Road trips promise freedom, friendship, and adventure. But what happens when bachurim are left to navigate on their own?

Binyamin Goldman

The hum of the rented minivan was the only sound on the long stretch of I-81, save for the occasional rustle of a bag of Ostreicher’s cookies being passed around. Yaakov leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the window, watching the familiar forests of the tristate area melt into the misty silhouettes of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Behind him, the trunk was a chaotic mountain of hats, duffle bags, frisbees, and a heavy crate of sefarim.

For the first time in months, there was no pre-seder rush, no mashgiach walking the aisles, and no intricate shiur to review. The air in the van was high-energy, with the realization that for the next few weeks, the steering wheel was entirely in their hands. Yet, as the sun began to dip behind the peaks, a subtle, unspoken weight seemed to settle over the group. They were miles away from the yeshivah walls, heading into a vast landscape where the only boundaries would be the ones they brought with them.

As they pulled into the gravel driveway of their Airbnb, the five others excitedly rushed to grab their belongings and explore their new spot, but Yaakov paused. Then he stepped out into the mountain air, the question of what this trip would look like—and who he would be by the end of it—hanging in the atmosphere.

This scene plays out for thousands of bachurim every Av. As the road trip becomes an increasingly popular staple of the bein hazmanim experience, it has sparked an animated debate among Lakewood’s parents, rabbanim, and roshei yeshivah.

 

 

 

The yeshivah environment, where the vast majority of bachurim from twelfth grade through beis medrash spend their days, is a place where they internalize a refined balance: a deep dedication to limud haTorah coupled with an elevated standard of hanhagas hachaim and middos. It’s a place where they’re afforded a home akin to a teivah, shielding them from the turbulent influences of the outside world, the relentless bombardment of hedonism, and the flashy distractions of materialism.

Yes, it’s truly a tremendous brachah that our older mesivta and beis medrash bachurim are ensconced in yeshivah all year round.

Well, perhaps not quite all year round.

We’re all aware that in the late summer, there’s a three-to-four-week period when bachurim from twelfth grade and up are free to roam. This is undoubtedly a well-deserved respite after a year of horeving over difficult sugyos; nevertheless, it remains a period spent outside the protective walls of the teivah. During this relaxed timeframe, bachurim may find themselves in a state of exuberance, and many choose to utilize the time with a balance of productivity and leisure.

But how do our young lamdanim spend their bein hazmanim days? Whether it’s securing a counselor position in a camp, joining peers on a SEED trip to be mechazek another community, signing up to one of the few post-mesivta summer programs available, or simply embarking on a road trip, parents hope that their bachurim will explore healthy outlets and review their limudim from the zman rather than wander around town in search of stimulation. Of course, anyone who has raised a bachur can attest to the near impossibility of mandating their choices, but parents at least voice their aspirations for the summer, sometimes quite vociferously.

A brief survey of local parents revealed that many of them are perfectly comfortable with the first few options. These paths seem harmless and even capable of fostering growth in areas bachurim rarely explore during the zman. Serving as a counselor can be a bachur’s initial foray into the world of chinuch or simply a lesson in leading by example—an opportunity seldom found within the routine of yeshivah. Similarly, a SEED trip can be transformative, demonstrating how effective they can be at influencing other Yidden and assisting them in their spiritual ascent. Many bachurim find this experience to be a revelation, helping them realize their intrinsic value in a world where bnei Torah may be ubiquitous in Lakewood but are exceedingly rare elsewhere.

However, that final option leaves many parents far from quiescent.

 

 

 

While a road trip with friends sounds like a pleasant outlet—an opportunity to bond, enjoy the outdoors, play some sports, and explore new landmarks—many parents lose their enthusiasm once they begin to peel back the layers.

Is that really what transpires on these excursions?

“My son struggles with time management whenever he’s home for an off-Shabbos,” a father from the Ocean Pointe neighborhood shared. “In yeshivah, he excels at following the sedarim, but when he’s on his own watch, he has difficulty differentiating between time for davening, eating, sleeping, learning, and leisure; it becomes one big mess.”

If we place this bachur in a van with his peers and send them off to North Carolina, why would anyone assume the following weeks would be marked by a healthy dose of ruchniyus maintenance and wholesome activity?

A prominent rav and rosh yeshivah from South Lakewood weighed in with his perspective. “It’s certainly true that our bachurim require a healthy outlet,” he noted. “However, there are significant changes that must be implemented. There are simply too many things that can go awry, Rachmana litzlan.”

One primary concern is that in the absence of supervision and a defined daytime structure, many bachurim resort to behaviors they wouldn’t normally dabble with in yeshivah—specifically the use of alcohol or other substances. The danger, as he has witnessed repeatedly, is the “lowest common denominator” effect, where the group’s standard is pulled down to the level of its least disciplined member. He added that when they’re in a time vacuum, the result is often aimless fooling around, which inevitably erodes the yiras Shamayim they worked so hard to cultivate during the zman.

Furthermore, the technological landscape has shifted. Today, virtually every hotel and Airbnb is equipped with a large smart TV—a far more alluring and exposing gateway than the limited channel-flipping boxes most Lakewood parents encountered in their youth. In many cases, he argued, they can easily access the internet and highly questionable material. Within a framework that isn’t actively growth oriented, the slip is easy.

“The group often resorts to watching material that one individual labels ‘kosher’ because of some past experience,” he says. “No one wants to be the killjoy, so everyone joins in. Before you know it, they have spent two weeks lowering their madreigos inch by inch.”

 

 

 

 

To gain the perspective of the bachurim themselves, I reached out to several individuals to ask what actually transpires on these trips. Zevi L., a 19-year-old from the Pine Lake Park neighborhood in Manchester, shared his experience of a five-day journey following this past Pesach bein hazmanim.

“We borrowed my father’s car and drove to the Washington, DC area for the week,” Zevi recalled. “It was just me and three other guys staying in a hotel.” Zevi noted that while two of them were from the same yeshivah, the other two represented a different institution.

I asked Zevi point-blank if there were any temptations to engage in activities they would normally avoid. His answer was remarkably succinct. “To be honest, I smoked a bunch of cigarettes over the week, and I never really smoke during the zman,” he admitted. “But that happens every bein hazmanim, so I don’t see why that’s such a big deal.”

And regarding the looming shadow of technology? “We didn’t touch the screen,” Zevi stated firmly. “The other two guys are big sports fans, and they wanted to put something on one night, but my friend and I told them we didn’t want to go down that rabbit hole. They respected our decision, and the TV remained off the entire trip.”

Zevi clarified that they managed to avoid most pitfalls because they had established a rigorous itinerary before leaving Lakewood. “We had specific historical sites and activities mapped out for every day. We were also very strict about 7:00 a.m. Shacharis at the local Chabad, followed by an hour-and-a-half seder. For meals, we either ate out or enjoyed some Tradition soups on the hotel porch. We stayed busy. And if we had downtime, there was a pool table downstairs that kept us occupied most nights.”

It appears that Zevi and his crew were a balanced, self-respecting group that took their time management—and perhaps a healthy hint of inter-yeshivah peer pressure—seriously.

I asked if they had encountered any friction during the week. “Yes,” Zevi replied. “There was one heated moment. The guy who did most of the planning really wanted to visit the Lincoln Memorial, but the rest of us realized it would be long and boring. It got a little intense, but we eventually handled it and moved on with the plan.”

Zevi’s account felt straightforward, and the Tradition soup reference brought a smile to my face—a nostalgic reminder that some things in the yeshivah bachur world simply never change. The minor skirmish they experienced seemed like a typical growing pain, the kind of social friction that can lead to greater maturation.

The next account I received, however, was a little different.

Moshe Dovid G., from the 14th Street area, was disappointed by the getaway he took this past summer with a group of 12 other guys. He explains that they rented a large Airbnb in Phoenix; since they all knew each other from their mesivta years, he figured it would be a perfect opportunity to reconvene and reminisce before they returned to their respective batei medrash.

“It was a two-and-a-half-week trip, and the house was loaded,” Moshe Dovid recalls. “We had a large pool, gaming machines, a ping-pong table, and a hot tub.” There is, of course, a staggering amount to see in that region—from the majestic Grand Canyon to the iconic red rocks of Sedona and the breathtaking Horseshoe Bend.

Moshe Dovid was sure his old crew would be as enthusiastic as he was to explore. However, it took only three days to realize that his expectations would not be met. Because they had only rented three cars, any outing had to be carefully calculated to ensure no one was left stranded at the Airbnb. Without a clear itinerary established beforehand, the group’s dynamic became disjointed almost immediately.

When some of the boys suggested a trek to the Grand Canyon on the first day, there was instant pushback. “We just got here last night,” one of them argued. “We can do that any day over the next two weeks. Let’s do something local.”

Moshe Dovid was deflated when the group settled on a nearby bowling alley. There was no scenic drive, no sense of adventure, and its proximity to the house left a lot of dead time. Initially, Moshe Dovid and his friends used the opportunity to enjoy the pool and the house amenities, but the same stagnant schedule repeated itself the next day, and the day after that. It wasn’t until the fourth day that the group agreed to drive to Sedona to see the famous red rocks, and even that was a struggle to coordinate, despite it being only half the distance of the Grand Canyon. It was then that Moshe Dovid realized he was unlikely to see the Grand Canyon on this trip.

Beyond the inability to reach a consensus on activities—which led to frequent arguments and simmering frustration—Moshe Dovid observed an increasing number of guys who were perfectly content to simply sit around the house. They spent hours obsessively playing the gaming machines or foosball and schmoozing on the porch about hock from back in town, barely even stepping out to bask in the desert sun.

Even more concerning was the spiritual drift. Despite these being bachurim from a high-caliber yeshivah, no one felt the need to agree on a set location for Shacharis or, more importantly, a designated seder for learning. It was self-understood that everyone would figure it out on their own. “The reality,” Moshe Dovid says, “was that there wasn’t much learning at all, and only a handful of guys were waking up in time for the local minyan.”

 

 

 

 

Though they were a more yeshivish crew and operated under an unspoken agreement not to touch the screens in the house, the lack of structure eventually took its toll. During the final few days, a small group began watching a seemingly benign news program in the wee hours of the morning.

“It wasn’t inappropriate material, but it was something we had never done together—sitting around a screen and getting passionate about the opinions of the political talking heads,” Moshe Dovid admits. “We all felt a bit low afterward.” He later learned that in another room, some of his peers had watched something a bit less innocuous.

I figured I’d ask him if there were any alcohol issues as well. “Some guys brought beers for the few nights that we did barbecues, but that was all. They got a little tipsy, though.”

From these accounts, it appears that the success of a road trip depends on the specific group: their level of maturity, their ability to plan ahead, and their commitment to maintaining a consistent schedule for davening and learning.

Rabbi Eli Klein, director of Camp Matziv Midwest, explains why the aforementioned Arizona trip is not the outlier in this conversation. “The problem is that in many circles, it recently became a shtick to intentionally be disorganized on these trips,” he says, having discussed the issue with multiple bachurim—many of whom ultimately chose to be counselors at his camp. “When guys do an organized trip with a full itinerary, the chevrah back in yeshivah often poke fun at them, saying that they didn’t do the real chill, which is to just be carefree in some random house out in the boondocks for three weeks. That’s the real geshmak.”

He adds, “And of course, the drinking issue is a growing problem. If the whole goal is to be as laid back as possible, then the obvious next step is breaking boundaries. I’ve heard many stories of guys getting absolutely hooked, unfortunately.”

I spoke with a first-year beis medrash rebbe who stated emphatically that road trips must either be completely restructured or categorically discouraged by parents and morei derech. He offered several specific recommendations to mitigate the risks.

First and foremost, he insisted that a yungerman must accompany the group to serve as a mashgiach ruchani. This individual would ensure that learning and davening occur at the proper times and would hold the final authority on all activities, thereby neutralizing the risk of internal strife. Furthermore, he would serve as a guardian to ensure that no impurity permeates the house via the foreboding screens on the walls.

The rebbe also recommended that if a group is situated far from a shul, they should rent an additional house or at least a sizable room dedicated exclusively to minyan and learning sedarim. He argued that the distinction between “chilling” and ruchniyus must remain clear; otherwise, bachurim may find themselves davening in T-shirts and slides or learning in their bathrobes, potentially leading to a diminishing of their respect for Torah and tefillah.

But wouldn’t renting a larger property and potentially compensating a yungerman for his time make these trips unaffordable for many families? “That’s true,” the rebbe conceded, “but without these guardrails, road trips shouldn’t be happening. Period.”

He added another issue with these trips: The social process of deciding who’s included in a specific group is often devastating and can form cliques, a reality he believes is best avoided entirely by choosing a different path for the summer.

 

 

One rav from Jackson, however, offered a more nuanced approach. When I shared the concerns voiced by other rabbanim, he remarked, “I certainly agree that there are many potential pitfalls. And I like some of their suggestions. However, in my opinion, rebbeim and roshei yeshivah must recognize that the entire population of bachurim in Lakewood doesn’t consist solely of Shevet Levi—those whom the Rambam describes as being capable of devoting themselves 100 percent to learning while remaining constantly on an elevated plane.”

He continued, “The reality is that our system aims to produce as many bnei Torah as possible, with the hope that those who excel will continue to learn in kollel for decades and become gedolim in their own right. But we must remember that not every 19- or 20-year-old is currently at that level.”

The rav explained that we need to provide options that work for the bachurim that need an independent break; simply banning road trips or micromanaging them is not a universal solution. While we can certainly express a preference for safer options, we must also acknowledge that there must be ways for them to engage in the activities they desire.

“Unless you keep them in a yeshivah-run camp for the entire summer,” he concluded, “you can’t expect them to only do what you want them to do during their free time. That’s why my solution is to encourage them to do things the right way by giving them guidance on how to properly plan a road trip with the right guardrails and detailed itinerary.”

Essentially, he was suggesting that the way to achieve the proper balance revolves around parental awareness of where the pitfalls lie. If the bachurim are clued in to what might go wrong and are given the responsibility weeks in advance to prepare, they can meet the moment with a plan of action. When handled this way, a road trip can truly result in an experience that’s both exhilarating and refreshing, allowing them to head into the next zman, a new sugya, or even their upcoming shanah rishonah with a matured sense of responsibility and healthy time management.

One mother of a 20-year-old bachur offered her two cents as well, echoing this rav’s words rather pointedly: “I’d much rather we teach them the skills they will soon need for marriage than try to dictate their every move with a wagging finger.”

So, recognizing the shifting nature of modern-day road trips and the challenges they bring to the table, there appear to be varying approaches among the leading mechanchim. Should they be categorically banned? Should they only be permitted with specific modifications? Or should our bachurim be treated like the young men they are and simply be advised and primed in advance on how to make their trip a success?

Which mehalech will ultimately prevail is a story yet to be told. The conclusion may vary from yeshivah to yeshivah and from neighborhood to neighborhood, but one thing remains certain: awareness of what’s at stake and making the proper considerations before agreeing to a potential trip is undoubtedly advisable for parents and bachurim alike.