This is a question which causes many humans I know to cringe with fear and seek hiding or even seek easy-at-hand methods of suicide to save them from hearing my adventuresome tale of my quest for America again. And again. And...........again.
Back in August 2007 I flew to Chicago, Illinois where I met my sister and her youngest son Brian, who had driven there from their homes in Missoula, Montana and Great Falls, Montana respectively, and we spent the next 10 days riding down historic Route 66.
"The Mother Road".
"Main Street of America".
"The Will Rogers Highway".
From Chicago to L.A. (Santa Monica to be exact) more then 2,000 miles all the way.
We were in search of America so to speak. But mainly we were just looking for a nice drive.
Here's my sister in front of "The Art Institute of Chicago" at the beginning of the route and our adventure. Her real name is Vickie, but our family has 6 boys and 1 girl, so she became "Sister" early on. I tried calling her "Vickie" once after I'd grown up. It felt creepy.
And here's Brian and myself all ready and rarin' to go.
You'll note the smiles and good natured camaraderie expressed in these photos. 10 days later, after spending every waking AND sleeping hour no more then 10 feet from each other, we weren't quite as hail and hearty as we began.
And that's the story I'd like to tell you all.
Buckle up readers...the next bundle of blogs (what IS a collective of blogs called anyway?) will be full of tales of heartache and woe, happiness and joy, history and legend.
The story of how 3 people made the ultimate road trip, nearly killed each other and lived to tell the tale.
This will not be your father's vacation slide show...though there ARE 3900 photo's documenting the spectacle.
Talk to you soon!