Postcards from the road

Just because you're strapped for cash doesn't mean you can't travel.

Those of us with more time than money in our pockets still can get out and see the world. True, "the world" I refer to may not be Paris. It may not be Milan (unless you mean Milan, Ohio, where the premier Italian restaurant is attached to the Super 8). But a person hardly has to go all the way to those far-flung places to hunt down a novel experience. You just have to get into the right frame of mind, then get into your car.

Now, I'm not suggesting that anyone survive on a sack of cheese sandwiches while camping in the back seat of their Volkswagen by the glow of a discount store parking lot. Far from it.

I've driven thousands of miles in the last year. I've passed through South Dakota, Wyoming and Utah with a trunk full of bed pillows on the way to San Francisco and the Grand Canyon. I've crossed the moonscape of North Dakota to Montana and road-tripped from New York City through the aforementioned Milan, Ohio, to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. I've driven through Mississippi and Alabama to reach Apalachicola, land of oysters, in the Florida Panhandle.

Along the way I learned a few things. Such as, never say no to a slice of church buffet sheet cake and beware of cackling, gap-toothed, papier mâché carnival heads, such as can be found at San Francisco's Musee Mecanique. But mostly I discovered that by heeding a few guidelines and making some truly non-strenuous preparations, a person can get where she's going, no matter where it is, in style and comfort and still have change left for pie.

Pack a cooler

My husband and I were driving the Natchez Trace, a parkway that runs from Natchez, Miss., to Nashville, Tenn. This road has been trod by buffalo, American Indians, traveling preachers, Confederate soldiers, and now a couple of road-trippers seeking green in the middle of winter. The Trace is heavy on historical landmarks and moss-strewn swamps, but light on cafes and gas stations.

You'll also save cash, and a bit of space in a landfill somewhere, if you bring a gallon of water to refill the smaller bottle kept in the front seat. If you like good coffee, by the way, be sure to pack a manual French press and a bag of grounds. Hot water can be obtained from just about any convenience store or gas station, whether from a tea stand or a microwave oven. A Pyrex measuring cup will serve you well in this regard, as it won't break or become deformed when zapped.

Be your own concierge

Sometimes the weary driver craves a bit of luxury. So long as you're flexible, a room with HBO on the plasma screen is far from a pipe dream. I discovered this as I set out on a 10-hour bum destroyer from Rapid City, S.D., to Salt Lake City, nearly 700 miles.

Before leaving the hotel in Rapid City, I'd availed myself of the free Wi-Fi and consulted William Shatner (www.priceline.com), bidding on any four-star hotel in downtown Salt Lake. This is always a bit of a gamble because if a bid is rejected, you have to change your criteria or wait 24 hours to place another. But I got lucky. That night, after a sauna and a swim, I slept like a stone under a down quilt at the Hilton, with a view to die for of the surrounding mountains -- a $200 room for $65.

When it comes to necessary road tools, add the laptop (or fancy smartphone) to the tire gauge, the map and the jack. It will not only keep you in cheap sleeps, but it'll serve as an on-the-fly research center for roadside attractions and landmarks (try www.RoadsideAmerica.com), such as the exact spot on Michigan's Mackinac Bridge where that Yugo was blown off in 1989.

Rent a house

It was midmorning in Apalachicola, Fla., and my husband and I were lounging about our 12-sided, hurricane-proof vacation house, when the landlord knocked at the door. Victor, who has Kevin Kline's teeth and a lilting accent that makes you wish he'd never stop talking, asked, "You want to buy some shrimp?"

Yeah, I wanted to buy some shrimp.

Outside, two fisherwomen stood next to their pickup truck, the longbed loaded with buckets of ice and whole shrimp -- eyes and tentacles and all -- caught just that morning. One of the women, deeply tan with white blond hair, scooped a couple of handfuls onto the scale that hung from the back of the truck. Two pounds, $11.

This is exactly the sort of thing that never happens at a hotel. If you're a destination-oriented traveler, consider renting a house rather than a hotel room (check sites such as www.craigslist.org or www.homeaway.com). Generally, the prices per night are lower, and you'll wind up with a kitchen, maybe even a balcony overlooking the woods or the ocean. Often, houses rented by the month are hugely discounted, so try to recruit some friends to split a stretch.

There we were, standing on a rock outcropping, gazing over the south rim of the Grand Canyon, not a soul around. The sun fell over the cliffs, sprinkled with snow like powdered sugar on a cake doughnut. It was March, months before the herds of motor homes typically arrive, and we'd rented a room that costs more than $100 in high season, for half that. We'd eaten stuffed chicken and salmon tostadas at the El Tovar lodge, circa 1905 -- at a window table, no less, just 20 feet from the big drop.

Traveling off-season will save you a bundle on hotels, restaurants and entrance fees, plus give you a crowd-free setting. If you want to stand in the National Archives in D.C. and read every word of the Constitution, there won't be a man wearing a white sweatshirt and umbrella hat urging you to move along. Aim for the transitional seasons. If it's chilly, bring a jacket.

Go indie

Traveling to less explored places -- think Sam Hill's Stonehenge in Washington state rather than Disney World -- almost always pays off. When you can, stay in one-of-a-kind motels (www.motelamericana.com) and eat what the locals eat (www.roadfood.com), such as boiled peanuts in Florida, pasties in Michigan's Upper Peninsula and pecans in Georgia. You'll get the best deals, because indies tend to support less overhead and their proprietors are free to haggle.

Plus, you'll meet characters like the old guy who runs a clapboard gas station in the U.P. When you pull up to this country store in the middle of nowhere, the guy looks you over, and if he decides he likes you, turns on the lone pump.