bakerstreet | The Road Trip meme.

The Road Trip meme.

These guys quit their jobs right before their epic trip.

The Road Trip Meme

How To:
1. Post with your character and the usual information in the subject line and/or comment box. Be sure to include preferences!
2. Others tag you, and will you look at that, you're now on a road trip together! For some reason.
3. Optionally, roll from 1-16 to get your scenario.
4. Have fun and be excellent to each other.

Taken and slightly modified from this previous meme.

1: LOST You should have made a "left toin at Albuquerque," or maybe you've been holding the map upside down this whole time! Whatever it is, you're hopelessly LOST. Will you make it back on the path to your destination, or will you find a new adventure? Try not to open any hatches.

2: Tourist Trap Okay, you're all for seeing the sights, but World's Biggest Doorstopper? World's Smallest Chicken? World's Noisiest Whistle? Do we really have to stop here, too?

3: Car Trouble Maybe you got a flat tire. Maybe your engine's stalled. Or maybe you just overestimated how far you could get on a half tank of gas. Either way, you're broke down on the side of the road and the nearest station is miles away; either fix it yourself or you better get behind it and push!

4: Bad Weather Driving in the rain? No problem. Driving in torrential downpours or a blinding blizzard? Big problem! Better find a way to get out of the storm fast!

5: When Ya Gotta Go... Didn't I tell you to go before we left? Well, even if you did, maybe you shouldn't have had that 44 ounce Super Big Gulp, because there's not another rest stop for miles. Maybe you can find an empty bottle in the back...

6: Road Delays Stuck in traffic? Stuck at road construction? Stuck in a funeral procession? Bridge out? Whatever it is, it's blocking your way. Do you wait patiently, or maybe find your own way around it?

7: Smokey and the Bandit Oh no, those blue lights behind you can't be good. Maybe you should just pull over and accept your speeding ticket like a decent citizen. Or, maybe you should floor it. High speed chase anyone?

8: Night Driving You decided to drive through the night, and now it's one AM and you're all out of coffee. Wake up a friend and make them help you stay awake; falling asleep at the wheel is dangerous!

9: Ghost Town Boy, this town sure is quiet. And... kind of creepy. Oh God, did something in those corn rows just move? I hear banjo music; CAN'T YOU DRIVE ANY FASTER?!

10: Roadkill Good going, you hit an animal. I sure hope you feel good about yourself. Now you've killed the poor- oh, it's still moving? What do we do now!?
10a: The I Know What You Did Last Summer Edition That animal you hit was a little more human than you care for... oh dear...

11: ROAD RAGE That jerk cut me off! How dare he!? I'll make him pay! Or maybe you cut off a less-than-friendly driver of your own, and now he's after you...

12: Carjacked Awww, that was a good lunch. ...Wait, I know this is where we parked... Dude, where's the car!?!?

13: Hitchhiking Who said you needed a car for a road trip? Stick that thumb out and catch a ride where you're going. Maybe you and a buddy are chillin' with the pigs in a trailer, or maybe that nice looking hitchhiker you picked up down the road is not as nice as you thought...

14: Fantasy Car Roads? Where you're going, you don't need roads. If you're in Doc's DeLorean, anyway. Or maybe the car is really Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Or KITT. Or the Batmobile. Or a Transformer! Whatever it is, this car is NOT normal.

15: Road Head Obligatory sex-in-the-car option. Pulling over is the better and safer idea but some people just can't stop...

16: Are We There Yet? Roller's choice! Pick your favorite option, or two, or three, or just roll with whatever feels right!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

[ the jeep smells like worn faux leather peanut butter guts and the heat that the radiator is dutifully belching out, even if it is burning itself alive on the process. there's the faintest hint of tarp mold and sports bag musk, coupled with the lingering particles of mediocre cologne and effectively giving her a dull throbbing headache (though that could be attributed to the sensory overload of having spent the last 76 miles eating up her data plan to indulge in reading tweets on her cell). it's been an uncomfortable trip this far; the jeep that stiles so frequently claims is a piece of crap turns out to be a total piece of utter crap, especially if she compares riding in it to riding shotgun in jackson's porsche. the front is cramped and she spent the first thirty minutes simultaneously complaining and trying to find a comfortable angle to recline her seat. she alternates between putting her feet up on the dashboard and trying to curl them up under her, and when neither position offers more than ten minutes of comfort she insists they pull over and switches places with their bags. ]

[ so now she's taking up the entire back seat, leaning against one chilled door, legs extended to brace against the other, over heated, headachy and wishing they could roll down the windows. but that option's out because twenty minutes ago the sleet that the fog had been promising all day had begun to fall and didn't show any sign of wanting to stop. ]

[ still, it could be worse. she could be college touring entirely on her own, forced to take a greyhound bus and sit next to someone who hasn't seen fit to shower over the winter holidays, or not going at all and staying home alone while her parents attended the post new years parties she had no interest in anymore. of course, jackson would have been ideal company for car tripping to northern california and oregon, but stiles was... okay. he had a car, at least, and let her play dj even after she had moved to the back seat. he was a safe driver, too, but as dark fell a distinctly cold feeling ran the length of her spine. ]

[ which was probably perpetuated by what felt like a water droplet splashing on the base of her neck and earning a muffled, frustrated shriek. ]

If your car is leaking, we're pulling over and I'm hitchhiking.

[ road-trips are cool. stiles likes driving, always has. he learnt as soon as he could — before he could, really. not long after his mom died, his dad started teaching him, and if it was illegal for him to be driving before he was even old enough for his provisional, well, it was only around the block, and he was the sheriff, after all. it had been a way to escape, an excuse to be by himself — but it had also made him useful. ]

[ he's useful now. ]

[ she was supposed to be scott. and god knows scott would have complained a whole lot less, would have sucked up the noise and the leaking and the cramped interiors and they just would have had a good time together. but scott doesn't want to go to college anymore. so it's stiles and lydia, and obviously that's awesome, because spending any time with lydia is simultaneously the best and most painful thing ever, but he still feels kind of ... upset? something. about the fact that his best friend is back in beacon hills, and this is the first step before a more permanent split. ]

Sorry. It's not really that waterproof.

[ as if to emphasize his words, the cd player fizzles out, and he flicks the power off. it won't work again until the connection's had time to dry. this pretty much always happens — no music but the rain and the shifting of his gears. they'll just have to talk. ]

I've patched all the holes in the front, if you wanna come forward again.

[ oh no - talking? dear god no, anything but talking. everyone knows what talking leads to... things like - things like... well, conversations, for one. adult conversations if participants are lucky, soul-bearing if they're equal parts lucky and unlucky, and lydia for one would like to avoid the potentially upsetting and life questioning exchanges in favor for some of the refined tunes of nicki minaj remixed with static. ]

[ but that's not going to happen. she's music on her phone but her headphones are packed in one of her bags, but they're all up front and she doesn't feel like moving. ]

I literally just got comfortable.

[ though that's a subjective term, for as short as she is, this back seat is still not large enough to get completely comfortable. lydia's bordering between just plain unpleasant and grumpy; a basic personality trait topped off with the wear of a long day in not her favorite company, joint stiffness and that shared resentment knowing she should have been taking this trip in a porsche with reclining seats and the radio stations preset to her favorites. ]

Okay, fine. Stay and get dripped on. We'll probably get to the motel soon.

[ there's only a couple of leaks. if she shifts she can probably avoid them going down the back of her neck, or on her fashionably expensive clothes, or whatever. without the music, stiles beats out a taboo on the steering wheel, and then completely disregards road rules to crane his head back and look at her, shoot her a half-grin. ]

[ he may be in a shitty mood and she's a spoiled princess but he'll always have a smile for lydia. ]

Wanna play the numberplate game?

[ except it's dark, and raining; he looks back to the front again and realizes that they probably won't be able to spot many numberplates. he reconsiders: ]

Or I Spy?

[ a motel has never sounded like quite a godsend until this evening. doubtless it will be filthy ("sanitary" until a black light was taken to every surface) and overpriced (though she still wonders if they will be given keys to any sort of mini bar or if breakfast will at least be complimentary - if not unbalanced and fattening) but there will be a bed and a shower, and one night's rest means there's only seven more to go before they're home by her calculations. ]

No.

[ and her calculations do not include road games. ]

No.

[ i spy sounds even more depressing to play in this weather and the same problems arose with it as the numberplate game; it was dark and depressingly rainy. she could spy the rain but that would be easy to guess and get repetitive when they eventually wound up back at rain. still, a silent moment or two after her immediate dismissal, lydia seems to reconsider and begrudgingly shifts, leaning up to rest her elbows on the seats and try to squint past the drizzle and darkness through the windshield. ]

I spy with my little eye...

[ nah. she quickly gives up seeing outside and defaults to an object in the car. ]

....something round.

Steering wheel.

[ stiles doesn't even blink. he doesn't even take a polite moment to think about it. he's pretty much just realized the conclusion lydia came to before she agreed to play: this game is shitty. ]

[ she's shooting a 'did you really think i would choose something so stupidly obvious' glare at the side of his head. ]

No.

[ regardless, he's going to just keep throwing out responses until he gets it, with barely a breath after her no. ]

Planet Earth.

No.

[ this is going to be a very long game. ]

Smaller.

The volume dial. Thing.

[ he reaches over and taps it, in case it's not clear what he's talking about. ]

That's considerably warmer than the Planet Earth, but no.

Are you denying the Earth is round? I admit, I never would have taken you for a flat-Earther, Lydia.

[ he rolls his eyes. ]

An eyeball.

I can't even see the Earth outside of your stupid foggy windows.

[ an eyeroll of her own to compliment his, accompanied by a dramatic huff and slumping back in the seat a little too suddenly; they're not the softest seats and now she could add backpain to her lists of complaints. first and foremost on the list is; ]

This is a stupid game.

[ stiles grimaces in agreement. ]

What about Never Have I Ever?

You're supposed to play that with shots, and - sorry - but I forgot to pack my vodka.

I wouldn't drink and drive anyway.

[ for all that he's an idiot, there are some things his dad managed to drill into his head. road rules and seatbelts and the perils of drink-driving are just a few examples. so, aside from those times when he loses concentration, or forgets and turns around to talk to her, stiles is a good driver. ]

Do you have a better suggestion, Lydia?

[ the radio's dead, the humor is dead, all road games are pointless, talking's out of the question - aaaaaaand she's bored. ]

You could driver faster and we could get there sooner?

It's dark and it's wet and it's totally unfamiliar, excuse me if I feel like going a couple of miles under the speed limit.

[ stiles resolves that if they have an accident, she's going to walk through the rain to get help. ]

[ his excuse is reasonable but earns an exasperated touch of hand to temple anyway. ]

Are we at least close?

Uh, yeah? Shouldn't be too long now.

[ he glances at the low-lit digital clock, which counts to the second: he's always fascinated by the numbers ticking away. ]

Was it my eyeball?

Your voltmeter.

[ now that they're officially not playing the game by the proper rules, she tries to content herself by picking at her nail beds. that's something she could do in any amount of light, purely by touch, but gives up to shift forward and lean to tap the little dial right by the oil pressure. ]

That one.

[ just, you know, in case he didn't know the names of the objects in his own car and she was playing this game at a much more advanced level than was actually fair. ]

[ stiles grins hugely. he loves it, loves it when she isn't afraid to show her intelligence in front of him. ]

I know what a voltmeter is, Lydia.

[ because hello, he's obsessed with every inch of this car. he may not be a mechanic, but he knows his baby backwards. ]

I spy, with my little eye, something that starts wiiiiiith... L!

Oh. Good.

[ perhaps they were more evenly match than she thou -

nope. this reeks of predictability and borderline adorable stupidity, and she is having none of it, casting around for anything else that started with an l. ]

Lamp post.

[ meanwhile, stiles thinks he's a genius. ]

Nope!

My Laura Ashley toiletries bag.

a lovely mixture of 4 and 8~

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject