Survival Guide For The Neurodivergent Road Trip

Survival Guide For The Neurodivergent Road Trip

BY ELIZABETH YUKO

The vibrations from the road when driving through a construction zone, my father’s cigarette smoke, the tight, dry skin on the palms of my hands after scrubbing them in rest-stop bathrooms — my childhood road trips were a sensory assault. 

Still, they were the highlight of my year.

By the time I was 10, I was a road trip veteran. My father traveled a lot for work, and during school holidays, my mother, sister, and I would pack up the station wagon and join him. We’d travel from our home in Ohio to far-off places like Minnesota, Florida, Wisconsin, and Virginia, where we’d check into a Holiday Inn near my dad’s job site and hope it had a pool.

Even though I was uncomfortable in the backseat, wasn’t a fan of the Spam sandwiches we ate to save money, and had the unenviable job of manning the cooler, I still looked forward to the novelty of these trips. Not only were they a rare break from our chores and a chance to swim in an over-chlorinated pool, we also had permission to drink the free watery coffee from the motel lobby, and watch David Letterman and other late-night TV shows that aired past our bedtime. Plus, as an extremely curious kid, I loved to explore and learn new things, and my mother always had activities planned at our destination, like visiting local children’s museums, parks, playgrounds, and public libraries. 

The hardest part of these trips was navigating the sensory experiences I couldn’t control.

Until I was diagnosed with ADHD in my 30s, I didn't realize I was experiencing sensory sensitivities — a common part of neurodivergence.

Identifying these sensitivities has allowed me to come up with ways to accommodate myself – including during road trips (most of which are solo these days). 

As a freelance journalist, I have a more flexible schedule and the ability to work while traveling, so I’m able to hit the road often. Many of my road trips are within my new home state of New York, but I’ve also driven parts of Route 66, ventured to both the Mexican and Canadian borders, and crisscrossed Vermont, Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Indiana. Because I don’t own a car and renting one is an expensive hassle, I always try to make the most of every moment on the road.

Fortunately, the process of preparing for a road trip is as simple as taking inventory of what bothers me during long car trips, from sights, sounds, and smells, to texture, temperature, and taste. Next, I come up with solutions to my sensory problems. What would make each situation better, or at least more tolerable during a road trip?

Here are some of the strategies I use to adapt to my sensitivities while on the road.    

Come up with a loose schedule

For me, the ideal road trip is one that allows me to take side trips off the main road to explore, while also having some kind of structure so I’m not driving around aimlessly. This means giving myself plenty of time to explore, but also mapping out potential attractions, rest stops, and food options along the way. 

Rather than an hour-by-hour breakdown, I think in terms of morning, afternoon, and evening. For example, on a recent solo road trip in Arizona, I woke up at the Grand Canyon Hotel on Route 66 in Williams — the oldest hotel in the state — then drove to Flagstaff, explored the city, and got a leisurely bite to eat at a French cafe before my 2pm tour at the Riordan Mansion. After that, I drove back to Scottsdale, where my trip was ending, by way of Sedona, where I spent an hour or two visiting various vistas and rock formations that glowed in the early evening sunlight.  

All of the sensory experiences that come with being on the open road can be exhausting, and I need time to recharge. That’s why I also make sure to schedule in some down time, like a morning to sleep in, an afternoon power nap after checking into a hotel, or an early evening in which to relax. 

Keep track of time

Time blindness is my ultimate adversary on a road trip. Like the time a “quick” detour to check out some Underground Railroad sites along the Ohio River turned into an all-day excursion. Or the time I got sidetracked by an antique mall 7 miles outside of my destination. When I emerged 3 hours later, my arms full of vintage kitchen tools and magazines, I realized the historic home I wanted to visit was already closed. 

There’s not necessarily anything wrong with embracing spontaneity or following the road wherever it takes you, but if you are trying to make it to a destination by a particular time, it can set you back. To prevent this from happening, I set multiple alarms and reminders on my phone so I’m well aware of how long I’ve spent at a particular location. 

Pack sun protection

The glare of the sun off my windshield, the blinding sand of the desert – my eyes are extra sensitive to the sun and other bright lights, so sunglasses (ideally, multiple pairs in case one breaks or gets lost) are non-negotiable. I also bring a collapsible sun hat — it doesn’t take up much space, but it can be a lifesaver if you’re driving towards the sun, or stop somewhere with no shade. Lastly, I make sure to bring a few of the tinted window clings (the kind usually sold for babies). For around $10, they can make a big difference on especially bright days. 

Carry instant temperature control

Ever since I developed an autoimmune condition that makes it difficult for my body to regulate its temperature (thanks, Covid), I’ve become more sensitive to hot and cold. For instance, pumping a tank of gas in the summer causes me to overheat — even once I return to the air-conditioned car. The same thing happens in the winter, except I’m unable to warm up. That’s why I throw a few instant cold packs and instant hot packs — the kind you pop to activate — in my bag for road trips. The immediate relief is usually enough for me to get back to driving or exploring comfortably. For the same reason, I also make sure I have a few layers of clothing with me in the car.

Prepare a few playlists

There are a lot of noises – and accompanying vibrations – on the open road: the sound of your vehicle’s engine, that car behind you that desperately needs a new muffler, the roar of a semi-truck barreling down the highways. To help mitigate my sound sensitivity, I always make sure I have two playlists ready to go: one with songs that are upbeat and make me happy, and another with songs I find soothing (but not enough to make me fall asleep). Podcasts are a no-go for me because they take my focus off the road, but they might be a positive distraction for others.

Block the noise

Speaking of auditory sensitivities, I also bring a pair of noise-canceling headphones and a pair of good old-fashioned earplugs with me on road trips. Whether your overnight accommodations are on a busy street or you need to pull over to regroup with a few minutes of silence, having the ability to tune out the rest of the world is key.

Bring a face mask

Even if you no longer wear face masks for Covid-related reasons, you may want to throw one in your glove compartment to block out powerful smells. If you’re sensitive to the diesel fumes of a truck, a car spewing black exhaust, or pollution from factories (if you’ve ever driven through Newark, New Jersey IKYK), putting on a face mask can help. 

While I never let sensory sensitivities prevent me from going on road trips, this form of travel is far more pleasant now that I’ve learned how to manage them. Instead of being distracted by bright lights, fumes, or the temperature, I’m now fully present to experience the freedom, unpredictability, and all the other joys of the open road.

BIO: Elizabeth Yuko, PhD, is a bioethicist and journalist. Her writing has appeared in publications including The New York Times, Rolling Stone, The Atlantic, The Washington Post, Architectural Digest, The Wall Street Journal, Dwell, CNN, Real Simple, and Teen Vogue, among others.