topsverseLast summer, I pulled into a gas station somewhere in rural Virginia, exhausted from eight hours behind the wheel. An older gentleman pumping gas at the next pump leaned over and said, “You look like you’re chasing something.” I laughed and told him I was driving the Blue Ridge Parkway. He nodded knowingly. “Well, you’ll find it up there. Whatever it is.”
That random encounter stuck with me because he was right. There’s something about American road trips that goes beyond getting from point A to point B. Maybe it’s the hypnotic rhythm of the centerline, or those unexpected moments when you round a bend and the landscape punches you in the chest. Whatever it is, millions of us are rediscovering it right now.
1. Pacific Coast Highway
The Route: San Francisco to Los Angeles via Highway 1, roughly 650 miles
I’ve driven the PCH four times now, and I still catch myself holding my breath through Big Sur. That 71-mile stretch where the Santa Lucia Mountains crash into the Pacific? It never gets old. But here’s what nobody tells you: the road closes. A lot.
Before my first trip, I just assumed I’d breeze down the coast. Instead, I hit a massive landslide closure near Ragged Point and had to detour inland for hours. Caltrans maintains a real-time highway conditions map—check it obsessively before you go, then check it again the morning you leave. The geology that makes Big Sur stunning also makes it unstable.
My favorite stop? Bixby Bridge at sunrise, before the tour buses arrive. And if you’re driving electric, Cambria has charging stations right by the pier where you can grab fish tacos while your car charges. I learned that the hard way after limping into town with twelve miles of range left.
Best time: April through October, but expect June fog along the coast.
2. Blue Ridge Parkway
The Route: Shenandoah National Park (Virginia) to Great Smoky Mountains (North Carolina), 469 miles
The speed limit on the Blue Ridge Parkway is 45 mph. Sometimes less. At first, this drove me crazy—I kept checking my rearview mirror for impatient drivers. Then somewhere around Mabry Mill (that impossibly photogenic grist mill everyone photographs), I realized the speed limit is the whole point.
According to the National Park Service, the Parkway was specifically designed as a “leisurely” scenic drive during the Depression era, meant to showcase Appalachian beauty while providing jobs. It worked. The road manages to hit nearly every ecosystem between Georgia and Maine, all condensed into one drive.
Go in mid-October if you can. The Virginia’s Blue Ridge tourism bureau says peak foliage usually hits between October 15-25 at lower elevations, and I can confirm—I timed a trip perfectly in 2023, and the mountains looked like they were on fire. Just watch for cyclists. They own that road on weekends, and rightfully so.
Reality check: Cell service is a joke up there. Download offline maps or bring an actual paper map. Yes, really.
3. Overseas Highway
The Route: Key Largo to Key West, Florida, 113 miles on US-1
Driving to Key West feels vaguely illegal, like you’re getting away with something. You’re literally driving across the ocean on 42 bridges, the longest spanning seven miles of open water. When I first did it, I kept thinking about Henry Flagler, the railroad tycoon who built the original “Over-Sea Railroad” in the early 1900s.
The Florida Keys History museum in Islamorada explains how the 1935 Labor Day hurricane destroyed Flagler’s railroad, killing over 400 people. Three years later, they built the highway on top of the railway ruins. You can still see the old bridges running parallel to the modern road—they’re now fishing piers and bike paths, listed on the National Register of Historic Places.
Pro tip: Stop at Robbie’s Marina in Islamorada and buy a bucket of fish scraps to feed the massive tarpon that gather there. It’s touristy and weird and completely worth it. Also, go between November and April. I went in August once. Never again. The humidity makes you feel like you’re breathing through a wet towel.
4. Route 66
The Route: Chicago to Santa Monica, 2,448 miles (fragments remain)
Route 66 doesn’t really exist anymore. The interstate system killed it in 1985, and most of the original road is either gone or buried under I-40. But the fragments that survive feel like archaeological sites of mid-century America.
I spent ten days driving the remaining stretches last fall, and the highlight was pulling into the MidPoint Cafe in Adrian, Texas—literally the halfway point between Chicago and Los Angeles. The owner, a woman named Fran Houser, makes “ugly crust” pies that are anything but ugly. While I ate coconut cream pie at the counter, she told me about growing up on Route 66, watching it die slowly as the interstates bypassed her town.
That’s the thing about Route 66—it’s a museum of American decline as much as nostalgia. Towns like Glenrio (straddling the Texas-New Mexico border) are complete ghost towns now, just abandoned motels and gas stations slowly collapsing. But then you hit Amarillo and see Cadillac Ranch, where someone buried ten Cadillacs nose-down in a field and everyone’s invited to spray-paint them. It’s wonderfully absurd.
Must-see: The U-Drop Inn in Shamrock, Texas. That Art Deco building was the inspiration for the gas station in Pixar’s Cars. Now it’s a museum and somehow looks better in person than in the movie.
5. Trail Ridge Road
The Route: Through Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado, 48 miles
Trail Ridge Road tops out at 12,183 feet—the highest continuous paved road in America. I learned what “alpine tundra” means the hard way when I stepped out of my car at the summit in July wearing shorts and immediately understood why everyone else had jackets.
The National Park Service research explains that the plants up there are dwarfed perennials that hug the ground to survive 100+ mph winds. They grow maybe an inch per decade. That perspective shift hit me hard—don’t step off the paved areas. You could destroy decades of growth with one careless boot.
Fair warning: you need a timed entry permit during summer now. Rocky Mountain National Park implemented this after pandemic-era crowding damaged trails and created parking nightmares. Book your permit the moment the reservation window opens (usually 90 days in advance) or you won’t get in. The road typically opens around Memorial Day and closes by mid-October when snow returns.
Altitude tip: I got a pounding headache at the summit and felt dizzy. That’s altitude sickness starting. Drink water constantly, and if it gets worse, descend immediately. Your body cannot “tough out” high elevation.
6. Beartooth Highway
The Route: Red Lodge, Montana to Cooke City (Yellowstone’s Northeast Entrance), 68 miles
Charles Kuralt once called the Beartooth Highway “the most beautiful drive in America,” and while I’m not sure I’d go that far (Big Sur exists), I understand the impulse. This 68-mile stretch climbs to 10,947 feet through relentless switchbacks, offering views of Pilot Peak and Index Peak that make you understand why people moved West.
Budget four to six hours minimum, not the two hours Google Maps suggests. You’ll want to stop. Constantly. I pulled over eleven times just to stare or take photos, and I still feel like I missed things.
The Shoshone National Forest website warns that weather can turn violent without notice up there. I hit a snowstorm in mid-July—not flurries, an actual whiteout that reduced visibility to maybe twenty feet. We crept along at 15 mph until it passed thirty minutes later, then the sun came out and it was seventy degrees again. Mountain weather is unhinged. The road typically opens late May and closes by mid-October.
7. Going-to-the-Sun Road
The Route: West Glacier to St. Mary, Montana (through Glacier National Park), 50 miles
Going-to-the-Sun Road took eleven years to build, from 1921 to 1932, and when you see the Weeping Wall—where snowmelt literally pours across the road—you understand why. The National Park Service history describes it as one of the most difficult roads ever engineered in American parks.
The road crosses the Continental Divide at Logan Pass (6,646 feet), and the views of heaven’s Peak and the McDonald Valley below are almost stupidly beautiful. But here’s the catch: massive snowfall means the road often doesn’t open until late June or early July, and it closes again in October. Check the park’s road status before you book anything.
I drove it in early September, and traffic was still heavy. The road is narrow—vehicles over 21 feet long (including bumpers) aren’t allowed past Avalanche Creek. If you’re in an RV, you’re better off parking at the visitor center and taking the park shuttle.
8. Road to Hana
The Route: Kahului to Hana, Maui, 64 miles
The Road to Hana has 59 bridges and somewhere north of 600 curves. It took me eleven hours to drive it, including stops. My wife kept saying, “This is beautiful but I’m carsick and I hate you.” Fair.
But here’s why it’s worth it: Maui’s northeast coast is essentially a living geology lesson in volcanic erosion. According to University of Hawaii research, those waterfalls you see—like the famous Upper Waiakea Falls—cascade over ancient basalt layers carved by millions of years of rainfall. The rainforest is so dense it blocks out the sky in places.
Start early (before 8:00 a.m.) or you’ll get stuck behind tour vans going 10 mph. And for the love of all that’s holy, pull over at the marked turnouts when locals come up behind you. They live here; they need to get to work. Respect that.
Essential stop: Twin Falls early in the drive. Easy short hike, gorgeous swimming holes, and banana bread stands nearby that make you reconsider your life choices.
9. San Juan Skyway
The Route: Durango loop through southwestern Colorado, 236 miles
The San Juan Skyway connects Durango, Silverton, Ouray, and Telluride in one spectacular loop through 14,000-foot peaks. The section between Ouray and Silverton—called the Million Dollar Highway—features narrow switchbacks with sheer drops and no guardrails. I am not exaggerating when I say my knuckles were white.
But it’s also where I saw my first intact ghost town (Animas Forks) and soaked in natural hot springs in Ouray while snow fell around me. The San Juan National Forest manages much of this area, and they note that the region contains both Victorian mining history and ancient Ancestral Puebloan sites dating back centuries.
Most people try to drive it in one eight-hour push. Don’t. Stay in Silverton or Ouray overnight. Take the narrow-gauge railroad from Durango to Silverton (it follows the same route as the highway but through the canyon below). Explore Mesa Verde National Park ruins just south of the loop. Give yourself three days minimum.
10. Great River Road
The Route: Lake Itasca, Minnesota to the Gulf of Mexico (Louisiana), approximately 3,000 miles through 10 states
I haven’t driven the entire Great River Road yet—it would take weeks to do it justice—but I have covered the Minnesota to Iowa stretch, and it’s a completely different kind of road trip. This isn’t about mountain drama or coastal cliffs. It’s about watching America’s central nervous system flow south, seeing how the landscape and culture shift as you follow the Mississippi River.
The National Mississippi River Museum in Dubuque, Iowa does an excellent job explaining the river’s ecological importance and the history of communities that grew up along its banks. Further south, Effigy Mounds National Monument preserves ancient Native American ceremonial sites overlooking the river.
What strikes me most is the cultural evolution. You start in the north woods of Minnesota, pass through Mississippi River bluff country, then gradually the accent changes, the food changes, the music changes until you hit New Orleans and you’re in a completely different country. It’s American geography as a linear story.
Conclusion
Which drive is “best?” Wrong question. The Pacific Coast Highway gave me the most purely beautiful scenery. Route 66 gave me the most human connection. The Blue Ridge Parkway taught me patience. The Road to Hana tested my marriage (we’re fine now).
Pick based on what you need. If you want dramatic elevation and alpine ecosystems, hit Colorado’s mountain passes. If you want history and culture, follow the Mississippi or chase Route 66 fragments. If you just want to stare at the ocean for hours, drive to Big Sur and stay there.
But whatever you choose, take the back roads when you can. Talk to locals. Eat at diners that look sketchy. The best moments happen when you get slightly lost and have to figure it out.
Last thing: that guy at the Virginia gas station was right. You will find whatever you’re chasing up there on the road. For me, it was remembering that America is far stranger, more beautiful, and more complicated than any single narrative can capture. You have to drive it to understand it.