Keep your friends close, but not too close for comfort

I think there would be an interesting sociological/psychological thesis that could be based on the road trip. And if I was going to do it, my initial thesis would be, Never put four passengers in a 4-passenger car. I could write up this weekend’s Hill Country foray as a case study.

For it to be a true road trip, you need a driver and a navigator. The third person adds a desirable level of rotation, and a flexible dynamic between having to concentrate on the road, providing discussion topics, or sitting the back seat with your iPod playing and staring out the window. And of course, they become the tie breaker in the tacos or barbecue for dinner decision. Person number four, however, just throws a big fat monkey wrench into the works. Cross-chatter starts. Somebody thinks somebody else was supposed to grab the map. Stomachs do not synchronize. Somebody’s hot, somebody’s cold, somebody’s just right, and somebody is sitting in the corner writing a journal entry that says “Day 2: Have begun to try to chew through my seatbelt . . .”

Not that I don’t love all my friends. And I’d go on a road trip with any two of them any time, any place. We did manage to even out the bumps, and have a good time. But four people in a Toyota, unless they are all practicing Buddhist monks or mildly tranquilized, is just crabby patties waiting to happen.