Let's build an open-road playlist
It's warming up, and that means it's time to hit the road. Prepare thy tunes now.
Before we begin — thank you, thank you, thank you for taking the time to watch our show “Home Turn” over the last week. Thousands upon thousands of you checked out the show on YouTube or Tubi, and the reaction was incredible and heartwarming. Still TBD on future episodes, but this first time around was something I’ll remember for a long time, and I hope you will too. Watch it — again or for the first time — right here or via the link below. Now, onward!
Last week, I was driving west on Interstate 20 from Atlanta toward Birmingham. It’s not the most scenic or interesting of routes; there’s a whole lot of standard-issue highway in the 100-plus miles between Six Flags and Buc-ees.
But there is one notable landmark: Talladega Superspeedway, which spreads vast across the North Alabama flatlands like an ancient Roman coliseum. As race weekend approaches, you can catch sight of those massive flags along the interstate you see above.
Because I am a Media-American in 2025, I spend a fair amount of time listening to podcasts on my drives. But on this particular stretch of road, I always cue up Eric Church’s “Talladega,” a truly great road song. I’ve driven this road enough to time the start of the song so that at the exact moment when the swelling chorus hits, the last of the roadside pines peel away, and there’s the entire racetrack in all its massive, historic glory.
There are essays to be written — hell, I should probably write one — on why both NASCAR and the lure of the open road haven’t quite kept up with the pace of change in American society. Which is a real shame, because NASCAR rules, and so does the open road … with the appropriate music, of course.
What follows are notes toward an Open Road playlist.1 This is a primary-colors first draft, one where you’ll know most if not all of the tunes. The road isn’t necessarily the best place to discover new music and new genres; on road trips, you want a familiar song, the same way you want a familiar driving companion in the shotgun seat beside you.
Because I am a white Gen-X male in 2025, I’ve crafted a list that’s highly biased toward rock of the ‘80s and ‘90s. I recognize that this is not the apex of music, but it’s when music imprinted on my brain, and therefore it’s my default. Your mileage, pun intended, will very much vary. I invite and welcome your contributions to our playlist, which I’ve already taken the liberty of creating here:
So let’s begin. Here are the songs you need to play …
When you’re starting the journey: “Jessica,” The Allman Brothers
No song to me conjures up the feel and promise of the open road quite like this song. I love this damn tune so much I nearly named my daughter after it. (Better than naming her after “Roxanne,” right?) I’m not alone; my friend Tommy Tomlinson, author of the magnificent Dogland, also picked this as his go-to for kicking off a road trip.
When you want a little operatic glory with your road trip: “Born to Run,” Bruce Springsteen
Yes, you’ve heard this song a thousand times. But unless you’ve heard it on a wide-open highway with a past you’re leaving behind and an unknown future ahead, have you really heard it? You gotta get out while you’re young, even if you’re not that young anymore.
Also in this category: “Marry Me,” Drive-By Truckers; “Hollywood Nights,” Bob Seger
When you want to get a speeding ticket: “Panama,” Van Halen
Yes, we’re starting with some warhorses here, but they stick around for a reason. The tempo, the driving beat — if you don’t mash the gas when these songs come on, well, turn it up a little bit … your hearing might be going. Make sure you stretch before you reach down between someone’s legs and ease the seat back, though.
Also in this category: “Kickstart My Heart,” Motley Crue; “Breakin’ the Law,” Judas Priest
When you want to bang out a drumbeat on the steering wheel: “Since You Been Gone,” Rainbow
I see you drumming in your car. And you are awesome. Right on the beat and everything. Keep it going there, Neil Peart.
Also in this category: “My Hero,” Foo Fighters; “Are You Gonna Be My Girl?”, Jet
When you want to bathe in a little nostalgia: “Talladega,” Eric Church
The first line of “Talladega” is, “It was the summer before the real world started…”, so you know right from the jump where this one’s headed2. Sometimes you want to just spend a little time thinking about friends from long ago.
Also in this category: “Fast Car,” Tracey Chapman
When you want to sing along at the top of your lungs: “Build Me Up Buttercup,” The Foundations
I see you singing in your car. And you are on key, hitting both melody and harmony! Well done. Mariah Carey needs to watch her back.
Also in this category: “Semi-Charmed Life,” Third Eye Blind
When you want to bathe in a little regret: “Alabama Pines,” Jason Isbell
Look, we all wish we had a do-over on some of our worst decisions. The open road is the place to wrestle with those demons. Cheaper than a therapist.
Also in this category: “She’s Gone,” Hall & Oates
When you want to engage in a little role-playing: “It Was A Good Day,” Ice Cube
Assuming you did not grow up in South Central in the early 1990s, or tour the United States as a longhaired arena rocker in the 1970s, these songs are a chance for you to take on a new character for a few minutes3. (Unrelated: Nobody who heard this song ever looks at a Goodyear blimp the same way again.)
Also in this category: “Turn the Page,” Bob Seger
When you’re a lonely drifter who walks alone, or something: “Here I Go Again,” Whitesnake
Nobody understands you except the open road. And that’s OK. You’ve got miles to go before you sleep. But you really ought to shower, too.
Also in this category: “Flirtin’ With Disaster,” Molly Hatchet
When you want to feel like you’re driving in a well-soundtracked movie: “Ventura Highway,” America
You know the feeling — all of a sudden, the right song comes on and you feel like you’re on the cusp of some sort of life-changing epiphany, after which nothing will be the same. Let it happen. Don’t force it.
Also in this category: “Under Pressure,” Queen
When it’s late and you’re all alone on the highway: “Grand Canyon,” Drive-By Truckers
The hum of your wheels, the thin glow of the headlights, the stars overhead. These are the moments when you unlock something greater in your consciousness. Especially if you’ve had a couple Red Bulls.
Also in this category: “Jupiter’s Faerie,” Sturgill Simpson
When you just want to be as literal as possible: “I Can’t Drive 55,” Sammy Hagar
Because sometimes you just gotta play it straight down the middle. You put on Jimmy Buffett on the beach, you put on Sammy Hagar when you’re out on the road. That simple. Just enjoy it.
Also in this category: “Thunder Road,” Bruce Springsteen
Here’s the full playlist. Hit me up in the comments or via message/email with your additions, and I’ll update it in real time. And hey, if you use this thing for its intended purpose, drop me a line and let me know where you’re headed … and how many tickets you get along the way.
That’ll do it for this week, folks. Stay safe, stay warm, and find your way back here next week!
—Jay
Land Cat, Georgia
This is issue #155 of Flashlight & A Biscuit. Check out all the past issues right here. Feel free to email me with your thoughts, tips and advice. If you’re new around here, jump right to our most-read stories, or check out some of our recent hits:
Home Turn, our new show for NASCAR Studios, is right here for you to watch:
Gasparilla is hell on earth and I can’t wait to go back
What horrors lurk in Palm Beach’s Coral Cut?
Our first documentary, on the famous Rama Jama’s diner in Tuscaloosa, Alabama
What does “Flashlight & A Biscuit” mean, anyway?
Keep in touch with me via Substack message:
And load up a to-go box before you leave:
If you dig this newsletter, share it with your friends. Invite others to the party, everyone’s welcome.
No, we’re not doing one song a day. I learned my lesson back in December with the holiday playlist when dozens of subscribers — not you, you’re cool — went sprinting to that “unsubscribe” button as the newsletters rolled in, day after day.
For the record, the last year that Talladega hosted a summer race was in 1996, so the real world started for Eric Church then or before.
Also for the record: the “good day” in question was January 20, 1992. The science proves it.