I think I might be addicted. Like having a serious problem. Gone-to-Vegas-and-decided-to-become-a-professional-Keno-player problem. Or decided to join a cult. Or stayed up for three days straight trying to beat a video game. (And I don’t even play videogames!)
But all of those would be easy. Instead, I’m hooked on travel gadgets and accessories, and I don’t know how to beat the habit.
It’s been spawned by a new car and an upcoming trip that will see us head off to North Carolina and Virginia, where we’ll zip along winding mountain roads in search of dallying mountain streams. And waterfalls!
It’s a road trip. A rambler. A spend-lots-of time-in-the-car vacation that I dream about. Highways open up in front of you, stretching out for miles in every direction. Just inviting you to come and drive until your butt goes numb and you can’t feel the gas-pedal anymore.
I’m not sure why that’s fun, but I love it.
And I love road trip gadgets and sundry gear. I’ve been buying them in bulk as I try to feed my fix. I’m running out of items, though. The low-hanging fruit is gone. The thin organizer that will hold charger cords and other items. The iPhone mount that connects to the AC vent. The fitted seat cover for the dog. The hanging garbage holder that no one will ever use. The bungee cord net with carabiners for the cargo carrier. (I’m a sucker for carabiner.) The fitted windshield shade that not only reduces the temperature inside your car, but also roasts a chicken while you’re parked.
I got them all for our trip. But I want more. I NEED more!
I do searches online: “coolest road trip accessories that will make others jealous, but serve no actual purpose.” The same stuff I already have comes up every time.
Where are the really jaw-dropping things? The new inventions? The life-changing devices?
Like a little robot that hangs in your cargo space and records how you packed your vehicle so it can guide you through it the next time? Because that’s the worst part of a road trip. You figure out the puzzle – how to jam 5 suitcases, 2 coolers, 3 storage bins, a bag of dog food the size of Wisconsin and enough sheets, towels and pillows to open a hotel – into a space about the size of a Post Office box. And thanks to your engineering, and defying of physics, it fits! But in your haste to unload at your first destination, you fail to take note of how it all went in.
When you go to reload it, you have no idea how to get it back in there. It’s like your luggage all expanded, and literally whatever combination you try, there’s no making it work. On one trip, I literally went out that morning and traded in my car for a bigger vehicle just to get our stuff home.
But this little robot would walk you through the process – “Remember? First you beat the suitcase with a sledgehammer then fold it lengthwise around the waffle maker” – and dispense advice – “They say storing a propane tank in the back of your vehicle is unsafe, but if something happens, at least you won’t have to worry about unloading the car.”
What about some kind of device that helps you feel around on the floor for the snack that you dropped. I’m a bit OCD. So, if I drop a morsel of something while I’m driving, I just can’t leave it. I have to search around until I find it, semi-carefully navigating the roads while I run my fingers along the dirty car matts that haven’t been cleaned since Genghis Khan was last in office. Worse, I’ll jam my wrist down between the seats and get it lodged so tight that my wife has to take over the wheel while I work on extracting it.
Wouldn’t it be great to have a miniature camera with a claw that could help you search out the errant cashew like you’re piloting an underwater research robot? Maybe with an optional grease attachment to spray on your arm to get it unstuck?
Or some kind of “head-up display” like fighter pilots have in the cockpit to alert them to enemy jets? Only mine would project information on the windshield for the least sketchy bathrooms, the most drinkable coffee or the likelihood that the load of un-bungeed lumber in the wobbling pickup truck ahead of me will come loose as I approach it.
How about a device that explains how to use my fancy radar-assisted cruise control? Or an espresso machine with milk frother that can fit in a cupholder? Or a sensor that detects when the dog is gonna’ be sick so I actually have time to pull over and yell, “Throw up in the woods like normal mongrels!”
I guess I’ll just keep hunting for them. I know they’re out there, and I’ve got to have them. It’s an addiction now, and I won’t stop until the cab of my car is so loaded up that I’ll need a sledgehammer to get anything else in.