As much as I’d like to deny it, the time when my eldest will head off to college is nearly here. He has, of course, expressed many opinions on where he’d like to end up. Few of them are rooted in any sort of fiscal reality. That’s why I insisted on a spring break road trip to check out a few in-state colleges. When I spoke to Chevrolet about it, they wanted to make sure the trip went as smoothly as possible and sent some wheels so we could tour the Sunshine State in style.

Mile 0

The driver shows up and shakes his head, upset that the weather kept him from running the Traverse through the car wash before he dropped it off. I assure him that his efforts would have been wasted anyway, we’re heading right back into the rain he just drove out of.

Oh yeah. That’ll do. (Image: Anthony Karcz)

The Traverse still cuts an impressive silhouette, crouching in the driveway like massive beast of burden. The deep red (Chevy calls it Cajun Red) reminds me of my alma mater (sadly, Tallahassee isn’t part of our tour this week), and the blacked-out rims and body details are my hints that this is something above the standard Traverse.

One of these bags is excellent at human/cyborg relations. (Image: Anthony Karcz)

I note the RS badge as I activate the rear lift gate to shove our luggage and provisions in the back. At some point, I gave up trying to get everyone to pack in a single suitcase. Luckily, the Traverse has ample room for all our luggage. If I needed more, I could easily drop the full-sized third row seats for a cavernous 58 cubic feet of space (if we weren’t bringing the kids, I could drop the second row seats and eck out another 40).

The mobile equivalent of a La-Z-Boy. (Image: Anthony Karcz)

Before we get going, I settle in to the 8-way adjustable, more-comfortable-than-it-has-any-right-to be leather driver’s seat and play around with the lumbar support and seat heater.

A vast expanse of space! (Image: Anthony Karcz)

I glance in the second row and give a satisfied nod. This model is equipped with second-row captain’s chairs that are almost as comfortable. Sibling rivalry should be kept to a slow simmer for this trip.

Miles 1-150: Miami-bound

I poke my way through the intuitive 8-inch infotainment system, appreciative as always of Chevrolet’s superior touchscreen interface. After a few submenus, I find what I’m looking for. I give everyone the WiFi password and annoyed chatter precipitously drops off. My daughter resumes her YouTube binge and my son pops open his laptop to work on his computer science coursework. I’d almost be concerned about digital addiction if it weren’t so blissfully quiet.

Truly one of the best designs in auto manufacturing right now. (Image: Anthony Karcz)

“I’d be OK with something this size,” my wife says in a conciliatory tone as she settles in and looks around the cabin. We’re in the process of trying to find a replacement for our 14-year-old van.

I laugh. “That’s because it’s nearly the same size as the Odyssey!” It’s actually about 30 cubic feet less in total volume, but with its big comfy seats and walkthrough area between the second row captain’s chairs, it feels vast.

Heading out of the neighborhood, I’m impressed with how even and almost sedate the ride is. The Traverse rides like a big vehicle, but in a good way. That’s why I’m surprised when the 2.0-liter turbocharged engine (it is an RS, after all) kicks as it restarts at a stoplight. While I’ve driven the Traverse before and have always noted the start/stop fuel-saving measure, it’s never been this pronounced.

Once we get on the highway, the well-mannered Traverse eases us in and out of traffic and I settle in for the drive down to Alligator Alley and Miami beyond.

Miles 151-211: Alligator Alley

We hit the first intermittent rain squalls as we finally turn left and start to cross the state. I find myself wishing for automatic wipers as I fiddle with the controls, trying to find exactly the right tempo to keep the windshield clear. It’s a surprising feature to leave out on a vehicle that costs over $43,000.

It’s the first real complaint I’ve had with the Traverse since we hit the road. Traffic has been easier to navigate with the blind spot sensors keeping me abreast of cars that have slipped in beside me. The 10 Bose speakers are pumping out the Broadway recording of Mean Girls, streaming on Spotify via Apple CarPlay. And I’ve got Google Maps up so I can keep an eye on traffic and our ETA. It’s been a wonderfully uneventful drive.

As we drive east, there’s a spot or two where the 4G signal finally wavers, but we’re surrounded by federally protected swampland on all sides. I’d be more concerned if it didn’t. It gives the kids a break from their screens and gives them the chance to begrudgingly hunt for alligators lurking in the canals on either side of the highway.

Miles 212-238: Here Thar be Ibis

The next morning, I’m thankful for the high profile of the Traverse as we bump our way through Hollywood traffic on the way to Coral Gables. More than once, a bemused expression crosses my face as I watch someone get within inches of my bumper, realize that they’re the far smaller vehicle, and back off.

Oh your car has a rear facing camera? That’s cute. (Image: Anthony Karcz)

The handling proves to be more nimble than I expected as I pass the entrance to University of Miami and have to make a U-turn. As we ease into the tight confines of the visitor’s parking garage, I confidently ease the Traverse into a space that would make me think twice if I were driving the Odyssey. Not only is the turn radius on the Chevy impressively sharp, the on-demand front-facing parking camera helps me keep an eye on the confines of the space.

Because, in Miami traffic, easing in and out of parking spaces until you’re “just right” simply does not happen.

We pile out and head toward our first tour.

Miles 239-476: Orlando Awaits

University of Miami is everything my son hoped it would be and everything my wallet feared. With both of us obsessing over the tour for different reasons, we hit the road, find a place to have a quick cafe con leche, and queue up the directions for Orlando. Our UCF tour is tomorrow morning.

Miami traffic gives us one last smack as we spend an hour staring at brake lights – accidents on I-95 make the downtown traffic map look like someone hit an artery. Thankfully the horn is satisfyingly loud.

The WiFi signal stays strong and we make the most of the time, diving deep into 80s playlists and reminding ourselves of how flat-out weird the majority of the music from that era really was.

We finally break free of the urban sprawl and slip onto the Florida Turnpike. Traffic there is a funny thing. You’ll go for miles with steady traffic, then there will be nothing, then you’re finding yourself having to goose the engine to get around a slow-moving line of vehicles that seem to have appeared from nowhere.

(Image: Anthony Karcz)

It’s during one of these later maneuvers that I notice my wife gasps a bit each time I have to quickly accelerate. The turbocharged engine makes it easy to do, but it’s not a smooth affair. Each time I press hard on the gas, that turbo kicks in with a growl that makes it seem like I’m suddenly doing much more than increasing our speed by 5 mph for a few hundred yards.

As we ease back on to the highway after a quick rest stop (and over $30 of gas to take the cavernous tank from half empty to full), we notice cars and trucks stopped ahead, blocking both lanes of traffic. It’s an accident. A bad one if everyone’s stopped. And recent – there are only a handful of vehicles ahead of us.

We ease forward and see a black sedan wedged under the rear wheels of a tanker truck. The driver’s side door is open and there’s someone leaning down and speaking to the driver. We pass by, unable to do more than hope that the driver is the only occupant. The rest of the car is crushed.

For the rest of the trip, I double check my mirrors, crane my neck to verify my blind spots are clear, and run through a list of safety features in my head, reminding myself that creature comforts aren’t the only things to consider when choosing a vehicle.

Miles 477-541: UCF

You think it’s morning glow, but it’s really oak pollen. (Image: Anthony Karcz)

Orlando is thankfully easier to navigate than Miami. We head to UCF from Disney Springs, which turns out to be farther than I expected. Orlando is one of those cities that’s so spread out, it’s probably better to think of it as two separate towns: Disney and Orlando.

As we pass SeaWorld, I find reason to regret the WiFi connection as we get into a deep debate about ethical treatment of large aquatic animals. Most of the drive is spent listening to my son’s fingers clacking on the keyboard followed by “Well, actually…”

Yes, I know he could have easily done the same with his iPhone, but something about the desktop searching makes his info-correction session that much “extra.”

The tour is pleasant but the thing we will end up talking about the most from the day is the career advice my son got during our post-tour lunch from Chef Art Smith back at the Homecomin’ restaurant in Disney Springs (essentially: always be networking).

Miles 542-660: Heading to UF

The calm before the orange and blue storm. (Image: Anthony Karcz)

The next morning, after an evening of overeating and enjoying the awesome Captain Marvel (did you catch Kelly Sue’s cameo?), we rise early and hit the road, determined to slide in to the 11 AM tour at UF that’s been booked solid since January.

I fire up Google Maps and briefly consider using the in-car navigation. One glance at the interface, however, is enough to deter me. As wonderful as Chevrolet’s infotainment system is, they (and nearly every other car manufacturer) have lost the war when it comes to providing on-the-go directions.

Include. This. In. Every. Vehicle. Ever. (Image: Anthony Karcz)

I stick with what I know and slide my iPhone into its cubby hole behind the screen. I note, not for the first time, that if iPhones get any bigger, they’re going to have to make the space deeper.

Perfect…except for the voice control button I keep hitting by accident. (Image: Anthony Karcz)

We head north on I-75 with me engaging and disengaging the cruise as we flow with traffic. Luckily, the steering wheel buttons make it a simple affair (and, honestly, radar-enhanced cruise makes even a technophile like me nervous).

There are a few more hills as we head north, meaning we get to hear the turbo engine growl a bit more and I start keeping an eye on my MPG. Even as big as the Traverse is, I’ve managed to maintain around a 21 MPG average for the week. It’s no Prius, but when you’re hauling four people around the state in a leather-appointed mobile lounge, it’ll do.

As we pull up to the University of Florida, I think twice about the FSU shirt I have hidden away in my suitcase. Given that we’re not on the list and I see dozens of families milling about, maybe it’s better not to antagonize the admissions officers. The shirt stays packed and we make it onto the tour.

Miles 661-1,000: Wave to USF on the Way Home

We depart Gainesville and I imagine easing the wheel right instead of left as we reach the interchange, heading to Tallahassee up in the panhandle instead of going home. Walking around the University of Florida campus, I got that old-school-college feel that UM and UCF were missing. And, OK, taking a picture of my son in the stadium of our sworn rivals might have triggered me every so slightly.

If we had another couple of days of spring break, I would totally do it. The Traverse has been a reliable and easy-to-drive companion. I haven’t had to worry about… anything, really, since we hit the road. Everyone has had enough room, we’ve been able to keep ourselves entertained, and we’ve felt safe and secure the entire trip. Even the weird little tray at the bottom of the center console has proved its worth as a landing spot for all the random change I’ve accumulated at tollbooths. It’s the perfect family road trip vehicle.

That chrome looks nice, but can catch stray sunlight. Wear sunglasses! (Image: Anthony Karcz)

An hour away from Sarasota, we pass by Tampa and I think about how, if my son chooses USF over these far-flung schools, I won’t have to worry nearly as much about driving all over the state. A Camaro growls by me in the left lane, nudging me out of my reverie, and I finally connect the dots. That curious bass note I’ve been hearing whenever I punch the gas in the Traverse is an echo of the muscle car tearing by me on I-75 South. It’s an engineered bit of testosterone in what is an otherwise staid family hauler.

I might be the odd man out, but I’ll take the extra couple miles of gas mileage over the turbo boost any day.

Unpacked

When the Traverse is picked up a couple of days after we get home, I find myself a bit wistful. Before the trip, I’d expected I’d find the Traverse a perfectly capable mid-sized SUV. Despite the fact that Consumer Reports keeps dinging Chevrolet in their annual auto issues, the manufacturer is putting out some fine vehicles. What I didn’t expect was that I’d enjoy driving it so much.

The Chevrolet Traverse RS is a reliable, well-appointed, and deeply comfortable family vehicle that I’d be happy to park in my driveway anytime.

You can find out more about the Traverse on Chevrolet’s site.

Thanks to Chevrolet for providing a vehicle for this story. Opinions are my own. Go Noles.