When the hubby and I decided to road trip the historic Route 66 from LA to Chicago and back west through the northern states, we knew hotel costs could quickly drain our budget. So we got creative with our accommodation strategy: spend at least two thirds of the nights (for free) at highway rest areas, those little oasis of lukewarm family picnics and questionable hygiene practices that line America’s interstates.

“The main reason I became a traveling artist was to avoid having a real job. It was about being free to move. Wanderlust.”
– Bob Waldmire, the iconic Route 66 artist
Weirdos Just Like You
Why, you ask, would we subject ourselves to spending countless nights at places you typically only stop at for a few minutes to use the restroom and restock on stale Cheez-Its before getting right back on the road? Well, aside from a desire to avoid that pesky $150 per night hotel bill, there’s this strange and deeply American charm to rest area car-camping that I haven’t found anywhere else.
I was expecting the rest area “people watching” to be a horrifying cross-section of American despair – haggard truckers, fellow vagabonds retching up a night’s worth of Bud Light behind a dumpster, strung-out vagrants, and miserable families crammed into sweltering cars, all united in their quest for a lukewarm, vending-machine caffeine injection. A perfect setting for a low-budget horror flick.
There’s the ever-present worry about “those people.” You know the ones – the shadowy figures lurking in the periphery, the ones who make you clutch your bag a little tighter. But here’s the surprising twist: in our experience, “those people” often turn out to be young families with wide-eyed children, grateful for a pee-break and a chance to stretch their legs.
Lullaby From Hell
The rest area is a microcosm of humanity on the move – a melting pot of weary travelers, truckers with stories etched on their faces, and moms fleeing the minivan mosh pit for a few precious moments of peace.
Don’t get me wrong, masquerading as Jack Kerouac is not for the faint of heart or the week of nostril. Some of these places reek of exhaust fumes and broken dreams. The night soundtrack is a symphony of thundering 18-wheelers on the nearby freeway, mysterious metallic clanking, and the guttural groans of idling diesel engines in the parking lot. The harsh glare of street lamps pierces your car window. Absolute bliss for insomniacs everywhere.
However, the overwhelming majority of the rest areas are outright delightful. Big swaths of mowed grass, shade trees, picnic benches, lovingly put-together displays of local history and memorabilia, spotless bathrooms, slides and swings. The best-equipped ones, those bastions of highway luxury, had showers, massage chairs, laundry machines, a grocery store, TV rooms, and a restaurants.
Dads talked about stock market investments while walking their dogs. Kids were crawling on the jungle gym to burn off some energy before curling up in car seats for the night. A gray-haired rest area attendant spent 30 minutes polishing the three mirrors in the bathroom. An elderly lady asked Mark to fill her water bottle, her own hands shaking with Parkinson’s.
Then there were iconoclasts like the weathered farm-hand from South Dakota who spent six months a year roaming the US highways in his truck to “really see this goddamn country”, or the California surfer who set up his portable stove in the middle of the parking lot to make some hot java after he crawled out of the trunk of his hatchback in the morning.
The “Hotel Prius”: A Masterclass in Rest Area Car Camping
It’s an adventure, but even at the best of times you can forget your evening routine of yoga, hot bath, meditation and journaling. Our bedtime went like this:
- At dusk – search for rest areas with the lowest number of horrible reviews.
- Get there, sit in the locked car, examine the surroundings with a suspicious eye.
- See gleeful children running around.
- Unclench.
- Get out of our trusty white Prius (we call her Snowball) and meticulously stash all our belongings on the front seats.
- Collapse the back seats flat to create a surprisingly spacious sleeping boudoir for two reasonably small humans.
- Go pee and brush our teeth.
- Squirm into our sleeping bags (we have these cheap, enormously warm and bulky sleeping bags that can be connected into one huge double bag or used as 2 separate, personal cocoons. Unlike those ultra-light mummy sacks for a PCT through-trek, these glorious, oversized, beasts are stuffed with enough filler to smother a flock of geese).
- In the morning, make a thermos of coffee using our immersion water heater
- Repeat.
We’re Not Alike
The hubby and I differ in our doze-off routine:
Me:
I sink my face into my lovely, memory foam pillow. I wrestle with the existential dilemma: Do I use my heavy-duty earplugs, and eyeshade that no ray of light can penetrate but leaves me feeling like a blindfolded hostage, or do I wake up 10 times a night? There’s no middle way. The sensory deprivation gear wins. In dead silence, I stare into the blackness until the exhaustion wins.
The Hubby:
Plays 5 minutes of Scrabble on his phone, closes his eyes and goes to sleep, sweatshirt folded under his head.
The Trap of Comfort
We sleep well in the car. However, after a few days, the hair gets greasy and the body needs a bit more than wet wipes. That’s when we’d make our triumphant return to the land of the conventionally housed.
Hot shower, fresh white towels and soft bedding of a Hyatt (category 1 or 2, booked with our meticulously hoarded Chase points, of course) feel that much more lush after a few days of “roughing it” (I put it in quotes because we don’t exactly sleep in a ditch, Snowball provides a good shelter). We scrub the road grime off our bodies, do occasional laundry, and stuff ourselves with a free breakfast buffet of eggs, waffles, bacon, berries, granola, yogurt, apples, oranges, and coffee.
But comfort is a trap. During our rest area and camping days, we wander and explore for 15 hours a day. I have no trouble hitting my 10k step daily goal. We meet people, hear stories, eat local foods, pet animals, listen to the cicadas, smell the rain in the air. Whereas our hotel days consist of long hours on the computer, short afternoon walks, and evenings spent watching TV. Hotel rooms are too damn seductive with their high-count linens, feather pillows, and pretty views.
Should You?
So would I recommend this Mad-Max-meets-Norman-Rockwell rest area residency program to you, fellow intrepid (or desperately broke) traveler?
Abso-bloody-lutely.
It’s the only way to experience the underbelly of American car culture in all its glory and the humble, 24/7 utopia amidst the asphalt wasteland. Sure, you’ll question your life choices and sanity on a nightly basis but you’ll earn the smug satisfaction of being a hardened road warrior who doesn’t need the coddling comforts of the industrial complex. Just be sure to bring those ear plugs.
Practical tips
- Scout Your Spot: Aim for a parking space away from the brightest lights and loudest trucks.
- Use Eye Mask and Earplugs (I love these).
- Stay Vigilant: Paranoia aside, a little caution goes a long way. Keep your keys and phone close and your doors locked. If a place doesn’t feel right, leave.
- Manage Expectations: It’s not the Ritz, it’s not even a Motel 6. Lower your standards and appreciate the fact that it’s free, functional, and—occasionally—fascinating.
- Be Organized: Make getting ready for bed run smoothly. Have a separate night bag with everything you may need in the evening.
- Wear Comfy Sleeping Clothes.
- Ventilation: Open all your car windows slightly to allow for ventilation (unless it’s raining).
- Night-Time Peeing Plan: Unless you travel alone, have a plan. For us, when Mark gets up in the middle of the night to pee, he takes the car keys with him, locking me in.
- Morning Routine:Â Stretch, play, and exercise after you wake up. Make a hot drink. We use an immersion water heater in our 40 oz stainless steel thermoses to make coffee or tea each morning.
- Stay Hydrated: Fill your water bottles before you leave.
- Leave the rest area nicer than you found it.
- Time Restrictions: Some rest areas have time restrictions (looking at you, South Dakota, and your illogical 3-hour limit). We have always exceeded those and stayed the whole night. We have never been asked to leave.
- Relax and Enjoy: Make sure you’re safe, then relax and enjoy the adventure!
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Our Gear, Tried and Tested
Double Sleeping Bag
This sleeping bag is warm (high 30sF and up), soft and extremely comfortable, suitable whenever you transport your gear by car. It’s too bulky to carry in a backpack. You can use it in a variety of ways:
- One huge, double sleeping bag for a couple and their dog (or child)
- 2 individual sleeping bags (zipped up)
- 2 blankets (completely unzipped)
- 2 sleeping quilts (zip up the foot box and leave the rest open as a blanket)
Double Inflatable Sleeping Mat
We tested this double, extra-wide sleeping mat by laying it over frozen ice packs on our living room floor. Unable to feel any cold, we knew we had a winner. This foam-filled mat is big, bulky, and heavy – perfect for car camping but not for backpacking (unless you’re into rucking). It self-inflates and can be topped up by mouth.
We sleep on it in our tent, and also in our car – folded in half across the trunk and back seats to make a comfy sleeping surface. It’s a steal at just $60-$70, while similar mats can cost hundreds. For car campers on a budget, it’s a great choice that doesn’t skimp on comfort.
Immersion Water Heater
Our 67-day camping trip was fueled by hot coffee and tea, thanks to this electric water heater. The morning routine was simple: I’d fill my stainless steel thermos with water from the campground dispenser, drop in the heater, and plug it into the outlet in the bathroom. By the time I finished brushing my teeth, voila! Boiling water ready for our morning brew. One crucial tip: always unplug the heater before removing it from the water. The metal element gets red-hot otherwise. With this nifty device, we enjoyed hot beverages in national parks and rest areas, making those crisp mornings a lot more bearable.
Memory Foam Pillow
I can sleep on a concrete floor, as long as I have a good pillow. I’m a side-sleeper and this pillow props my head in just the right way. I use it both at home and while car camping.
Earplugs
As the wife of a champion snorer, I’ve become an unwilling earplug connoisseur. I’ve tried them all: uncomfortable plastic ones, gummy ones that I’ve somehow transferred into my mouth while sleeping and woken up chewing, and hit-or-miss foam varieties. Then my hubby, in a stroke of genius (or self-preservation), introduced me to these little miracles.
The process is simple: roll with your fingers, insert into your ear, and let expand. As they do, the world fades into blissful silence. Snoring, truck rumbles at rest stops – all muffled or eliminated. I reuse each pair a few times before switching to a fresh set when they lose their oomph.
These little foam marvels have saved my sleep and possibly my marriage.
Thermos Water Bottles
These trusty water bottles have been our constant companions across more than 30 countries since 2016. They kept coffee steaming hot on chilly camping mornings, held cold water during scorching Death Valley crossings, they tasted pristine glacier water in New Zealand, and woodland streams in Slovakia.
Over the years, they’ve acquired a few dents and scratches that tell the story of their travels. Now, covered in a collection of hippie stickers, they continue to serve us well. They quenched our thirst and fueled our adventures across many climates.
4 thoughts on “Free Car Camping in the US Rest Areas”
Wow! You two are amazingly brave. I love how you describe your adventures.
Thanks Lucy! We are more foolish than brave 😉 So far so good though, the world is mostly safe and people are generally lovely. Last night we slept at a rest area outside of Boise, Idaho and the majority of our “neighbors” were solo women.
Unsure if our rest areas here can compete, maybe the newer ones could get close.
Instead of Cheez-Its we have at least Manner and Almdudler in the vending-machines, hence the hubby would be happy.
Yum! Manner and Almdudler are definitely a huge step up! The hubby is already packing his bags.