“You’re driving there?” I was asked this in the same tone someone might ask, “You’re ripping your fingernails out?” See, the company I was working for at the time was doing a “brand activation” at a Supercross race – we were doing them at every race on the circuit that year – and while the rest of team was hopping on a two-hour flight to get to the event, I drew the short straw and would be driving the five or six hours to the venue so I could bring a pickup-truck bedload’s worth of stuff we needed to set up the activation.
But I hadn’t actually drawn the short straw, at least not accidentally: no, I requested the short straw, and the drive it represented. I was looking forward to it, in fact. This stunned my work buddies, who thought I would have it hard while they had it easy. It was the other way around, I explained.
“Let’s do the math,” I said. “Is a two-hour flight really a two-hour flight? You’re going to drive about a half-hour to the airport, take at least another 30 minutes to get through security and to the gate, and then blow an hour waiting at the gate and boarding. We’ll assume the plane takes off and lands on time, and the flight is precisely two hours. You’re going to kill another 30 minutes deplaning and getting your bags, then 30 more getting the rental cars, and then you’re driving at least 40 minutes to the venue. That’s 340 minutes, divide by 60 … five hours and 36 minutes.”
I could see it starting to register. “Going through security, sitting in a gate chair eating a garbage lunch, squeezing into a coach seat, waiting in line at the rental place … none of that sounds fun to me. While you’re doing that, I’m going to hop into a nice, new Honda Ridgeline [the company had just purchased one as an errand runner] and take a scenic drive through southern Texas – alone – as I blast my music as loud as I want. I’ll stop to refill the tank at Buc-Ee’s, stretch my legs a bit and enjoy a chopped brisket sandwich with those hand-cut potato chips of theirs, then hit a full-size, nice-n-private bathroom stall before heading back out on the road in a comfy seat, with my tunes on the stereo and a giant Coke in the cupholder. I’ll arrive about the same time you do. Who will be more refreshed and less sore, you think?”
So, long story short: if the drive is going to be 12 hours or less, and it’s not expected to be a traffic beatdown, I will choose driving over flying every time.
Your turn: How Long Does A Drive Have To Be Before You Consider Flying Instead?
Top graphic images: depositphotos.com
I live in Buffalo NY and think I have “the reference” here.
Gas factors in vs the cost of the flights… NYC is a 7 hour drive from Buffalo. Did it a few times with friends. 2 or 3 fill-ups of gas depending on the car. Then you don’t actually use a car in NYC – you park it. That’s hundreds on it’s own (or if you did use it – more gas, ludicrous tolls, and just as expensive short term parking at every stop would add those hundreds on anyway).
Then JetBlue arrived with direct flights for like $200 round trip and it was like 1 hour in the air, an hour at each end otherwise. Made so much more sense to fly.
Over the decades since, flights have gone up, down, up – made sense to drive, fly, drive…
Cost is the fluctuating factor, not time.
If I can’t physically drive there, I’ll fly. I’m turning 55 in a month, and I’ve never been on a plane. I come from one of those families that just loaded up the station wagon and drove across the country, even if it took days. Personally, I just like driving. You miss too many of the cool things in this country if you fly.
These days I’ll drive cross country before I get on a plane
I live in mid-Michigan. I drove to North Carolina (work related), I flew to Vegas (also work related.)
So about that level of difference.
Somewhere around 8-12 depending on other factors.