Over half a century ago, a young medical student from Buenos Aires embarked on a motorbike journey across South America with a friend. That student would later become Che Guevara, the world’s most iconic and impossibly romantic failed revolutionary. Failure aside, Che’s account of the trip, The Motorcycle Diaries, offers a sensitive portrayal of a privileged youth awakening to the harsh realities of ordinary life and the injustices underpinning them. This transformative journey would shape the boy into the man he would become.

　　In 2004, the story received a vivid adaptation in Walter Salles' film The Motorcycle Diaries, featuring Gael García Bernal. By now, Bernal likely graces more posters and pin-ups than the iconic Che Guevara himself ever did.

　　Yet, the iconic image of Che—immortalised in Alberto Korda's unforgettable photograph—might never have achieved such profound resonance had he not embarked on his 500cc Norton motorcycle journey. Such is the extraordinary transformative power of a road trip.

　　There’s something uniquely liberating about travelling in a vehicle you control—where the journey becomes more meaningful than the destination itself. Poets have long grasped the redemptive, transformative, and maturing essence of being on the move, which is why so many metaphorical expressions celebrate the journey over the destination.

　　As at least one music critic has noted, Bruce Springsteen wouldn’t have written a third of his songs, nor would he have been recognised as one of rock’s great songwriters, had he failed his driving test. It’s impossible to imagine the man without the metaphor of driving as a means of redemption or self-discovery.

　　The notion of driving as essential to all levels of human existence is deeply ingrained in the automotive culture of the USA. This idea is superbly captured in Lesley Hazleton’s Driving to Detroit. It’s not just about finding herself. Hazleton drives all over America, encountering everyone from struggling rednecks to smooth-faced billionaires—and she explores how the car, its myths, and metaphors lend fundamental meaning to these varied lives.

　　Automotive articulation, girl-style, isn’t necessarily new, even in India, but what about the hairy, oily, smelly, and dangerous world of biking? In The Perfect Vehicle, Melissa Holbrook Pierson says the motorcycle (her weapon of choice is a big Moto Guzzi, a classic Italian marque) may be all these things, but nothing captures the soul-enhancing, liberating joy of fast riding on a good bike better.

　　Such philosophical ruminations transfer to a visual medium with considerable reluctance. However, that is precisely one of the triumphs of the graphic novel series Preacher, one of the finest of its genre. Writer Garth Ennis and artist Steve Dillon put together a gory, sexy, funny, and darkly redemptive road trip involving hedonism, conspiracy theory, hard-drinking Irish vampires, and a thoroughly unwilling God.

　　A different sort of road, yet one with traffic, obstacles, and hope, features in the rather more serene discoveries of John Pollack in Cork Boat. The former White House speechwriter found himself so upset by seamy politics that he revived a childhood dream, built a boat from wine corks (165,321 of them), and sailed down Portugal’s Douro River.

　　And yet, an article on road trips as an allegory for greater discovery beyond the physical destination would be incomplete without mentioning Jack Kerouac. On The Road—that particular pilgrim’s progress—is the germinal statement on the wonderful, unequalled head rush that comes to people who get out and truly see the world. It may still also be the last word on the subject. So there.