Swiss Alps, Stelvio pass, Italy (Venice), Austria, Slovenia and ended up in Budapest. We didn’t have a plan or route just decided where we wanted to go over breakfast. For the entire trip the car was faultless only wanting for 1/2ltr of oil in Austria (now I’ve jinxed my next trip) and was so enjoyable on the mountain passes.

One great memory was an early morning drive out of the Duchy of Liechtenstein, as we descended the alpine hairpins the morning mist lifted and we caught glimpses of the ‘onion domed’ churches whose bells were calling the farmers to work from across the valley. The cold, fresh air, the sound of the car and that superb alpine road is something I’ll never forget.

If anyone is thinking of doing a road trip DO IT NOW SIR! (just don’t take a Satnav, you find the best things when lost)

At 18 years of age, I found myself in the perfect life-situation for an adventure. I had $500, a moped, and few physical possessions. The bills were nill, so in January 2010 I rode 3500 miles from Asheville, NC to Northern California on a 50cc Puch Newport II. It took me 2 months (about 5 weeks of riding). Even though the max speed was about 25mph, the wind still chilled me to the bone with 5 layers on. I took a route as far southern as could be without dipping into Mexico. I rode through the swamps of Florida and enjoyed the sights and sounds of fanboats and solitude. Mobile Bay by ferry. Biloxi, Mississippi shortly after the hurricane. A hostel in New Orleans provided a welcomed shower and a night off the streets. I resealed the motor on the steps of the Super Dome after it started backfiring from an air leak. Texas was LONG and COLD. I waited out storms in abandoned farm houses and just West of Pecos found myself lost for 2 days.
No roads, no power lines, no houses or signs of life. Just cactus and dry stream beds. I eventually found a fence and followed it to a maintenance road, to a ranch road, to a paved road and ran out of gas 10 feet onto the pavement next to a sign reading “Van Horn 38 miles”. I walked, and eventually came across a nice rancher on horseback who brought me a gallon of gas.
El Paso to Phoenix, on through the most solitary and beautiful roads to 29 Palms. Over the grade to Long Beach, then up the Central Valley of California, criss-crossing the farm roads between 99 and 5 for a few days. Over Altamont Pass road between thousands of modern windmills to my final destination.
It was demanding both physically and mentally, but I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything.

Z4 M Coupe. Lubbok TX to Bend OR. 1900 MIles. Two days. Average speed 99.8MPH. Glorious.