Six hours is a lot of time.

You can watch six episodes of Law & Order (SVU, Criminal Intent or just good ole plain Law & Order), listen to a punk album 22 times, get a full night’s rest or get a full day of partying in.

But six hours in a car? No fun.

I was faced with the daunting task of filling six hours of car-time Tuesday when a photographer from The Daily Eastern News and I headed to Cookeville, Tenn., to watch the Eastern men’s basketball team take on Tennessee Tech in the first round of the Ohio Valley Conference Tournament.

While the sports writer in me (not literally) would use this space to talk about the game, the miserable, cranky rest of me wants to talk about the car ride.

There was a point when car trips were fun, where a deck of playing cards, a few magazines and Travel Guess Who? kept me more than entertained.

But now I’m a man of sophisticated wants and needs, and I need a better way to handle a six-hour long road trip.

My first gripe about riding in a car took me by surprise. I found out that I can no longer sleep in a car.

Now I know what you’re thinking: how could I pass up the chance to see the beautiful scenery of southern Illinois, western Kentucky and central Tennessee?

Well, to be honest, scenery doesn’t do it for me. I’ve seen hills, trees, rest areas and Hardees before. I wanted a nap.

But when I reclined the passenger seat all the way back and bundled my coat like a pillow, I couldn’t quite get there.

I’d start to nod off, and the road would get bumpy, throwing me around worse than the Shock Wave at Six Flags Great America. When I wasn’t being jostled, I was being blown away by how bad music on the radio is.

The problem is radio stations no longer have an identity.

There’s nothing quite like sitting through a three-song set of “today’s hits and yesterday’s classics” that includes 50 Cent, Kelly Clarkson and Lionel Richie. (Five minutes after typing this, I heard Ludacris, Destiny’s Child and Maroon 5 – which of the three hasn’t won a Source Award?)

Seriously, one station went from Outkast to what I can only assume was Ryan Cabrera (that handsome devil).

Speaking of Clarkson, have people forgot she won American Idol to get her “break?” Who likes her? (If by chance, you’re reading this Kelly, I’m sorry baby. I’ll still “Breakaway” with you.)

Whatever happened to having a format for your station and sticking to it?

Like if you decide to play the worst rock of the ’80s, you better offer me up the Scorpions, Ratt or Warrant – and you better give it to me hourly.

Speaking of “Cherry Pie,” the amount of new music that isn’t any good at all is staggering.

Either it’s an ultra-sensitive guy with a starring role on the WB singing or it’s the theme song from a show on the WB, and both ways remind me of my dark, little secret (watching One Tree Hill…shhh).

Plus, I’m convinced that every 60 miles, when one station comes and goes, the next one picked up is playing the same five songs I just complained about hearing.

It’s just plain bad.

Between all the bad radio and not being able to sleep, what am I to do?

The answer, sadly, is to never ride in a car again – unless I’m feeling lazy, it’s cold, rainy or windy, and if you’re offering a ride and have the room.

Because what am I going to do, walk everywhere?

That’s crazy talk.