Photo credit: Meadbh Brown

An open atlas, a matcha latte and a digital camera sit on the dashboard of a car. Road trips offer us a moment to slow down and reflect, free from the distractions and convenience of modern technology.

I never thought I could learn so much from a car. This summer, my brother and I took a road trip down the Pacific Northwest after picking up said car from Seattle. After driving 1,136 miles, tired, sunburnt and on the verge of a breakdown (both mental and mechanical), we returned home with a new perspective. 

Part of that change came from the car itself: an aging stick shift we didn’t really know how to drive, a sputtering engine we prayed would make it home and the sound system that would overheat after about 15 minutes, leaving us in silence. The most memorable of all was when our A/C gave out on day two, leaving us high and dry as we drove through the 105 degree, late July heat of California’s Central Valley. To call it miserable would be fair, but to call it unforgettable would be the truth.

What stuck with me most was the way I was forced to go analog. With no GPS, I learned to read an atlas. With no Bluetooth, I dug through bins for CDs. With an overheating phone, I captured the moments and beautiful views on a digital camera. 

To many, this probably sounds like a nightmare. It sort of was, but with some distance, I’m able to look back on this trip with appreciation. It wasn’t easy, it wasn’t comfortable and it probably wasn’t even safe. But in the absence of my perfect playlists, navigation and Instagram stories, everything slowed down.

For most of us, everyday life is pretty comfortable. We wake up from a cozy bed, mobile order ourselves a drink from Starbucks and get started on our day. As lovely as this is, do you ever think that some things might be getting too easy? Personally, I check the weather app as I’m getting dressed, despite being 30 feet from my back door. I order food instead of cooking, or even going to get it myself. Our schoolwork – essays, problem sets, projects — can even be completed in seconds via AI, stripping away the effort which fosters real growth and learning. Technology makes life effortless, but is something lost when we cut out any level of work? 

For all of history, humans have shown each other their love and care via effort. Homebaked cakes, handwritten cards or an errand for a friend are all ways of showing our dedication to each other through work. What happens to our own lives when we stop putting in effort is the same as what happens to a relationship: it decays. In order for us to believe, deeply and truly, that we are cared for and valued, we need to value ourselves enough to give our own lives effort.

On this trip, I noticed how much more vividly I remembered things. With my atlas, I was grounded in my space, aware of where I came from and where I was going. It gave me a sense of orientation a GPS didn’t require of me. I can still remember the CDs I picked, and for which stretches of road I was forced to sit in silence. Spotify could have provided me with endless music, but now I remember exactly how it felt to hold that music in my hands. 

The point of this story is that what I suspected all along turned out to be true: Convenience can strip away texture from our lives.

I’d like to encourage you to experience just one thing in your day a little more deeply. Not to make your life more difficult, but to enrich your day-to-day. Maybe it’s fully committing to watching a TV show or movie instead of scrolling simultaneously, or facetiming and meeting up with your friend instead of just texting them. Whatever it is, see how it feels to slow down a bit, concentrate your focus on one thing at a time, and live life a little more in the present moment.