Ever since I got into travel writing, I've been told to read the works of Joseph Conrad, Jack Kerouac, Edward Abbey, Bruce Chatwin, Paul Theroux, William Dalrymple, Bill Bryson, and other white men. While I learned a lot from their stories, I was also repeatedly left with questions about misogyny and racial insensitivity.
Why do some of us fall violently ill just by glancing at a book in a moving car, while others can read through an entire road trip without any problem at all? Here's the scientific lowdown on what makes carsickness tick, as well as what you can do to prevent (or at least minimize) its wickedly brutal effects.
It's sort of like "On the Road" except the driver is on my car insurance. And when they finally decide to leave Maine (you're where?!), the driver has a cell phone and can call mom about flat tires, stripped lug nuts and how between the four of them, they're down to $2. OK, so it's not like "On the Road" at all.