From Coast to Coast

Some trips rearrange you. Not in the loud, life-changing way movies promise, but in the quiet spaces between gas stations, in the miles where the radio scans for a signal and all you have is the hum of the engine and whatever version of yourself you’re trying to outrun.

Last summer, I crossed the country alone—twelve states, two coasts, one restless heart—and I didn’t realize until halfway through that what was holding me together wasn’t the coffee, or the maps, or the promise of a new skyline.

It was the music.

These are the twelve songs that saved my road trip, woven into the moments and landmarks where they found me—songs that felt less like tracks and more like companions.

1. California — Big Sur Cliffs + “Riptide” (Vance Joy)

The Pacific shimmered like a secret. Fog curled around the cliffs in slow, silver ribbons. “Riptide” played just as I rounded a bend and sunlight broke open across the water.
That’s how the trip began: one burst of brightness, one lyric I could follow forward.

2. Arizona — Painted Desert + “Take It Easy” (Eagles)

The heat rose in gentle waves, the kind that soften everything—thoughts, edges, expectations. I rolled the windows down and let the desert wind braid itself into the melody. Suddenly, the world felt wide again.
A reminder that sometimes you just need to—truly—take it easy.

3. New Mexico — Route 66 Stretch + “Space Song” (Beach House)

There’s a quiet in New Mexico that doesn’t feel empty. It feels cosmic. When “Space Song” drifted through the speakers, the desert became a galaxy of its own—pink horizons fading into blue, the road stretching forever like a timeline I wasn’t quite ready to end.
A soft, dreamy moment where loneliness felt almost beautiful.

4. Texas — Buc-ee’s at 2 A.M. + “On the Road Again” (Willie Nelson)

I was tired enough to laugh at everything, including the oversized beaver mascot staring at me from the snack aisle. Somewhere between the neon lights and the smell of brisket, Willie Nelson kicked in, and suddenly it felt like the road had opened its arms.
Texas has a way of making you feel both lost and found.

5. Louisiana — New Orleans Bridge + “Midnight City” (M83)

Crossing into New Orleans feels like stepping into a heartbeat. The city glows differently—humid, rich, alive. “Midnight City” matched its pulse perfectly.
For a moment the bridge, the skyline, and the synths all blurred into one electric breath.

6. Mississippi — River Overlook + “Landslide” (Fleetwood Mac)

I pulled over without planning to. The river was calm, glassy, slow—everything I wasn’t. “Landslide” began, and suddenly my own reflection felt older than I remembered.
A quiet reckoning.
A song that catches you gently, even when your heart is heavy.

7. Alabama — Small Diner Jukebox + “Hey There Delilah”

There’s always one diner on every road trip where time pauses. Mine had checkered floors, a faded jukebox, and a waitress who called everyone darlin’.
Some stranger picked “Hey There Delilah,” and the whole room softened.
Funny how a song you’ve heard a thousand times can feel new in the right place.

8. Georgia — Morning Fog + “Georgia” (Vance Joy or Ray Charles)

I hit the state line at dawn, the trees dissolving into mist like a watercolor painting. “Georgia” played—either version would have been perfect—and for once, everything aligned: the name of the place, the name of the song, the feeling of coming home to something you didn’t know you missed.

9. South Carolina — Empty Pier at Dawn + “Home” (Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros)

The pier stretched into the pale morning light, wooden boards creaking like an old friend clearing their throat. “Home” echoed with a kind of warmth I wasn’t expecting.
There are moments that stay with you long after the trip ends. This was one of them.

10. North Carolina — Blue Ridge Parkway + “Holocene” (Bon Iver)

If you’ve ever driven the Parkway, you know: the world gets quiet there. Trees arch overhead like cathedral ceilings, the light filters through in soft gold, and the air feels older than everything else.
“Holocene” played, and suddenly life felt both small and sacred.
A reminder that the middle of nowhere can also be the center of everything.

11. Virginia — Civil War Overlook + “Heroes” (David Bowie)

History hangs heavy in Virginia. I stood at an overlook where battles once reshaped the country. “Heroes” played, not triumphantly, but gently—like a promise that people can grow, change, rebuild.
For one day at least, we can be heroes.

12. Maryland → New York — Final Stretch + “Don’t Stop Believin’”

Predictable? Absolutely.
Perfect? Also yes.
I sang it loud, off-key, windows down, the skyline rising like the ending of a movie I didn’t want to finish.
The road had carried me farther than miles can measure.

The Playlist That Became A Map

By the time I reached New York, I realized the truth:
I hadn’t just traveled through states.
I’d traveled through versions of myself—ones I’d forgotten, ones I’d outgrown, ones I was finally brave enough to meet.

These twelve songs didn’t just soundtrack the journey.
They saved it.

Your Turn: What’s Your Road-Trip Anthem?

Every great road trip has one song that holds the whole journey together.
The one that kept you awake.
The one that made you feel something.
The one that carried you from one chapter of your life into the next.

Tell me: What’s your road-trip song?

I want to hear the soundtrack that saved your miles.