“You realize Wellington is, like, 6 hours away, right?”

My roommate at the Rotorua hostel seemed skeptical about my upcoming plans. He had just spent the last five minutes explaining his ambitious scheme to defraud Chase Bank out of 3 million dollars (it involved real estate loopholes), but now he was looking at me like I was the crazy one.

The rest of my New Zealand itinerary was met with similar misgivings. It takes a lot of driving to cover two islands in two weeks, and some people think of six hours in the car as a wasted day. But such is the life of a solo road tripper. “Hero” might be too strong a word to describe those of us who prefer open roads to closed itineraries, but then again, it might not be.

I’ve always enjoyed traveling unfettered, A/C in my hair and the sun at my back, so here are a few tips I’ve picked up to help you survive your own solo drives.

Know Your Car, Love Your Car

Don Quixote had Rocinante. The Lone Ranger had Silver. Me? I had a rented Suzuki Swift. Pure white, which is a solid enough color for a rental. White paint reflects light, keeping the interior a little cooler in the summer. A black car, on the other hand, will bake you alive on an open highway.

Another benefit of a white paint job: The reflected light helps to hide faint scratches. I wouldn’t rely on it, though. If you’re sticking to your home country, your car insurance will almost certainly cover you, no matter what you’re driving. But international travelers should spring for the coverage offered by the rental company.

Seriously, get the liability coverage. It might feel like a scam, but nothing ruins a road trip like a five-digit repair bill. That $150 insurance fee doesn't seem so bad comparatively.

A flat tire can also be a major mood killer, so make sure you’ve got roadside assistance lined up. You can usually get that service as an add-on when you’re renting the vehicle, but a motor club membership (like AAA in the US) is almost always the best investment. They have partner organizations all over the globe, plus you can sometimes get a discount on the car rental if you show your member card.

When you pick up the car, you’ll be tempted to take off as soon as possible. You’re excited to be somewhere new, you’re feeling a bit cooped up after the plane ride, and the open road is calling your name. I also had a time limit after landing in New Zealand—I had to get from Auckland to Pōkeno before the famous ice cream shop closed for the evening.

But, wherever you’re rushing off to, you can still spare 5-10 minutes to check out your new rental. Take pictures (or, even better, a video) of the exterior from every angle so they can’t charge you for pre-existing scratches, fiddle with the mirrors, and adjust the seat until your legs can stretch comfortably to the pedals. That last one is especially important if, like me, you’re over 30 and have to treat your body with kindness. Spending 3+ hours crammed into a poorly adjusted driver’s seat will do awful things to your knees and ankles, trust me.

If you’re in your early 20s and still feel invincible, at least mess with the headrest before you drive away. You might have ligaments of twisted steel, but neck pain comes for us all.

Keep in mind that, as a solo road tripper, your car is your castle. Accommodations come and go along your route, but the vehicle is a constant. Think of it as your hotel room on wheels and set it up accordingly!

I had my backpack on the floor of the front passenger seat, upright and unzipped so I could reach into it without taking my eyes off the road. I kept one water bottle in the center console cupholder, one in the door cupholder, and one on the passenger seat with my car snacks (vital for mid-drive munchies). In the back seat, a plastic bag for trash, to be emptied surreptitiously at unlocked dumpsters. My suitcase lived in the trunk with my jacket and hiking boots, hidden away from prying eyes and schlepped into a new hostel room every night.

Overkill? Maybe. But that little white hatchback was my transportation, dining room, and base of operations all in one, and keeping it in order made the whole trip smoother. And when I spotted a small wooden sign reading “RAINFOREST TRAIL” by the side of the road, I knew exactly where to find my boots.

Be Your Own Best Friend

One fun thing to do on a road trip is call a friend and make them listen to your chattering over speakerphone. It’s a pretty great way to kill a bit of time and get some much-needed social interaction. But, unless you have some very patient friends and a robust cell network, you’ll mostly be spending time on your own.

In the car. With nothing to do.

On a long solo drive, solitude can be your worst enemy. Well, no, your worst enemy is an overzealous gas station attendant who won’t let you use the bathroom unless you buy something. But solitude is up there. Luckily, the 21st century has plenty of ways to cure boredom.

First things first: music. Being alone is one thing, but being alone in complete silence can be soul-crushing. That's why I keep music playing more or less 24/7 in the car. For my trip to New Zealand, I prepared playlists with old favorites (Beck, Ween, Kate Bush), recent discoveries (SOPHIE, Screeching Weasel), and some local Kiwi artists (Lorde, Flight of the Conchords, Nick Cave, who I eventually realized is from Australia and not NZ). 

Note that you should make a point of downloading your tunes. Cell service tends to drop off the further you get from civilization, and what’s the point of taking a road trip if you never find yourself in the middle of nowhere? 

If you’re feeling old school, you can even bring a USB drive loaded with MP3s to save your phone’s battery life. But you have to make sure you’re renting a car with the proper ports. You also have to be old enough to know what an MP3 file is.

Don’t underestimate the value of FM radio, either. I learned a lot about the culture of the North Island when my phone refused to connect to the car’s Bluetooth system. Mostly that it sounds pretty funny when someone says “Led Zeppelin” in a New Zealand accent.

Podcasts and audiobooks will also keep your mind occupied. I’m not much for podcasts myself, but I do keep Stephen King novels on my phone for long drives. They’re exciting, they don’t require much focus, and, most importantly, they’re long as hell. I spent two weeks in NZ and didn’t even get halfway through It.

Now, you will have to get some social interaction along the way, unless you’re okay with going a little crazy. Oversharing to retail and food service workers is one method, but I can’t ethically recommend it. What I can suggest is staying in hostels.

Sure, they’re a little cramped. But you’ll meet some real characters, and they’re great places to pick up recommendations for nearby stops. Most hostel patrons are travel maniacs just like you, and every traveler’s favorite question starts with “Know any cool spots near…?”

I’m a large, bearded man, so I can get away with a rule: If anyone in a hostel offers me a drink, I always say yes. That’s how I met my friend with the 3-million-dollar bank scheme; we spent an evening sipping Jameson and swapping travel stories. He spoke rapturously on the virtues of recreational ketamine, and I listened politely. When I checked out the next morning, he bequeathed me the half-finished bottle of whiskey as a token of appreciation.

Later, I would return the karmic favor by sharing the alcohol with some conspiracy enthusiasts from Christchurch. “Is it true that the LA fires were started by government satellites?” one asked. “I don’t know,” I diplomatically replied. “Maybe.”

I parted ways with the Christchurchers in the morning, just like the other single-serving pals. It was nice to be social in the evenings, but days were mine alone. That’s the thing about a solo road trip: the solitude is your worst enemy, but it’s also your best friend. It’s a chance to get comfortable in your own head, to see where your thoughts go when they’re not taken up by work, plans, money, friends, family, or anything else.

There’s a kind of mental freedom that only comes when you have nothing on your mind, just a tank of gas and a destination. Find it, and six hours can feel like the blink of an eye.

Keep It Loose

All travel plans exist on a spectrum between structure and flexibility. On the structure end, you’ve got your tour packages, business trips, and (usually) group vacations. Traveling with small children requires you to dive off the structure end of the spectrum and become a being of pure schedule. Bless their tiny, chaotic hearts.

A solo road trip, on the other hand, should live as far on the flexibility side as you can manage. You’ve heard the phrase “it’s the journey, not the destination,” right? In this case, the journey is the destination. It’s the whole reason you’re here. You’re going to spend 50% of your trip in the car, and you’re going to love it.

When I’m on the road, I try to follow Diesel’s Law, named after America’s sweetheart: Vin Diesel. “I live my life a quarter-mile at a time,” he mumbles early in The Fast and the Furious, and that’s the perfect mindset for this kind of travel. Don’t worry about where you need to be, don’t think about how much driving you have to do today. Just live in the moment, a quarter-mile at a time.

The same film also provides us with Diesel’s Second Law: “You can have any beer you want, as long as it’s a Corona.” But that’s less relevant to the subject at hand.

The best part of living la vida Diesel is being open to spontaneous stops. If you see an intriguing road sign, follow it! If you see a beautiful view, pull over! If you’re hungry, eat at the next restaurant you find. Otherwise, you’ll spend the next 10 miles second-guessing yourself for hesitating.

Some of my favorite travel memories come from those impulse stops. Once, when driving through Alabama, I followed signs for something called the “Cross Garden,” which turned out to be a backyard full of rusted-out appliances, each one handpainted with bonkers religious warnings. It was a highlight of the trip.

Of course, unless you’re deeply committed to wandering the whole time, you’ll have to make some plans. When I’m thinking about a road trip, I begin by setting an overall path, from start to finish. For New Zealand, my route was a huge loop starting in Auckland and heading all the way down to the southern tip of the South Island, then returning north to Auckland. The whole country, essentially.

From there, I picked out a few choice areas along the way, mostly national parks. Each of those places (Rotorua, Aoraki/Mt. Cook, Fiordlands, and Tongariro) was assigned a full day for exploration. Add in a few spots that required advance tickets (Hobbiton, Waitomo caves, the ferry between the North and South Islands) and I had the basic skeleton of an itinerary, strung together by a bunch of travel days.

Those travel days are the beating heart of any good road trip. Some of them had set end-of-day destinations, but sometimes I wouldn’t find a stopping point and book the hostel until the night before. I spent my evenings researching the next day’s route, browsing online and asking around for fun places along the way. The following morning, I’d take off with nothing but a final destination and a handful of possible stops in my head.

That drive from Rotorua to Wellington, the one that surprised my hostel roommate? It ended up taking longer than six hours. But that was also the day I tried Zorbing for the first time. I stopped for lunch in a small town with buildings shaped like animal heads. I listened to a Māori-language radio station. I pulled over and had dinner while watching the sun go down over the hills.

It was a pretty great day, because it was a free day. And that’s kinda what a road trip is about. It’s a blank page. A vacant lot. An open road.

So follow as much (or as little) of this advice as you want. At the end of the day, you’ll be the one writing your own story out there. Just take it a quarter-mile at a time.