A few weeks ago, I was presented with the opportunity to get behind the wheel of a van, with Willy Whatever the Adventure Dog in tow, and drive down to Nashville and back. It goes without saying that I jumped (lunged, really) at the chance, even though I would not be ensconced in anything close to The Shroom, but rather an Enterprise van filled to the roof with heavy equipment and household items. It’s funny to think that less than a year ago, I would have considered this opportunity far more of a burden, and grudgingly ticked off the miles, whining in my six-year-old head, “Are we there, yet?” Now, armed with a new penchant for road travel, especially in loud, hard-to-handle behemoths that get about 10 miles to the gallon and top out at 70, I was eager to roll. As it turned out, I also had a lot to learn along the way.

The first lesson is that road travel with a friend (the right friend) has huge appeal. This is a lesson I learned long ago about travel in general—passing my travel test (which usually involves airplanes and foreign countries) has long been a prerequisite for any long-term relationship, but road travel is a different beast and I was nervous about taking it on with an unknown. After all, I had it down to a science—when to stop, when to eat, when to gas up and, perhaps most important, what I would listen to. So it was with some concern that I set out on this long haul, hoping that my co-pilot would just shut-up and follow my lead. After the first hour, I realized that my concern was short-sighted and completely without merit. The hours flew by as we belted out songs from the 80s and 90s, played the alphabet game, and punched each other silly every time we saw a Prius (there just aren’t that many VW bugs on the road these days). It turned out that I had stumbled upon an ideal road travel companion in a human! (In fact, Willy’s contribution to the trip was a return to vomiting, which was less fun than rediscovering that I still know all the words to a Level 42 song.)

Aside from a new appreciation for travel companions, I also made another great discovery—the world of dog-friendly hotels doesn’t have to be a sketchy affair. Having dodged needles and similar detritus at Motel 6s and Super 8s across the West, I was amazed to find that a relatively decent hotel chain (La Quinta) welcomes both human and canine guests. To think, it was there the whole time.

For my return trip, I found myself flying solo again, in human terms, having left my friend in Nashville. While I drove, I explored why I had been emphasizing the upsides to going it alone, even going so far as to write that I often prefer it. After this most recent road adventure, I have reevaluated my position—solo travel is very good for the head and offers great rewards, but traveling with someone can be good for the soul.