Day 9 – NV, CA

Day 9 -- Leaving Las Vegas. The daytime personality of Las Vegas is quite a contrast from the nighttime one. As you drive by the casinos during the day they look like misplaced toys in a spoiled child’s bedroom. At night I love the stunning tackiness which is at once obnoxious and alluring. It’s fun to allow yourself to be sucked in while you stand there aware that sucking you in is exactly when the whole environment is designed to do just that. I couldn't believe that I was tempted to stop on the way out of Nevada at one of these massive grotesque casinos-in-the-middle-of-nowhere to gamble. You know just once I’d like to hit a small jackpot. Maybe $1,200 or something like that. Just to feel like I could walk a ONCE with a lot more than I walked in with.

The drive down from southern Utah to Nevada to California gives you a perspective of what and where southern California is than I have never had in a lifetime of watching movies and television. Nothing can replace the feel of actually being there. You drive through a major decent from Utah to Arizona to Nevada and then again about 60-70 miles from Los Angeles as you drive thought another huge decent into the San Fernando Valley. I don’t get how you drive down out of the desert into a valley. I always think of deserts as being the bottom of valleys, but what do I know. So it is educational, but not particularly beautiful by comparison. Had I flown to Vegas and driven down to Los Angeles, I’m sure I would have found it stunning.

The L.A. freeways. Everything you’ve heard and much worse. And I never slowed down the whole way into Van Nuys. I’m as used to driving in traffic as you can get (as a Midwesterner) but it is still really stressful to drive fifty miles at 75-80mph across six lane freeways with fast moving traffic all around you. But I survived nicely and found Phil and Cindy’s house. They are my lifelong friends whom I rarely get to see and who treat me like a celebrity. As comfortable as I am with them (And have always been), it felt strange to “arrive”. The journey was wonderful.

Since my encounters with strangers were nil today, I’ll explain the “Tubby” incident. Many of you have heard it. It happened in Rocky Mountain National Park. My son Rob and I had flown into Denver to drive up to visit my brother and sister-in-law, Jerry and Cheryl. We arrived early and had to kill the day while Jerry and Cheryl were at work. So we headed from Boulder and spent about 17 minutes there before we were bored and ready to move on. I suggested we drive up to Estes Park and on up Trailridge road – which as you probably know is the highest paved road in the country. It was an inferno in the foothills; about 95F and no wind. But at 12,000 ft the temp had dropped to 62F and with the bright sun it felt great. We parked at the store and visitor’s center and got out. I was struggling with the altitude and sun and was very lightheaded – my medicines were not getting it done that day. It was difficult to stand and walk and I could barely see.

So I struggle over to a bench and sit. Rob says "I'll be back in a minute" and heads over to the hundred or so steps that actually take to up to 12,000 ft exactly (really 12,006). Within what seemed like a minute he was standing next to me. Wow! that was fast. – Now remember, I was feeling like shit and really cranky. – I saw a pudgy college kid with a Penn State hoodie on and I said “Why don’t you race Tubby over there? I bet you could go up back twice before he gets to the top.” I said some other uncharitable things about Tubby – he was out of earshot of course. After a moment’s pause, a college kid in a Michigan State T-shirt is standing next to me and says ”I don’t appreciate you calling my cousin Tubby. Why don’t you shut your mouth?” I stared at him in disbelief. In my youth I would have been scared and apologized. After all, I was the asshole in this little theatre. But in my advanced years and cranky mood, I fought back every urge to say “Well fuck you and your tubby cousin too!” The kid started walking away and the best I could muster was “Well excuse the hell outta me.” He told me to shut my mouth. All the while Rob is thinking, I wish this crazy old man would shut up before we get our asses kicked. By now the kid is talking to Tubby and they’re looking back over at me pointing. There’s four of them. I stare them down. Bring it on, punks! Remember I’m a sixty year old man who has a bi ventricular pacemaker, autonomic failure and can barley stand. And I’m staring them down! Rob must be dying by now. Well the bunch of pussies walked away. Rob and I laughed – not at them, at me and my incredibly brazen stupidity.

I guess I think I’m invincible because I can always say “Are you going to hit a sixty year old man with a pacemaker?” Hope I don’t find someone who answers yes to that.

Day 8 -- UT, AZ, NV

Day 8 -- Tree Huggers! Zion was full of them. You know, serious outdoorsmen (and women). -- As I embark on this mini tirade let me say that I love being annoyed by people. Criticizing them just gives me a warm and fuzzy feeling inside. -- As I parked at the Zion Visitor Center I looked around and huggers were everywhere. Where else would they be? They are easily identifiable in their wide brin sun repellent hats, back packs, fanny packs, hiking boots with heavy socks and shorts and that ultimate fashion accessory -- the walking stick. Why the hell you need a walking stick to hike a paved trail is beyond me -- oh, yeah. Duh! To look like a hiker! One old man had a small tree truck and was moving at a glacial pace AND receiving compliments on this hiking implement. "Now that's a walking stick." I'll give you a walking stick . . .

But my most beloved part of the uniform is the hat. I get that you want to keep the sun off your neck and stay cool, but I know something about being vulnerable to the heat -- with blood pressure so low you could slip it under the door, a shaved head and no functioning sweat glands -- I can tell you that a ball cap works just fine. The instant I see those hats I think of what Tony (my dad) would have said: "I wish I had two of those hats. One to shit in and the other to cover it up with."

Now that I've bashed them let me say that huggers are in great shape and despite their know-it-all attitude (Can you image these people running the courty? We'd be straving and broke. But, I know, they counter balance the corporate polluters, etc.) they are great for people watching. Not one obese person in sight. They are courteous as hell too. SO despite my critique, I like huggers.

Zion National Park was fabulous. Actual shuttles take you into the canyon and drop you off at the trail heads and stuff, and come by every six minutes. Just like Disney World. It was great. I did a ton of hiking until I ran completely out of gas. I walked around 12,000 steps yesterday -- about 6 miles. I got some good pictures but I messed up a bunch of them. I'll do better next time. I thought it was infinitely superior to Yellowstone. Oh yes, two Canadian women spoke to me. That's right, my stranger-encounter of the day was initiated by the stranger.

Exhausted, I made it back to the car and stripped of my vest and t-shirt and shoes and socks -- not all at once -- and put on flip flops and a muscle shirt for the drive to Vegas. Speaking of clothes, I have a confession. In my REI Titanium sunproof multi-pocket vest and Nike cross coutry shoes I was dangerously close to looking like a huggers myself! Of course, a COOL hugger. -- I cruised out of Utah and was surprised to go through the corner of Arizona. LAs Vegas was now very close.

My motel in Vegas is miles from the strip and the area looks perfectly normal (non-Las Vegas like, that is). After falling asleep for a while I hauled my dragging ass outside at 10:30 and headed down Las Vegas Blvd. Not as tacky as I remember it, although I only went as far south as The Mirage where I pulled in. I stumbled into the first restaurant I saw in the casino, and wonder of wonders, it was a California Pizza Kitchen. Aw, something familiar. I ate a pizza. Then I was compelled to lose some money; so I did. It was entirely unsatisfying. And, oh yes, people watching. The World's Capital.

So I've driven 3000 miles. Been through ten states (two of them for the first time) and am still lovin' it. Tomorrow, California! By the way, I thought I would probably lose weight because I wouldn't be snacking at night, and I didn't realize how active I would be. I just weighed myself, after breakfast, with my clothes on. The scale must be wrong (it was one of those balance beam things like doctors use.) I was down twenty pounds!

Day 7 -- ID, UT

Scene of the "Tubby" incident.

Day 7 -- St. George, Utah. A small picturesque Mormon community that is Utah's southernmost city. Winter home of Utah's most famous, and first, snow bunny. Brigham Young himself. Why is there a huge D on the side of the mountain in St. George? If you know this, you're scaring me. I did the walking tour of downtown including the sparsely attended street fair on Main Street. After a good walk I was hungry and tired so I went to the first place that looked passable -- oh, if I had only walked 50 more feet! An aside: When Kathy (Mrs. B II) and I moved to Columbus, Chris was helping us move. At lunchtime I set out to find lunch. Having no clue what was around I started driving and went through several major intersections and saw nothing. At the next light I saw a White Castle. Ugh! But what if there's nothing else for miles? So did I buy a bag full of greasy sliders -- White Castle renowned trademark "sandwich"? No, no. I bought regular size burgers and fries. Purely awful and to this day I have never eaten at White Castle. What does this have to do with St. George? Well if I had driven to the next intersection there were many places to eat. -- So tonight I stoped short again and went into the Pizza Factory, eschewing the Pasta Factory next door. I was seated next to the kitchen so I asked to be moved. The young lady took me up a half flight of stairs and I sat down. I noticed children screaming. In my haze I said this was fine and eventually turned around to see that I was alone with a birthday party for a five year old and several other large parties. I did a quick polygamist check and there seemed to be four mothers and four fathers at the bd party. My waitress was sweet -- I charmed her of course -- and the meal was fine. On the way out I noticed a lovely patio with all adults at the Pasta Factory!

I was walking back to the motel and a couple on the corner kept saying something to me. When I got close the guy said "O-H" three times. What the hell? He said "You're supposed to say "I-O". You see I was wearing my block O hat and they spotted it down the street. They were from Columbus. Chalk up two more stangers met. -- My other conversation with a stranger today was at a rest stop where a normal looking guy tried to bum money from me! I declined.

Today I drove from Pocatello to St. George, almost 500 miles. I skipped Bryce Canyon but I am going to Zion Nat'l Park tomorrow. Then on to Vegas! It was 47F when I left Pocatello and 88F when I got to St. George. It is really, really nice here.

I passed though SLC and Provo which brought to mind another Jim dumb-shit move. My team at ProQuest had bought a company in Provo (genealogy of course) and three female colleagues and I flew into SLC to drive to Provo and introduce ourselves to our new employees. For whatever reason, the three women rode together in a gray Ford Escape and I drove alone in some kind on Monster truck, an Excursion I think. I guess they had ridden with me before. I said I wasn't 100% sure of the directions, so I would follow them. As we left the airport, I was multi-tasking (Probably why I was riding alone.) and when I looked up there were two identical gray Ford Escapes in front of me. No problem. They have to be in the one closest to me. So I continued to fart around with the satellite radio and change lanes to stay behind them. The changed lanes a lot I thought. As we approached an exit, without signaling they swerved off to the exit. I thought, "What the hell are they doing? Stopping to eat?" They turned in the opposite direction of the restaurants that I could see. "What is this?" They turned into a trailer park. Now I am baffled. Do they have "kin" here? They pull into a driveway and stop the car and sit still. Finally, the light bulb goes on for Jimmy Boy and I realize what you figured out long ago -- I followed the wrong car! They thought I was stalking them! I sheepishly drove off laughing my ass off at my own absentmindedness.

I leave you with this. My kids and friends know I am a grammar and syntax snob even though mine is not so great. I go nuclear over: "May I help who's next in line?" (This is wrong for so many reasons and I can't enumerate them.); "That'll be $3.79 at the first window?" (How much is it at the second window?); and "I'll be your lead flight attendant." (Who's our lead flight attendant right now?) Today I heard this gem: "If you're self-employed or an individual . . ." Hmm. I guess some of us aren't individuals.

The D stands for Dixie. As in "I wish I were in the land of cotton."

Day 6 -- WY, ID

Day 6 -- What a difference a day makes. New day. New attitude. New rationalization.

I slept only four hours so I was up early. I hit the road with calm acceptance that I could do this and that it would take me three hours plus to get back to West Yellowstone. I did and I was oh so mellow the whole way. And while taking a break at Old Faithful -- didn't stay for the show this time -- I saw a man with GVSU on his sweatshirt. And wonder of wonders, I spoke to him and his wife. I asked if they were from Grand Rapids and I told them I have a daughter who's a senior at Grand Valley (State University). We talked quite a bit about our travels and I found out they were traveling back the way I had come. It was pretty cold in Yellowstone and I had shorts on; in fact it was down to 34F at the highest point of the drive. I think it's pretty reasonable to visit Yellowstone twice in one's lifetime. In my case twice was on consequitive days.

So I reached West Yellowstone and headed south -- noticing that there was a Best Western motel right there in town. You know, the same kind of motel I drove and extra 110 miles for! There was an immediate improvement in the roads and I was back to high speed cruisin'. From there I reached and passed through Idaho Falls pretty quickly and came to rest in Pocatello, where I sit at this moment. I spent about 7 hours getting here -- six of it driving -- but I was determined to play golf. I had Tom Tom (protable GPS system) take me to the nearest golf corse but little Tommy got lost. So I stumbled upon the Pocatello visitor's center. Bear in mind that I had already passed my hotel at the north end of town and was clear in the southern end of town. The very friendly lady sent me back to the north end right by my hotel to the golf course that you can see but that has no entrance. After 15 minutes of driving around the damn thing, I drove into the Pocatello High School parking lot and interrupted two kids who were making out and asked them. With their help I found the secret passage way and played 18 holes. What a glorious day! Sunny and cool. Rolling hills, beatuiful green grass and mild profanity wafting from my lips. It was wonderful.

You may be wondering, did Jimmy Boy do something stupid today. Oh, yes. I never dissapoint. Forgetfulness. The scourge of every traveler. I didn't mention back on Day 2 that I left a library book and 12 DVD's in the room, did I? Naw, too embarassing. Since then I have tried to be very circumspect about checking and re-checking each morning when I take off. Today's leave-behind was my computer power cord. Pretty essential to my new career as a blogger. (I can't believe I just said that!) Of course, there's Rule No. 3 -- They have Stores. I called Radio Shack immediately and they came through -- for a mere $127. Bet I'll look closely tomorrow morning.

I've decided that Bryce Canyon in off the agenda for now. The directions say that there are 225 miles of two lane roads and I've had enough of them for the moment. So it's 8 hours of driving to St. George, UT tomorrow. And Zion National Park the next day. Then Vegas and LA!

I have a "Jim Traveling In Utah" story for tomorrow that many of you have heard.

Day 5 -- MT, WY

Day 5 -- The day from Hell! I did something really stupid -- a real Jim Barcelona dumb move; but, what the hell, it's all part of the adventure. We'll get to that.

Southern Montana below Billings is very picturesque and great for high speed cruising. There's a little more traffic than in North Dakota, but you can lead the pack all the way if you want to. Right before I turned of toward Yellowstone, I stopped in Bozeman. Yes, Chris K., I was picturing you there. College towns are great. I can't lie and say it felt like Ann Arbor or Charlottesville, but it was a universe away from Billings. Lots of interesting places to eat and buy stuff. I saw some Montana State gear in the window of a store and as I entered my eyes went straight to the shoes. For an obsessive shopper like me there are certain visual keys that you can see in your peripheral vision that suck you in like a vortex. For example, in any department store in the country I can spot every rack with a Sale sign on it from 100 feet away. So I saw some cool shoes. And what made them cool is that I haven't seen them in Michigan or Ohio. So I bought some all terrain running shoes. Yeah, like I could run ten feet! No matter. They look good when traveling through the west. I did however resist dropping 27 bucks on an Under Armour brand hat with the Montana State Bobcats logo on it.

I ate a tasty sandwich at a deli in Bozeman and read the paper. I was content. As i left, I drove up the street through the campus and down the road to Yellowstone. After what seemed like a very few miles I was in national forests and it was very attractive country. Of course the drive is slowed by two lane roads but who cares?

I made it to West Yellowstone, MT and walked around a bit and thought that I should find a place to stay instead of in Cody, WY which was on the other side (east of) Yellowstone. Now here's where a typical Barcelona pickiness turned out to be painful. I thought "No, I don't want to stay here it's too back woodsy. Probably no Internet connection." Dum, dah, dum dum.

So I drove up to the park entrance and saw that senior passes to all parks were $10; as opposed to $80 for youngsters. I quickly found out that I'm just a kid since I under 62. So I plopped down my $25 and drove in. I had no clue what there was to see beside Old Faithful, so I stopped to read the map and newspaper they had given me. I found out Old Faithful was 16 miles away and it erupts on average every 93 minutes, so let's see it. My timing was good. According to a had written sign it would erupt again at 4:13pm plus or minus ten minutes. It was 3:55pm. I walked over and sat down. By the way, there are hot springs and steam rising from the ground all over that part of Yellowstone. It was a sunny but chilly day and it felt good. At 4:10 there she went and it was pretty interesting, not spectacular, but interesting. No announcement, no speech from a ranger, just did its thing.

Where to next? Well, I didn't sleep well the night before and I was really tired. So let's get out of here. I was still aware that Cody was east of the park, but the maps I had made it appear to be not too far out of the way. So I headed around Yellowstone Lake toward the east exit. After ten or twelve miles the voice in my head was screaming "Turn back! You're going the wrong way." But I thought, I know what lies behind, maybe is smoother sailing ahead. So far, one bad decision -- heading east. Once around the lake it appeared that I was closer to the east exit than the west so I was committed. Mind you, the speed limit is 45 and you can't go 45. Next bad decision -- assuming Cody was about 5 miles outside the park. When I finally got through the mountains -- I about shit as I saw the frosty warning light come on and the temp drop to 37F -- and made it out. i saw the sign -- Cody 53 miles. I could have puked.

So here I sit, 106 miles and three hours from the west entrance to the park with no way south or west without --you guessed it -- driving back through the damn thing! I may punch out a bison just to show then I've had enough of this place. But, what the hell, it's an adventure.

Just a thought to those of you who know about my outbursts of road rage. I only gave one tree hugger the finger today. And finally, dinner from the buffet at the Sunset House in Cody was a feast in brown gravy.

Day 4 -- North Dakota, Montana

Day 4 - A thousand pardons to the State of North Dakota and its people for saying it was nondescript. The western edge starting about 30 miles from Montana is spectacular. There is a painted canyon along I-94 that is Sedona-esk. Unfortunately the weather was very strange -- cold, windy and rainy. As I mentioned yesterday the temp hit 90F while I was driving -- this morning 42F! My worst fear on this trip is that I will hit snow and be stuck because I have high speed performance tires that cannot handle snow at all. I checked the weather in all the places on my itinerary before I left and it seemed fine, but anything can happen. The weather was so crappy that I had to drive at 70 mph for while. By the way, I have not seen a single state trooper in ND or MT. You know that I am the king of speeding tickets, with all respect to my eldest daughter who has surpassed me without looking in her rear view mirror so hope I didn't just jinx myself. I was passed by a Porsche Carerra today -- I resisted the urge to race him.

I haven't done anything stupid today but I did fail to meet or speak to any stranger except waiters, clerks, etc. And boy did I blow the opportunity of a lifetime -- or at least of this trip! I was eating a magnificent bacon cheeseburger (no fries) at the exquisite Forsyth, MT Dairy Queen when Pecos Bill's great uncle walked in. He was about 5'5", lean and weathered, about 70 years old, his hands looked like he had worked with them everyday of his life. He wore filthy jeans held up by leather suspenders, a dirty frayed flannel shirt with patches sown on the sleeves, a neckerchief and a black mountain man hat. He had a full gray beard, glasses, a walking stick and a pronounced limp. And of course he smiled and said hello. Why, oh why didn't I ask him if I could take his picture? And his ride -- an old Ford 150 that had been ridden hard and put away wet. Damn, I wish I would have spoken to him. I gave some thought to achieving my goal of talking to a stranger by asking the guy next to me at the bar at dinner if he lived in Montana, but that would have been the woosy way to make my goal. Once you pass on Pecos Bill's great uncle, you just hang your head and except your failure.

Downtown Billings is sort of like downtown Ft. Wayne except there are less cowboys in Ft. Wayne. In either city you could roll a bowling ball down main street at 7:00pm and never hit anything. They have no nightlife; they have still life.

I still love this trip. No doubt my high spirits are making me feel better and even though I seem to spend most of the day in the car, I am walking more than I do at home -- you know, when I'm bored and lethargic. Today"s step count: 8,200! More than 4 miles. And -- drum roll -- I hiked up a trail at a rest stop that was maybe 1/4 of a mile and fairly steep and I didn't get lightheaded . . . I almost threw up my milkshake but I didn't get lightheaded!

Day 3

Day 3 – Eighty-five degrees and sunny in Bismarck on September 23. Who knew? So, no golf. Did you know that North Dakota is the least visited State in the Union? The realization is sinking in. The concept of the Great Plains is really obvious. I will say that the Kirkwood Mall in Bismarck is much nicer than that place in Minnesota. I ate at the Grizzly Bar and Grille – some kind of pasta casserole. Very filling.

I’ve haven’t done anything stupid yet today. I tried to drive through downtown Fargo but my Tom Tom got lost, so I headed for the highway. Just set the cruise on 85 and ate up the miles. I’m about through with an audio book called Just One Look by Harlen Coben. The characters are interesting and you can follow the many threads of the plot but of course the resolution seems like it was tacked on after the story was written. I don’t recommend it.

Although I haven’t done anything stupid today, I do have anecdotes. One is on my list of most embarrassing moments. I was on business in Milan, Italy with an English colleague. We had a small subsidiary in Milan and we were visiting our lawyer because we needed to fire our local GM because he was giving bribes – a common practice in Italian business but none the less a problem for a small American firm with a six person subsidiary in Milan. Just for those of you from Cincinnati, our local GM, an Italian of course, went to high school at Cincinnati Moeller.
Our lawyer was a short man named Giancarlo something-or-other-ending-in-a vowel. He was with Baker & McKenzie the huge international firm. Of course, I’m feeling very cosmopolitan. You know -- big shot American in his Armani suit and Hermes tie. Okay, I was wearing off the rack stuff. So, we’re in Giancarlo's office talking about the difficulties of firing a GM in Italy and Giancarlo stops; looks at me; and says “Your zipper is down.” Yeah, Big Shot!

Damn, just realized that I crossed another time zone. All the more time in Dickinson, ND. Closing in on the Montana border. I’d have to say that although ND is very nondescript, it’s still somehow compelling. Very relaxing to drive through such wide open spaces.
After three days, I absolutely love this trip. The weather has been astonishingly beautiful and hotter than hell. It hit 90 while I was driving today. Should be cooler tomorrow. I still have not spoken to anyone who was not waiting on me in a store or restaurant. Tomorrow I vow to talk with a stranger.

Day 2

Day 2 – Rule 3 – “They have stores.” Funny thing about traveling is no matter what you forget you can buy it on the road. Yesterday while strolling around a rest area to get some exercise, I cursed myself for not bringing my pedometer. If I had it I could make sure I walk at least 3000-4000 steps per day. Although not the 10,000 steps that is popular target these days, it is better than sitting all day. Then I realized Rule 3 – I can buy one. After all, where the hell am I stopping today? – Mall of America. Think they might have one?
Duh! So while on my way to the Mall of America – just sounds grotesque doesn’t it? – I notice some gorgeous dairy farms and such along the Wisconsin byway. So like a good little I-don’t-have-to-stay-on-the-interstate kind of guy I am, I pull off and look for a good photo opportunity. The countryside is beautiful; the weather is perfect. What could go wrong? Nothing much so far. Well, my digital camera was making a funny sound and it was so bright I couldn’t read the viewer. But something is not working. So, I move on. I passed a wonderful sight – a nice red barn the said "Top Shelf Genetics" across the barn door. Hmm. Wonder what bottom shelf genetics produce?
At last the Mall of America. What a perfect match for my shopping addiction. Not so fast! Once I got inside, I went up to the third level (of four) and bought a pedometer which I immediately opened with my knife (this is a key point in the story) and put it on my belt. I continued around the place until I had a bird’s eye view of the amusement park in the center and tried to take a picture – “Memory Card Full.” Aha! What to do. Wait until tonight and download to my laptop and erase the card? No! Rule # 3! They have stores. So I walk into Ritz Camera and for six bucks they download the memory card to a disc which will be ready in half an hour. So I start walking the circumference of each level. I buy my 997th pair of reading glasses and pick up the disk. Now I want the hell outta there. I walk around the entirefuckingplace and find my car.
I reach in my pocket; and my other pocket; and my other pocket. You’re shitting me! No keys! – You know one thing you can count on is that I will do at least one really stupid thing per trip. – OK, I left them in the camera store. No, wait. The KNIFE. It’s on my keychain. I sat them down when I opened the pedometer package. So I return to the spot. Of course, no keys. Then a miracle! I check at the store and someone has turned them in to mall security. Whoever you are, I love you! I walk for another hour and a half and find the customer service window and there they are!
I left the Mall from Hell having walked 7,000 steps – 3.5 miles! In fact, as I sit here now, I have walked over 10,000 steps today. My highest total ever! And may I say that if you have ever been to a mall and an amusement park, do not go to the Mall of America.
Now I am in Fargo. I have seen many people here, but no sign of Frances McDormond or William H. Macy. In fact the area of town I am in looks like it could be in the suburbs of any large city. Maybe it’s weirder in the winter.
Tomorrow I golf!

On the Road 2007

Finally, THE ROAD TRIP! Every bad day of my corporate career, I fantasized about just getting in my car and heading west. When I got to a bar in Jackson Hole, I would call my office and say I’m never coming back. Well I made it to Jackson Hole, not by car but via commercial jet. -- Can you imagine a town of 7,000 people with a full service airport! Thank you, Mister Vice President. – So why not go now? I’ve got the time. I’ve got the inclination. I’ve got the right car. What else could a man need . . .
My tentative route is to go from southeast Michigan around Chicago; up through Wisconsin to Bloomington, Minnesota/Mall of America. Then across Minnesota trough Fargo to Bismarck, N.D.; Then across N.D. into Montana to Billings; down through Idaho Falls to Salt Lake City to Las Vegas then to Los Angeles. Coming back I’ll go up though Vegas to Denver and then home. About 5100 miles!

Day 1 – I decided my rules are: 1) relax; and 2) no French Fries. That’s it. Didn’t mean to drive 620 miles the first day, but I did. Missed a turn above O’Hare and went the long way from there to Madison, Wisconsin but no sweat. Drove through the Wisconsin Dells – if I only knew what the hell the Wisconsin Dells were! What the hell does Farmer in the Dell mean while I’m at it.
Saw some lovely orange barrels and very little else but it was an excellent day. Love to drive that little beemer.
I finished listening to The Moonshine War which Elmore Leonard wrote in 1969. That man has a wonderful ear for dialog and fantastic characters. Always has a strong silent hero who’s a man’s man.
Stick with me; it'll get better tomorrow.