Music and driving: it might be an afterthought to most, but the two go together like peanut butter and jelly, like peas and carrots, or (if you're like me) like bacon and more bacon. Cars have been outfitted with radios since the 1930s, allowing drivers to enjoy music whether their driving plans take them to the grocery store, the opposite coast of the country, or around the back roads of their hometown at 2am. Eventually, musicians caught up and, be it consciously or subconsciously, they started to create music that went even better with the hot sun, rest stops, and winding, dimly-lit streets. The following are five excellent aural driving companions.

First up is an album from the now-defunct Piebald. While in their heyday, the band often played with such bands as Saves the Day and Brand New. Piebald's music differed greatly from that of their tour-mates with their multi-hook, loosely-structured songs (like the album's opening powerhouse “Grace Kelly with Wings”) and their clever use of phrases often regarded as hackneyed (“Mess with the Bulls”). Other Piebald albums have road trip vibes as well, but the cover of Venetian Blinds is one of the album's selling points as road trip-friendly: a fully-outfitted van ready for life on the road. The other selling point is, of course, the song about road trips and driving, “Location Is Everything.” At one point the song simply asks, “Would you rather listen to something that starts with a T or an L? The T is for Tom Petty, the L is for Led Zeppelin, yeah!” Clearly we at Inyourspeakers are not the only ones trying to create perfect driving mixes.

Like Venetian Blinds, the cover of Turning On seems to suggest driving, this time specifically under open, blue skies. I've previously written about Turning On's merits as a record to throw on while driving long distances, but here's a summary: “Can't Stay Awake” sets the tone with an excellent sing-along perfect for rides with friends, “Hey Cool Kid” follows suit with an even more excellent chorus, and “Water Turns Back” somehow brings to mind driving in 90 degree heat. The rest of the album will similarly rule your road trip.

Starting to see a trend? Again, judging by that cover, one would tend to think that American Water would be another quintessential driving album, and they'd be correct. However, if Venetian Blinds and Turning On are the fun times on long drives, American Water is the dust that's kicked up behind the speeding car. It's for the times when you're on a long drive with a lot to think about rather than nothing (though there's an album for that too, of course). And out of all the songs tailor-made for the road present on the album, Like Like the the the Death, suits the lonely mood best. Sometimes, ridiculous-yet-kinda-genius thoughts come out of left field that you really want to share with someone (“Let's live where the indoors and the outdoors meet”), but at the same time there may be nobody for you to share them with (“My life at home every day: Drinking Coke in a kitchen with a dog who doesn't know his name”). All you can do is keep driving down that path and hope to come upon someone who understands your ridiculousness.

On the other side of the coin, spacious, atmospheric albums as well as jangly indie rock can also serve as excellent driving accompaniment. The Moon and Antarctica is one album that's perfect for a different kind of drive. It's something you might put on if you live in the suburbs, coasting around at 2am with a full moon overhead reflecting off the surface of a nearby lake or reservoir. “The Stars Are Projectors” might inspire you to get metaphysical; while “Tiny Cities Made of Ashes” will quickly match your sense of desperation (“Does anybody know a way that a body could get away?”). And if you listen to “Gravity Rides Everything” while driving down rolling streets under the moonlight, it'll become apparent why the song was at one point the soundtrack to a Nissan commercial (and moms have nothing to do with it).

Here's where some personal experience comes into play. Before my senior year of high school, I spent a week driving around upstate New York and Canada with my dad touring schools. Both areas are pretty barren, but at one point in Canada the vibe went from lonely to creepy. The drive consisted of empty highways with gray, foreboding clouds that made ordinary roadside staples like telephone poles seem eerie. The long-form instrumental rock on Those Who Tell the Truth matched that situation perfectly. The clouds and empty roads lending an even darker quality to the music. “A Poor Man's Memory” best encompasses that feeling of being weirded out and worried about what comes next in life. However, the end of the record's last song, “With Tired Eyes, Tired Minds, Tired Souls, We Slept,” suggests that the future might be bright after all.