Day Twelve - Santa Monica, CA

Well the Mamas and Papas were California dreaming, and so were the Okies when they fled the Dust Bowl in the 30s. In fact it seems that everyone in America dreams of California...so what is it about the place that inspires all these dreams?

Well, one factor must be the body beautiful. I wandered down from Santa Monica pier towards Venice beach this afternoon. I passed the original spot of Muscle Beach where body building began and carried on down to Venice and the hippies and musicians who populate the street by the beach.

When God created woman he was thinking of California. As I walked along the beach I was assaulted visually by the local dress code which for women is measured in stitches rather than centimetres or inches.... It was at this point I made the decision not to actually venture on to the sand itself for fear of fainting...

The beach however was impressive - not only for the vast expanse of sand, but also for its cleanliness. They are very tough on littering round here and smoking (unfortunately and possibly unfairly) is banned on the beach - all helping to keep the place safe and clean.

So beautiful bodies and cleanliness are definitely plus points for California - but they alone do not a dream make....

Another stand out feature is the whole atmosphere here. Laid-back, friendly and warm. Three words - although there are surely others. There is a suspicion that Californians have the most fun in America - and it may be true.

I even saw the offices of a law firm - Bernstein, Fernstein, Craddock and Dooberry - right on Venice beach. I wonder how much work they actually get done!? (That is not the real name of the firm, but you get the picture).

[Aside - the restaurant where I am having a deluxe dinner in my hotel has so far played "Starman" from the Ziggy Stardust album and is now playing "Going to California" by Led Zeppelin. How cool is that?]

Climate must also play a part in California's dream specifications. While it is hot, it is very pleasant. The breeze from the Pacific Ocean keeps things cool and refreshed - unlike the arid and brutally hot deserts in Nevada and Arizona. Of course - inland California has the same heat as those states - but no-one moved to California to live inland - right?

I think the final two ingredients are confidence and duty. Confidence that comes from being the place that everyone wants to move to and dreams about. Confidence that comes from having such a booming and strong economy.

And duty that comes from epitomising the American Dream for so many inside and outside America. There is a duty to live up to that dream.

So California is fun and friendly. Warm and relaxed. Booming and dynamic. On the surface it is a dream place - but they still have a McDonald's on every corner and driving through north Hollywood this morning - it was anything but glamourous. Smoking is the equivalent to paedophilia in terms of public perception and the coffee is still crap. Pollution is brutal and while most people are friendly - they are hardly deep.

But then if you spent your time in the sunshine, having fun, watching babes in bikinis and earning a decent dollar, there wouldn't be much incentive to read Nietzsche and Wittgenstein in the evenings and worry over the meaning of life - would there?

So - California Dreaming is ok by me.

Let's just fix the rest of America - before it's too late. ( And relax the smoking laws in California too!)

And with that, here endeth Route 66.

Day Twelve - Pasadena, CA to Santa Monica, CA

Woke up early and tired after a night in the Westwood Inn, Pasadena.

This place was a fairly downbeat motel run by Taiwanese who spoke only a little English, but at 10.30 at night, I didn't have much choice . . .

I packed my bags quickly and jumped into the car - no coffee - and set off on the final run of Route 66 through to Santa Monica Pier - and then hopefully off to Malibu to visit the magical Shangri-La studios . . .

Traffic in LA is bad and it took me more than an hour and a quarter to get to Hollywood and then on to Sunset Boulevard, before peeling off on to Santa Monica Boulevard and the home stretch of Route 66. Sheryl Crow's "All I Wanna Do" played on the iPod as I cruised down Santa Monica Bl . . .

"....When the sun comes up over Santa Monica Boulevard . . . " as the song goes. . .

I called my connection just after 10am as specified. Not good news.

The owner of the studio - Beej Chaney, formerly of the band The Suburbs - was not keen on opening up for me to visit and the manager himself had a busy day etc etc etc. In short - I wasn't going to Shangri-La. Probably for the best as the legend says that if you go to Shangri La then you never leave.

Disappointed? Yes, I was. But not for long. As I arrived in Santa Monica the sun was coming up and my weariness after the last week and a half in the car hit. The sight of the hotel - a fairly upscale one - was cheering.

After last night's high of enthusiasm, it is now back down to earth and the Shangri La studios can remian a dream not yet lived.

Anyway - that's what California is all about. Dreams.

Day Eleven - Boom, Like That

Below are the lyrics from "Boom, like that" - the oustanding Mark Knopfler song from the Shangri La album which tells the story of Ray Kroc and how he took control of McDonald's, killed the competition and created a fast food empire and a huge personal fortune - all on the back of a great idea by two brothers who he bought out and from his highly aggressive salesmanship and business style.

The song was my reason for visiting San Bernardino in the first place and going to the Original McDonald's. Interestingly the curator of the museum at the Original McDonald's - Jack - told me that they never advertise, but that people come by word of mouth and reviews, and that lately many people come because of a song about Kroc. I asked him if he meant "Boom, Like That" and replied that that was the song. So I am not alone.

While the lyrics alone don't do the song full justice (Mark's guitar playing and phrasing on the song is outstanding) - they do show how Knopfler tells a story. He is also a meticulous researcher of his material and this applied to both this song and also another great song on the album "Song for Sonny Liston".

BOOM, LIKE THAT - Shangri La - Mark Knopfler

i'm going to san bernardino
ring-a-ding-ding
milkshake mixers
that's my thing, now
these guys bought a heap of my stuff
and i gotta see a good thing sure enough, now
or my name's not kroc
that's kroc with a 'k'
like 'crocodile'
but not spelled that way,
now it's dog eat dog
rat eat rat
kroc-style
boom, like that

the folks line up
all down the street
and i'm seeing this girl
devour her meat, now
and then i get it, wham
as clear as day
my pulse begins to hammer
and i hear a voice say:
these boys have got this down
oughtta be a one of these in every town
these boys have got the touch
it's clean as a whistle
and it don't cost much
wham, bam you don't wait long
shake, fries patty, you're gone
and how about that friendly name?
heck, every little thing
oughtta stay the same
or my name's not kroc
that's kroc with a 'k'
like 'crocodile'
but not spelt that way,
now it's dog eat dog
rat eat rat
kroc-style
boom, like that

you gentlemen ought to expand
you're going to needa helping hand, now
so, gentlemen well, what about me?
we'll make a little business history, now
or my name's not kroc
call me ray
like 'crocodile'
but not spelt that way,
now it's dog eat dog
rat eat rat
kroc-style
boom, like that

well we build it up
and i buy 'em out
but, man they made me grind it out, now
they open up a new place flipping meat
so i do, too
right across the street
i got the name
i need the town
they sell up in the end
and it all shuts down
sometimes you gotta be an s.o.b.
If you wanna make a dream reality
competition? send 'em south
if they're gonna drown
put a hose in their mouth
do not pass 'go'
go straight to hell
i smell that meat hook smell
or my name's not kroc
that's kroc with a 'k'
like 'crocodile'
but not spelt that way,
now it's dog eat dog
rat eat rat
kroc-style
boom, like that

Day Eleven - Pasadena, CA

An incredible evening. Just incredible. I am like a little kid with a grin the size of the Hoover Dam.

I went to Pete Strobl's house in Monrovia - just outside Pasadena. By quirk of fate, Pete lives just off Route 66 - so aligning nicely with my journey.

What an amazing guy. We sat and talked for nearly three hours - complete strangers whose passion for music and admiration for Mark Knopfler in particular caused us to come together with some help from Google....

I am not going to write about what we talked about - a) because there was just so much and b) because some of it or most of it was private conversation about things which need to just stay in the room as they say.

BUT, it was fascinating and Pete is very nice person. I also met his girlfriend Amanda who designed the Shangri La website and who is the proud owner of a wonderful gentleman poodle.

I touched and indeed briefly played a Mark Knopfler Signature Fender Stratocaster which Mark had given Pete as a thank you gift after the recording of the Shangri La album at the Shangri La recording studios. It was magnificent. A wonderful guitar - a '57 body with a '62 neck and a really amazing feel to it.

I learned a lot about the history of the Shangri La studio and of course about Mark Knopfler, who from all that Pete said, must just be a great guy as well as a truly remarkable musician and lyricist.

Pete is also an extremely talented composer and we exchanged notes on recording and editing software for music - he is a Cubase fan, and discussed a whole range of musical topics. He knows a lot of stuff and is wonderful to talk to about music - not to mention the other topics of our conversation such as the state of the US, healthcare system problems and life in the UAE. The main thing was the music though - and I think we spent about 30 minutes just talking about one guitar - The Spectrum - which Mark Knopfler had given a rather amusing nickname to for the Shangri La sessions.

There are few people I know who could or would fully appreciate what a totally magical experience this was. To meet the guy who used to manage the Shangri La and indeed refurbished it and brought it back to life after Robbie Robertson and The Band had left the Shangri La Ranch where they had lived in the '70s and it had fallen into disrepair.

A guy who managed the recording sessions for Mark Knopfler's Shangri La album and who considers Knopfler a friend and vice versa. And a guy who just loves music and understands its power and its beauty.

To most who will read this - this will mean very little and their response may well be "So what?" For me, however, this was a most memorable evening.

Pete was not only generous with his time and spirit, he also gave me some gifts to take away. Gifts which to me are priceless - particularly as they came with the story behind them too.

Tomorrow I will try to meet with the current manager of the Shangri La - with whom I spoke this evening. I have been asked not to reveal his name or any details - but will speak with him in the morning after he has had a chance to consult with the owner of The Shangri La ranch - a mysterious character - to see if I might visit the studios where The Band lived, where Eric Clapton, Bonnie Rait, Neil Young and countless others have recorded over the years and where one of my favourite records of all time - Shangri La - was made by one of my favourite artists.... Mark Knopfler.

When the manager asked me how I got his number and why I wanted to visit (suspecting something a little fishy) my answer was so straightforward and yet so bizarre I think I won his trust.

Fingers crossed!

In the meantime, I have set the alarm for the first time on this trip - so I can set off early for Malibu for my rendezvous....

And I still have to drive another 30 miles or so to complete Route 66. I guess that can wait 'till the afternoon!

Day Eleven - Rialto, CA - just outside San Bernardino....

Wow!

I had been thinking about going up to Malibu to try and visit the legendary Shangri La music studios which was the recording home of The Band, and many other musicians from the 60s. It is also where Knopfler recorded the excellent Shangri La album.

It is somewhat of a mystical shrine let's say...

Anyway - googled the studio and tracked down via a blog and a website a man named Pete Strobl who was listed as the manager of the Shangri La.

So on the offchance I emailed Pete at an address listed on a web site....

And, amazingly, it worked!!!!

I just spoke with him on the phone - he is a musician and music teacher. It turns out he doesn't run the Shangri La anymore but he has emailed me the number of the new manager to call. He also has invited me to come over to his place and get a load of photos from the studio, including the Knopfler sessions and a live recording session Knopfler did last year. He had lunch with Mark Knopfler last month in London. Very cool.

I am VERY excited and hope I get to go to the Shangri La after all!

Yippeee!

Day Eleven - Barstow, CA to San Bernardino, CA

California - once part of Mexico and now the 7th largest economy in the world, if it were to be counted in isolation....

The destination of the American dream, whether for gold prospecting or just the chance for a new opportunity in a place that seems to stimulate entrepreneurship and innovation more than anywhere else. Inventions from California include the vacuum cleaner, personal computers, the Internet, the frisbee, fortune cookies, McDonald's and Mickey mouse to name but a few....

It is the most diverse state in the US in terms of ethinicity and immigrants and has the most people at 35 million.

In daylight the landscape marks a change from the red hues of Arizona - now it is really desert and there is beige white sand everywhere speckled with scrub.... And there is SO MUCH space.... Occasionally dissected with a road or a railway line....

Out of Barstow on Route 66 I put on "Shangri-La" by Mark Knopfler (more on this outstanding album in a separate post) and headed off towards Victorville and then towards San Bernardino. Little towns punctuate the desert road - and I mean little - Hodge for example has a population of 431 people....

I had a strange sense of expectation and excitement about reaching the last stage of Route 66 - mixed with a tinge of sadness and disappointment that the road was going to end and with it my journey across the USA.

This trip has always been about the journey and much less the destination, so as time and road run out, so does the feeling of "the traveller" and the "observer"....

And then I rolled into Victorville, a town dominated by cement factories and other industrial plants....and home to EmmaJean's Holland Burger Cafe....where a scene from "Kill Bill" was shot.

An original Route 66 cafeteria / diner in original condition - right down to the faded leatherette stools around the counter area where you sit and watch the short order cook slave away at the griddle, while the waitress runs around making jokes and having fun with the customers.... You have the feeling it's always been this way here - right from when it was first opened in 1947.

An amazing place and a MUST STOP.

Mine was a cup of coffee and an All American Bacon, Lettuce and Tomato sandwich on white toast...quite the best I have ever seen or tasted. Awesome.

Through Victorville and into the valley descending to San Bernardino. Time for a truly authentic California sound - Surf Rock. There are two kinds of Surf Music - The Beach Boys style which is all about the California of fun and sun and then there were the musicians like Dick Dale who tried to capture the feelings of the surfer hitting the big wave on their guitars. Dick Dale was of Lebanese parentage (his father) and was known for his famous son "Miserlou" which was actually an old Greek rebetika song which he took and added his low tuned, thick stringed gold Fender Stratocaster to. The song was revived in the Tarantino move Pulp Fiction. Dale also plays the trumpet part on the track.

Surf Rock didn't really survive the 60s but it has a unique sound and is an interesting sub genre of modern music unique to California. The genre was revived in the 1990s following the release of Pulp Fiction, with bands from further afield - including Finland! - getting in on the act. The band names were great too - here are some of the bands and tracks::

Dick Dale and his Del Tones - Miserlou
The Ventures - Walk Don't Run
The Chantays - Pipeline
The Bel-Airs - Mr. Moto
The Lively Ones - Surf Rider (also in Pulp Fiction)
The Astronauts - Baja
The Aqua Velvets (formed in the 90s and followers of the Dick Dale sound - named after an aftershave) - Guitar Noir
Pollo Del Mar (formed in 1994 and named after a brand of canned tuna) - A Flash of Green
The Vanduras - La Planche
Laika & The Cosmonauts (A Finnish surf band formed in the 1980s) - N.Y. '79
The Blue Hawaiians (another 90s band) - Martini Five-O

Great stuff to accompany me into San Bernardino proper and a ride down the legendary Mt Vernon Avenue past fading motels and garages. Then a left turn and off to the North end of town to see the original McDonald's on E st and 14 st. No longer serving burgers it is now a museum to McDonald's and Route 66 - owned by Mexican businessman who has a chain of chicken restaurants.

The hamburger was invented in 1891 by Otto Kusaw in Hamburg, Germany. The cook sold two thin beef patties topped with a fried egg and served between two slices of bread.

In 1895, fifteen year old Charles Nagreen of Seymour, Wisconsin sells meatballs at the country fair. To make them easier to eat while walking, Nagreen flattens the meatballs and puts them between slices of bread....

In 1900, Louis Lassen, original owner of Louis Lunch in Newhaven, Connecticutt puts a beef patty on two slices of white bread and serves in his restaurant.

In 1904, at the St Louis World's Fair, Fletcher Davis of Athens, Texas, sets up a hamburger stand. The hamburger in America is born.

In 1921, the first hamburger chain, White Castle, begins in Wichita, Kansas. The company now has 380 locations.

In 1948 the first McDonald's drive-in is opened in San Bernardino, California by brothers Richard & Maurice McDonald. Ray Kroc bought the company - but not the original restaurant - in 1955. It now has more than 30,000 restaurants in more than 120 countries.

Ray Kroc was a milk shake mixer salesman from Illinois. One of his customers for the Multi Mixer was the McDonald's restaurant in San Bernardino.

As Knopfler puts in his excellent lyrics in the song "Boom Like That", that's "Kroc with a K, like crocodile but not spelled that way...."

Kroc could see from his own sales that McDonald's family business in California was doing well so he decided to cross America along the same route as Route 66 - but Kroc probably flew - to meet the McDonald's brothers, Maurice and Richard (Dick).

Their clean restaurant, cheap prices, simple menu and friendly service impressed Kroc and he could see the recipe for success. He even liked the name "McDonald's" which had a family friendly / homely quality. An aggressive salesman, Kroc pitched the idea of franchising the brand and going into partnership with the brothers to spread McDonald's across America. The brothers reluctantly agreed to the hard talking Kroc's proposition. They kept their existing nine restaurants - which had already brought them prosperity - and allowed Kroc to open the franchise in the East. Kroc's first restaurant was in Des Plaines, Illinois and featured the now legendary golden arches.

As he expanded quickly, Kroc realised that the brand was very powerful - but it was the real estate that would be the winner for him. He bought up land which he would then lease back to franchisees and make a fortune from both the franchise and the real estate.

His views on the business and those of the McDonald brothers were very different. He set up his new McDonald's in direct competition with the existing restaurants owned by the brothers and started to squeeze them. In 1955 Kroc bought them out for $1 million US apiece and then declared the Des Plaines, Illinois McDonald's the first ever and denied the existence of the brothers. Kroc died in 1984 a multi-billionaire - but his manner, motives and morals were certainly not to be admired.

The fate of McDonald's original restaurant and Route 66 are somehow similarly linked and symbolise the mass commoditisation of America and American values.

Both McDonald's and Route 66 started out as "local" and post war were symbols of the kind of honest prosperity and hope that made America so great. Both were born of need - Route 66 to allow the people from the East and the Mid West cross the country to find opportunity and a chance to flee the depression and the Dust Bowl, McDonald's simple restaurant was born to provide simple honest food to families at affordable prices and with a friendly atmosphere.

Eisenhower's interstate highway system "nationalised" America and reduced the "locallness" of small town USA. The system connected the dots and made it much easier to centre the economy and the people on the big cities as they were now connected more effectively. Trans American migration became a far more easy reality - and coupled with the post war boom in the automotive industry - this is exactly what happened. America became less local and more national, but with small town USA losing its identity, economy and home spun values in short order.

McDonald's under Kroc did the same thing. It took a local, family business and in the relentless pursuit of money - it homegenised the brand and the concept so that the experience was the same across the USA and now the world. Character, values and identity became franchised. Just as other chains have done since - such as Starbucks and KFC.

But this franchising of the American soul has a cost to balance against the dollars. That cost is an identity which people today struggle to define. A value system built around freedoms and rights but few responsibilities and an America which is all but morally bankrupt on anything other than a superficial level.

The big question is what next? Will America choke on its own greed? Will people be forced or choose to return to some older values?

With a multi trillion dollar debt which is paying for tax cuts and the wars, a weak dollar and some of America's biggest companies in trouble (General Motors, Ford, Daimler Chrysler) the economy is shaky.

Obesity is killing more people than the almost outlawed smoking and healthcare expenses and insurance are one of the key themes of the forthcoming Presidential elections as people are now terrified of going bankrupt should they suffer a serious illness and the State cannot and will not provide. Ironically it is some of the other "great" US companies which are causing this - such as Coca Cola, Pepsi, McDonald's, KFC etc. And these healthcare and obesity issues are MAJOR threats to these global brands....

Finally the morality of America is at an all time low - with the Christian hard right which can now be summed up with the line: "Eats, shoots and believes" (with apologies to Lynn Truss...). Muslims make up a larger and larger proportion of the population and continue to grow but are marginalised in politics and discriminated against by almost everyone. And the largest growing group are the non-believers. Perhaps because there is so little left to believe in America.

Route 66 and the original McDonald's show you how it once was - when America was really great and when it had every hope and opportunity for the future.

In the end, what spoiled it for the US, are the two must fundamental human drivers. Greed and fear. America is a nation of greedy and frightened people.

It's a shame - they have nothing to fear and no-one is going to steal America's lunch - either literally or figuratively...

If America can regulate its greed at a national, corporate and individual level and learn to embrace the things and people it knows nothing about instead of rejecting them wholesale as "bad, scary, worse than us" then there is hope that this once great nation can once again be great.

Will the next President do that? Probably not. It'll take mass disaster and wholesale disenfranchisement from the populace - which will probably be as painful as the Great Depression and the Dust Bowl days in the 20s and 30s.

To be a proud American it is enough to be able to identify what it means to be American. If I were running for President, that is what my manifesto would focus on - redefining what it means to be American and not glossing over the reality of what America and Americans have become.

And with that, I will finish my Big Mac and head back to Route 66 for the last 50 miles or so.

Day Ten - Las Vegas, NV to Kingman, AZ to Barstow, CA

As Cesaria Evora sang in her dark, rich tones I slowly got to Kingman, AZ.

I stopped on the road to take a few photos and nearly melted in the heat. It is nearly as hot as the Gulf in this part of America.

Passing through Kingman and on to Route 66 for perhaps the best drive so far - through the Black Mountains on Oatman Highway (the local name for this stretch of Route 66).

This is an old part of Route 66 and was famous (or perhaps notorious) for being a site of many accidents. I can now understand why....

You drive up a series of hairpin bends on a shabby road with enough width for ONE car only and no safety barrier on the edge of the road. Add in some blinding sunlight, stunning views and locals driving pick-ups as big as small barns as though they were at the race track and you get the picture.

I drove slowly, very slowly and only changed my underwear twice....

The views across the mountains are incredible and the cause for many stops to take photographs.

The music for this somewhat surreal journey across the mountains was the new double album by German artist ATB. This was the first time I listened to it properly having only bought it recently. It is very good. The first part is upbeat and has a strong dance beat and the second part is more ambient and very relaxing.

This saw me through the mountains and through to Needles - the first town in California.

California - the alphalpha sprout and tofu state...

Actually that is not really California's slogan - but it could be. These people are nuts and obsessed with health and fitness to the point when I was last here I felt like a convicted child killer every time I lit a cigarette - the way people looked at me.

Anyway, from Needles I headed down I-40 looking for the exit to Route 66 again. Janice got confused and I took several freeway exits only to get back on again.

The light was beginning to fade and gas was running to the last quarter of a tank, so I started to think about stopping for the night.

Problem #1 : The California section of I-40 has no motels by the freeway for the first 100 miles or more.

Problem #2: It also has no gas stations for about the same distance....

I thought I'd try my luck back on The Mother Road and directed Janice to get me there.... And between us we failed for the first two exits.

When I finally did get off I had a 15 mile drive from the Freeway to Route 66 which was in the middle of the desert with no towns to speak of and no traffic. At all.

I had read about a place on this stretch called Bagdad and wanted to stop there. But Bagdad by night is not impressive and it was close to 8pm now with no motel or petrol station in sight....

I set Janice to get me back to the Freeway and to Ludlow - the first place that looked like it might have a motel and a gas station.

I drove for about 60-70 miles at around 120mph on pitch black part of Route 66 with ATB playing at full volume and nothing but the desert for company on the whole stretch.... Shame I'd used my last clean pair of underwear in the Black Mountains....

Ludlow had nothing but one, tiny, decrepit motel by the roadside surrounded by large trucks. I thought about it, but felt that if worse came to worse, sleeping the night in the car at a McDonald's parking lot would be better than losing my virginity, wallet and car keys to a trucker from the mid-West, so I headed back on to I-40 and on to Barstow....

Although today was one of my lower mileage days - around 420 (yesterday was 570), because I spent so much time on the original road and also driving through Vegas and the Hoover Dam, I actually spent more than 12 hours behind the wheel.... And I arrived in Barstow, CA exhausted and desperate for food and a bed.

The Good Lord provided in the form of a "Quality Inn" which had a smoking room on the ground floor for $89 + tax and a Mexican restaurant! Hooray!

I checked in immediately - drove the car around to my room and unloaded and then went straight to dinner.

Two Mexican beers and a plate of Chilli with refried beans were consumed with passion and speed. (Fortunately it's only me in the car tomorrow and Janice doesn't have a sense of smell!)

While eating dinner I was privy to a conversation among a typical American family who were on vacation and returning home.

The grown up son talked at length about his gardening business before launching into a diatribe about how unreasonable and demanding his Mexican employees were - only wanting to work eight hours a day, have a proper lunch break and so on. Worse still - they wanted to be paid a fair wage as well!

Then they started to talk about different places including Lake Mead - which is by the Hoover Dam and Lake Tahoe - which after the Great Lakes in the North and in Canada is perhaps the most well know of America's Lakes...except Woody (that's what I named him) didn't even know which state it was in. (The answer for ten points is California)

Mother then talked about how she likes to write poems and how she is trying to write one about "the seasons....you know, like the four seasons, spring, summer and so on". Well, good luck to her on the poetry front - with such an obvious talent for the "implicit" she's on her way. Sylvia Plath look out. Her son then went on to share some lyrics from some of his favourite rap artists which turned the air blue.

They then went on to discuss TV shows. And that was their conversation for the rest of the meal.

This conversation sums up America's interests nicely - the economy, America's sites of interest (even though most don't know where they are), low culture and TV. That's about it.

Some are interested in base politics and religion - although under the current President you'd be hard pushed to tell the difference.

I hadn't planned on getting as far as Barstow and am not due in LA until the day after tomorrow - so I will have a leisurely day browsing towns on Route 66, visiting the McDonald's museum and the first ever McDonald's in San Bernardino and perhaps a detour to Death Valley - the hottest place in the US.

Mark Knopfler's "Shangri-La" album will be a major feature of my day as I head slowly to Los Angeles....and the end of the road in Santa Monica.

Day Ten - Williams, AZ to Las Vegas, NV

What a morning! An amazing contrast with the depressing evening which preceded it - although it did give me a chance to do some intense reading on American history....

Got the hell out of the dreadful [End of] Days Inn in Williams and drove downtown for a quick breakfast somewhere safe before getting on the road.

Shortly after Williams there is a turn-off to the old Route 66 which rides all the way to Kingman, following the Santa Fe railroad through the mountains and the valleys.

"Highway to Hell" - the best AC/DC album from the Bon Scott era was a great  way to start the day.... "Livin' easy, Livin' free...." - the first line of the title song and the album....perfectly summing up my Route 66 experience....

This was followed by "Back In Black" - the memorial album that AC/DC released in honour of Bon Scott after his premature death (one of the great Rock'n'Roll deaths - choked on his own vomit after an enormous drinking binge). The album is deservedly one of the best selling rock albums of all time.

With a massive grin plastered across my face - inspired by the music and the scenery - I headed through small towns with the customary motels and diners snapping photographs when the mood took me and tailing bike gangs as they rode out for a Sunday morning blast on old Route 66.

ZZ Top's "Eliminator" was the last of the rock music as I arrived in Kingman and had to make the decision whether or not to go up to Salt Lake City in Utah - home of the Mormons - or head to Las Vegas, Nevada - home of the tasteless, kitsch and desperate. Las Vegas won.

Highway 93 takes you across the desert through stunning scenery framed by mountains and valleys. Great vertiginous rocks chaperone the Colorado river as it weaves its way through Nevada and Arizona on to Colorado - and of course through the Grand Canyon which I visited yesterday, but where I was way too scared to look down and check if the river was still running through it!

My music selection for this diversion up to Vegas was "Pirates Choice" by Orchestre Baobab. The group is from Senegal and was formed in 1970 and focused on unique fusion of Afro / Cuban / Caribbean music mixed with African rhythms and beats from Senegal, Morocco and beyond. "Pirates Choice" is a session album recorded in 1982 and widely regarded as their best work - it is amazingly soulful, funky and mellow - all at the same time - with lyrics in Portuguese, French and Senegalese dialect. This recording features 6 previously unreleased tracks which are amazing.

But back to the road....

Arizona ends and Nevada begins at the Hoover Dam - a gift from President Franklin Roosevelt after his election in 1932 as part of his so called "New Deal" to lift America out of the Depression. It was completed in 1935 and its original purpose was to prevent floods from the Colorado river. It now provides electricity to the surrounding area including power hungry Las Vegas.

Next stop was Las Vegas where I had originally planned to visit a casino and blow some dollars at the roulette wheel.

Arriving in Vegas I headed down "The Strip" or Las Vegas Boulevard. One end is the old end with the sleazy strip clubs, faded small casinos of the 50s and 60s and the wedding chapels.

This faded neon / yesteryear end of The Strip has some charm - just a little....but the other end lacks any charm, taste and good sense. This is the end of The Strip with Caesar's Palace, The Venice Canals, The Eiffel Tower - including a replica of the Academie Francaise and of course the Pyramids - complete with sphinx. Add in The Mirage, a Trump Tower and the Mandalay Bay resort and the picture is complete...

It is horrendous. The only thing that impresses is the scale. This truly is the town that taste forgot - and indeed hopes never to remember.

Sin City in CAPITAL letters. Topless dancing clubs next to tattoo parlours next to giant casino resorts which dominate the skyline and all promise a better time than the next - except you know that there are no poor casino owners and someone has to pay for the billions of dollars that builds these megaliths.

Once a slightly naughty, seedy place favoured by the mob and its friends for entertainment and gambling, Las Vegas is now a multi billion dollar industry and has lost any sense of reality or charm. I decided to take a few photos and leave.

Orchestre Baobab are interrupted just for a few minutes by the low down and cynical Sheryl Crow song "Leaving Las Vegas" which only seemed fitting as I headed back Kingman and to Route 66. As I crossed the Hoover Dam again, Cesaria Evora took over the reins on the iPod and her "Best of Album" featuring some of the classics from the Barefoot Diva of Cape Verde kept me calm and sane in the mad traffic across the dam.

Next stop Kingman and then a trip through the Black Mountains of Arizona on the most dangerous part of Route 66....

Day Nine - Santa Fe, NM to Williams, AZ

The day began beautifully with a stunning drive down from the hills where Santa Fe is located to Albuquerque listening to The Little Willies with Norah Jones on vocals.

Central Avenue, Albuquerque is a wonderful stretch of original Route 66 with some fine neon, diners, gas stations and motels. What is great about this stretch through town is that it shows the convergence of the three main cultures in New Mexico (Anglo, Mexican and Native Indian) with cantinas huddled next to Whiting Bros gas stations and repair shops and Indian craft shops with rugs and beads next to them.

Out of Albuquerque and the road to Gallup. I-40 - which is a long highway that runs from Oklahoma through to California - runs on the original Route 66 throughout pretty much all of the rest of New Mexico and into Arizona. More Country music accompanied me along this road as I enjoyed the scenery of New Mexico - one minute flat plains and then elevation, colour and rocks for miles and then flat again...Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings and others adding to the drama of the scenery.

"Well I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die..." - Folsom Prison Blues - Johnny Cash. Brilliant.

Coming into Arizona you feel that you really have arrived in the Wild, Wild West. Suddenly huge mountains and rocks flank the road - red rocks at that, and the scrub on top of desert dirt gives the impression of real Western country - no floral gardens here, thank you.

Bob Dylan's "Desire" may not have much to do with the place I was in, but the epic nature of the album - especially songs like the Hurricane and the 10 minute Joey - about the New York gangster Joey Gallo - fit right in with the epic scale of the Arizona landscape.
And "Desire" is a great album - one of his best.

Just before Holbrook I peeled off the freeway and visited the national park of the Petrified Forest and the Painted Desert. This is a 28 mile road which meanders through some absolutely breathtaking scenery. I remember being taken there as a child by my father - ever dilligent in ensuring that the kids saw all the main sites. It features wood - indeed whole trees - that have become fosilised and have turned to crystal format and agate in particular.

The place was full of tourists - mainly Americans and mainly white trash. While observing this species in its habitat,  I spotted two extremely rare phenomena in the park....

Firstly, a Japanese couple carrying absolutely NO camera equipment at all (yup - NONE) and secondly - and perhaps even more remarkable, an American family eating fresh fruit. Yes, FRESH FRUIT. Not a chocolate bar, soda or french fry in sight.

I was quite overcome.....

Also of great interest in the park is the Painted Desert - a series of remarkable geological formations in the desert which over thousands of years have created rocks with different coloured strata which - added to the shadows and the reflections of the sun - create a stunning view. Route 66 cuts across the park - but unfortunately it is one of the sections which is no longer in service.

There are also some examples of petroglyphics - carvings in stone made by native inhabitants thousands of years ago - confirming that there has been life in this area for a very long time.

My musical accompaniment through the Petrified Forest and then back on Route 66 through Holbrook was Bach's Goldberg Variations. Perfect - although a somewhat contrasting experience to the visual features provided by downtown Holbrook which is another MUST - SEE main street on Route 66.

This little town features another fine selection of Route 66 diners and motels - with one standing out from the crowd - the Wigwam Motel. (Strapline - "Have you ever slept in a Wigwam?"

Still operational today - all the rooms are concrete wigwams. It was opened  in 1950 and is still owned by the same family today. Even more impressive is the fact that the family's own collection of classic American cars from 1940's pick-ups to Beetles from the Seventies are parked outside the Wigwams making this into a Route 66 shrine. Great photo op which I couldn't turn down. The Wigwam motel became a chain and there is another in San Bernardino, California which I will look out for.

After the Goldberg Variations I moved on to Handel's Concerti Grossi - Concertos number 5, 6, 7 and 8. (I always feel that Handel was a bit of a rock'n'roller of his time and this stuff just lifts you up). Handel got me through to beyond Flagstaff as I peeled off towards the Grand Canyon - a small 120 miles diversion from Route 66.

As I turned off the freeway to head up to the canyon - I felt something more grandiose was required on the music front and so headed towards one of the most breathtaking natural sights in the world listening to Beethoven's 5th.

The road to the Grand Canyon is rammed with curio stores and souvenir shops vying for attention and about ten miles out there is a plethora of motels. I had thought about staying the night here - but this is Saturday in the summer and another 93 million people had also decided to visit the site with me. At 25$ a shot for each car entering the Grand Canyon National Park - someone is making some good money on the back of a natural landscape!

I had visited the Grand Canyon also as a small child and could remember being terrified of the heights. As I drove towards it I tried to recall how big it was...
I failed.

When I arrived by the side of the canyon I parked up and took my camera to the "edge". It is vast. It is more than vast - it is gigantic, enormous, colossal.

It is impossible to describe the scale, the grandeur and the stunning views - just as it is impossible to describe the extent to which I suffer from fear of heights. I managed not to lie down on my front or crawl - which I often end up doing when very high up and very scared, but I did start to get dizzy and feel sick. So I rattled off some photographs from what I considered a safe distance from the edge (the drop is about 5,000 feet or around 1,700 metres - and it is straight down) and got back into the car. Relief!

 I recalled the same fear from my childhood when we had come here before as a family.

The only place I can remember which is as impressive from a physical and natural perspective is Meteora in Greece with the monasteries perched on top of huge rocky mountainous "pilons" reaching for the Heavens.

If you ever get a chance to go to The Grand Canyon - do it. It is extraordinary.

The return to Route 66 was Beethoven's 3rd and dusk was starting so I thought it was time to pull up for the night.

I knew that one of these days luck was going to be against me - and today was the day. Five motels in Williams - all no vacancy. I headed out of town and hoped....

As it was starting to get properly dark I spotted a Best Western and charged to it.

I waited patiently at reception while four Dutch guys tried to get directions from Mabel the receptionist to the nearest steakhouse in Williams. (The whole town is only a mile long - but it took them 12 minutes to clarify this).

While I was waiting I noticed a family unpack their luggage from a pick-up truck. It was all in dustbin bags with the kids running riot around the reception area. Then a drunk woman covered in tattoos arrived to join the early evening crowd in the lobby. I was beginning to get just a little concerned about the clientele here - but if I'd only known where I would end up....

In the meantime, I was getting bored, pissed off and uncomfortable in about that order and eventually butted into the Dutch Dinner Directions Debate and asked if they had a room. The Dutch were stunned into silence as Mabel let out a huge laugh and looked at me as though I were the moron - instead of her entire clientele - and informed me that they had been fully booked for months. So much for a "No Vacancy" sign on the door like everyone else...

The last chance was in the form of a really miserable looking [End of] Days Inn. I hadn't thought that the Days Inn in Clinton, Oklahoma could be surpassed in crapness.... But how wrong I was. Oh yes. Terribly wrong. And worse - they had just one room left - at the extortionate price of $120 + tax!

I took it.

I was tired, hungry and fed up with driving. That was my only excuse.

The hotel was ghastly and full of misfits, morons, miscreants, deviants, the deranged and the  generally disturbed .... plus me.

The room smelled awful, and the air conditioner - when you could get it to work - made it smell worse. The toilet was yellow - and that was not its original colour. The carpet was sticky and crunchy in equal measure. The floor above waspaper thing so I could hear the guy above me fart and change TV channel (which he sometimes did at the same time) and the bed was itchy. Apart from that it was five star....

Dinner at "Dennys" which is just across the yard from the motel - I didn't want to go further away because I was worried that one of the deranged deviants will steal my bags from the room, plus I may bump into the Dutch Dinner club in downtown Williams and I didn't think I could stand another detailed discussion on the directions for their not-so-distant domicile during dinner...

"Dennys" is crap. Really. No other word springs to mind. Faced with a choice of biscuits and gravy, classic diner meatloaf and gravy or a cholesterol infested bacon burger - I opt for the latter and sit and watch my fellow diners. Very depressing.

A local girl comes in and sits at the bar. She's probably around 21 or 22. She's very fat - but that's not remarkable. She has piercings all over her face and tattoos on her arms which are rather difficult to distinguish one from the other. She is wearing a top so tight her chest is falling out of the top and she has a flopped-out, badly-dyed black mohican which has fallen over one side of her otherwise shaved head and nestles above her very large hearing aid.

As she sits down, one of the bartenders - who must weigh about 300 pounds - comes wobbling over. He rests his very large and wobbly face and his five chins in his hands and leans on the bar and asks the girl what she wants to drink.

She orders a Cosmopolitan and I nearly choke on my bacon burger. A Cosmo! The drink made famous by the TV series Sex in the City - a series about trendy and sexy women living in New York. A drink synonymous with style, flair, sex and status.

A drink now being ordered and consumed by Brenda Slobovich from Williams, Arizona - centre of nowhere in particular (and twin town of Clinton, Oklahoma - I'm sure of it). I guess it shows the power of TV in terms of influencing the masses. It certainly doesn't make Brenda more attractive, sexy or appealing. In fact it just makes her sadder and more depressing.

I watched Brenda and Brendan Burgerchops - the greasy sumo barman - making eyes at each other and I could feel my dinner about to make a swift return to the table - so I got the check and got out. I hope to God that Brenda never has sex - apart from the stomach churning imagery, we really don't need that kind of DNA spread - and I am sure she will never visit a city, but in the meantime, she can certainly carry on drinking Cosmos with Mr. Burgerchops and live in hope - another kind of American Dream . . .

Back to the splendour of the [End of] Days Inn just before a massive thunderstorm strikes and I worried about the possibility of the very heavy rain breaking the not so heavy window in my room. Not that the noise level could get anyworse - just that a new level of discomfort could actually be achieved in a room that has already plumbed new depths....

Anyway - this post will go up tomorrow as there is no signal for any wireless device in Williams - and possibly large chunks of Arizona.

If I get out of here alive and without having contracted any fatal diseases, I will be facing the choice of going to Utah for a diversion, hitting Vegas or heading on through to California and using a day or two to enjoy the Pacific Coast before I fly to New York....choices, choices....

I quite fancy having some drinks with the Mormons, so mileage permitting, that may be the choice with a brief stop in Vegas on the way back to Route 66....

We'll see....

In the meantime, it's time to get some sleep - if I can block out the noise of the rain and Harry "Windypop" Fartmeister my upstairs neighbour....

Day Eight - Amarillo, TX to Santa Fe, NM

After stuffing myself with Prime Rib and waddling out of the Big Texan Steak House, I hit the trail again to the Cadillac Ranch....

What a disappointment! Only 10 Cadillacs in the Graveyard and they were covered in graffiti and being examined by a bunch of soccer mums with their kids in tow....

Straight back on the Route for me with Neil Young's "After The Gold Rush" playing in the car. Probably a sin to play a Canadian country/folk rock artist in the South West - particularly with the inflammatory Southern Man featuring on the album.... But it is a classic and suited the mood perfectly.

With 400 miles of Oklahoma empty, open and above all flat plains behind me, the Texas Panhandle was really more of the same in terms of scenery. Heading out of Amarillo I had become slightly bored with BIG OPEN SPACE so I knuckled down to belting through to New Mexico and plugged in The Dixie Chicks for another listen to what is fast becoming my favourite record of the trip.

In no time I was in New Mexico and the scenery started to change slowly into something massively beautiful. The beginning of the Wild West and suddenly there were hills and then mountains, wilder vegetation, and the earth changed from mud to a terracotta coloured dirt that provides great contrast with the pantheon of greens that map the topography of this part of the world.

The first town I went through is the first after the Texas state line - Tucumcari.

If you ever ride Route 66, stop here. It's main street has the best collection of original motels and diners I have seen so far and really captures the glorious past of Route 66 albeit in a slightly faded way.

The motel with the best neon is The Blue Swallow - which was so cool, I almost decided to stop there for the night - but Santa Fe was calling me. A '57 Chevy was parked outside. Immaculate in white and turquoise. Several photos of both motel and car were taken.

The rest of the town is more of the same - a real blast from the past which requires only a tiny amount of imagination to go back 50 years in just a mile or two.

I was dying for a Starbucks at this point - mid afternoon drowsiness no doubt not helped by consuming a cow and two devil chillies at lunchtime....

So I consulted Janice (my omniscient GPS SatNav system) and found that the nearest Starbucks was 200 miles away.... Obviously Seattle's finest hasn't penetrated the Wild West....

Next stop Santa Rosa and the Route 66 Automobile Museum. This place is a jewel. Run by an old guy who loves classic cars, the museum houses around 35 cars from 1947 through to 1973 including several original vintage Mustangs, 3 Corvettes, a number of BelAirs and a magnificent Thunderbird as well as an original Woody from New Mexico with the plate "El Woody".... All in beautiful condition and several for sale. I didn't quite have the money for the $40,000 1970 Camaro so left empty handed save for a couple more Route 66 T-shirts to add to my rapidly growing collection.

The guy told me that he sells a lot of cars to "walk-ins" - I.e. People who just come in, fall in love with oneof these immaculate beauties and then buy it. He sold two classics to a couple of guys from Ireland a month ago apparently. His only complaint was that he would sell far more cars but the wives stop their menfolk from blowing the family savings on a dream car that will require the sale of a kidney to maintain thereafter. I suggested he bans women from the museum and he looked at me wistfully as though the same thought had crossed his mind a thousand times....

After leaving Santa Rosa - having refuelled with gas and found something vaguely resembling coffee - I faced a dilemna...

Pre or Post 1937.... Before 1937 Route 66 followed a path up to Santa Fe after Santa Rosa and then went down through the canyons to Los Lunas before heading back up to Gallup. Post 1937 and they'd built a direct route through from Santa Rosa to Albuquerque and then onto Gallup. In those times the change would have saved at least four hours of travel through New Mexico - which is already the longest stretch of the eight states of Route 66 at 487 miles beating both Arizona and Oklahoma which are also in the 400s.

I elected to go for Pre 1937 and headed up to Santa Fe. What a great decision. The scenery is beautiful as you rise up into the low mountains from Clines Corner and pass Eldorado among other small towns.

My accompaniment for this leg was David Bowie in his Ziggy Stardust incarnation from the timeless album "The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars" (1972). This is another record I would take to my desert island. It is beyond words. Totally awesome and Bowie at his weirdest and creative best. Zeitgeist certainly, but it still sounds great today and will always sound great to me.

Voted by Time magazine as one of the top 100 albums of all time it also has a connection with New Mexico....

In 2003, in Roswell, New Mexico, a ritual was held and a special laser beam sent four songs from the album into deep outer space - celebrating the fact that Ziggy Stardust had come from planet Mars to save the earth....

The lyrics from the songs on the album, heavily fuelled by heroin, just hit you in the face... I always loved the following line from the first track "Five Years" - which predicts the earth's destruction in five years time:

"Think I saw you in an ice-cream parlour
Drinking milk shakes cold and long,
Smiling and waving and looking so fine....
Don't think you knew you were in this song..."

Wonderful.

Anyway - back to New Mexico as opposed to Mars...

This really is a beautiful place. Lots of space, lots of great fresh air with none of the stagnant humidity of southern Oklahoma and Texas and stunning landscapes. I passed through the valley before Santa Fe as the sun was just starting to set and it was lovely.

Sheryl Crow joined me again for this last stage of today's journey and sang me into the La Quinta Inn with her excellent version of the classic "The First Cut is the Deepest". Her music is also clicking just right on Route 66....

La Quinta is a good deal nicer than the [End of Our] Days Inn that I stayed in last night. A little more expensive at $89 but very pleasant.

There are a bunch of Harley riders staying here who are also doing the "Route".

I have to say that seeing their gorgeous Roadkings - the original 50's style roadster Harley - I am jealous and wish that I was doing this trip on a bike. BUT, the car has its advantages - particularly when it rains, as it did several times today - and of course in terms of music which is such a key ingredient for my Road Trip....

A nice dinner at The Flying Tortilla - a TexMex restaurant about 20 feet from the motel. Big fat fajitas with sizzling beef and vegetables with salsa, cheese, tomatoes, sour cream and guacamole....plus a salad. All for 18$. Great value is a common feature when dining out in the US - as are the enormous portions.

Tomorrow I will eat not a single cow (promise!) - I will simply admire them as I pass them in their fields.

This is perhaps the first state that has made me want to stop the car in the middle of the road and get out and take photographs....which I did several times.

I am really enjoying the road and getting deep into the folklore, the history and the mindset that goes with Route 66. This trip is like therapy - just me, my Mustang and my music plus the open road across America.

Magic.

Day Eight - Clinton, OK to Amarillo, TX

A stop at the Route 66 museum in Clinton, OK which was a real treat.

This little museum has not only an oustanding selection of memorabilia it also contains some fascinating history of how Route 66 came to be, the original migrants who travelled it to escape the Dustbowl and the Depression and also the culture around Route 66 in its heyday - music, cars, diners and gas stations etc.

The exhibit finishes with a great little film about Route 66 which you watch in an area set out like a drive-in movie house.

The old ladies who staff the museum were bemused and impressed in equal measure that I had rocked up in the little town of Clinton, Oklahoma all the way from Dubai. Of course I had to explain where Dubai was, but I won the furthest away visitor in their guest book for the week.

On leaving Clinton the music began with Tom Wait's Closing Time (1972)... "Ol' 55" - made famous two years after Wait's released it when it was covered by The Eagles - followed by "I Hope That I Don't Fall In Love With You", "Virginia Avenue" and then "Old Shoes and Picture Postcards"... And that was just enough Tom Wait's to kickstart the day. Saving the rest of this sublime album for a night time ride through Los Angeles later in the trip.

Then into jazz for the rest of the morning - starting with the classic Jimmy Smith record "Back at the Chicken Shack". Great organ from Smith and cool saxaphone. This album is usually reserved for Sunday mornings (or Saturday mornings in the Middle East) but somehow suited the relaxed mood driving across the flat plains of south west Oklahoma heading towards the Texas Panhandle...

Jazz is a uniquely American artform which although most famous in its incarnation in music also crosses over into prose and poetry. It is one of the great American exports which has literally covered the globe and spawned all kinds of derivatives over the years.

Following Jimmy Smith I moved to a different jazz era and style with Donald Byrd's "Street Lady" album. 70's, funky and very cool. That could only be followed by one of the originals of American Jazz and perhaps one of the most influential musicians alive still today - Herbie Hancock. This was one of his original and early records - the renowned Canteloupe Island featuring the two classics - Watermelon Man and the eponymous title track...

The road to Amarillo follows I-40 but running almost exactly parallel to it is the Old Route 66 which I spent most of my time on this morning driving through little towns like Groom, Claude and Conway before arriving in Amarillo and stopping at the famous Big Texan Steak House. This place is on billboards starting halfway up Oklahoma state - advertising it's famous 72oz steak. You can have this steak for free - as long as you eat it all in an hour including side dishes. Otherwise it's $72 + tax!

I opted for a slightly more sedate Panhandle Cut Prime Rib which was served with its own juice, some coleslaw and a great big beafsteak tomato with red onions. It was also accompanied by two green chilli peppers which I unwisely launched into until I almost instantly felt my face start to melt and tears form in my eyes. I would have cried out but I had lost my voice. Luckily none of the ginormous Texan hard nuts around me noticed this failure and I survived lunch without incident. (Check out the place on www.bigtexan.com)

This afternoon I am heading for Santa Fe in New Mexico and some real Tex Mex food for dinner....

But on the way I am stopping at The Cadillac Ranch which is just outside of Amarillo where apparently they have a huge graveyard for Detroit's finest with masses of Cadillacs buried in the ground....

Only in America!

Day Seven - Clinton, OK

Parked up for the night in Clinton, Oklahoma.... Centre of precisely nowhere....

Actually Clinton is home to the Route 66 museum which I am going to visit tomorrow morning before I head down the original road to Amarillo and back into Texas again through the Panhandle.

I have noticed an odd but distinct contrast between Oklahoma and Texas. While they both share several things in common - such as huge wide open spaces, road kill (I at last saw a couple of squished Armadillos on the road today, confirming their place low down on the evolutionary tree), huge steaks, very bad breakfast substances (grits anyone?) and a fondness for giant pick up trucks that are actually bigger than houses - they differ a great deal on porn. Yep - the two neighbouring states could not appear to be more different when it comes to the matter of pornography.

You see in Okie the highways are lined with billboards every 2 miles with advertisements speaking out against porn - saying that is corrupts mind, body and soul and destroys families and communities etc. In fact the only rap that porn doesn't get in Oklahoma is possession of Weapons of Mass Destruction. (Which, come to think of it, would make a GREAT title for a porn movie.... But I digress....)

No - in the "Clean State" of Oklahoma (that is the official state strapline by the way), porn is bad, sad, unwanted and just plain evil...

But across the state line and it's a totally different story with "Adult Movie Stores" literally lining the highway all the way to Houston. And with giant neon lights and billboards advertising promos with "buy two dirty movies and get a truly filthy one for free"...

I wondered whether these shops have captured the market in frustrated Oklahomans who dash across to Texas to get their jollies before returning to their towns and villages and to their church meetings on the evil sins of the flesh. Or perhaps Texans just don't give a shit about the niceties and put these stores where they need to be - close to truckers and travelling executives.

Who knows - but the contrast is quite striking. Maybe this is why so many Armadillos are found dead on the road in Texas - they're all trying to cross over the highway to the other side where Kenny's Adult Movie Centre has the free 6 O'clock showing of Annie Does Amarillo (the Armadillo remake of Debbie Does Dallas)...

Anway - back to Clinton (funny how that name follows sexual pecadilloes....hmmm).

 am staying at the exquisite "Days Inn" motel. I asked for the most expensive room in the house - and it rather frighteningly only came to $69....

Having got to my room I was VERY glad I didn't opt for a cheaper room....

This was classic American motel stuff - the motels in the movies where the bagman gets off-ed by the mob and the cops find him cut into pieces in his motel room. The kind of room where a 3rd grade hooker way past her prime ODs on smack and they find her 1 month later.... It is not a nice room.

But it is a smoking room - my first so far on this trip since Chicago - and that is a good thing.

It also has a TV that is the same size as my car - another bonus. And a coffee machine so I can make ridiculously poor quality American coffee in the morning and pretend I am being caffeinated....

I dined in the equally charmless "The Branding Iron" restaurant - a place which has only the following good points:

1. The steak was fresh and cooked well.
2. They put enough ice in my Pepsi.
3. It was cheap.

Other than that it was possibly one of the worst dining experiences of my life. Mainly due to the total lack of ambience (usuallly a TV blaring out a Dukes of Hazzard re-run would be a strong negative - but in this place it really lifted the mood) and the "customers". There were about eight other people eating there - whose combined IQ could not have exceeded 37.

A construction worker and two young guys - maybe his sons. They had iceberg lettuce, gherkins, okra, redcurrant jelly and ranch dressing for salads and something that looked like sick in a bun (with fries of course) for their main.

A couple sitting near me who - it transpired from their conversation (or perhaps that should be monologue as only the girl talked, while the guy ate his burger, drank beern farted and grunted) - actually came from Clinton and this was a "night out" for them. Fancy dining and so on.... Jesus wept!

A woman who wore a T-shirt advertising some kind of fertiliser from Tennesee - who ate a salad and left. Probably a good move on her part.

And then two semi-literate teenagers who had been hanging around reception when I checked in and who had joined me in spectating the downfall of Brandy -the on-duty receptionist who blew ALL her fuses while trying to enter my Dubai, United Arab Emirates address into the Days Inn computer system. Poor girl. I could have said  I'd just flown in from Mars and it would have made more sense to her...

I feel sure I will catch some diseases from this motel - if I am not shot dead during the night by one of the customers of The Turf Club - the country and western bar also attached to the hotel. I had almost stopped in for a cold beer there until I saw the clientele inside. Brutal rednecks would be an understatement - and the quick peek inside that bar has moved me to consider renouncing alcohol forever and becoming a Mormon....

Tomorrow Amarillo and then on to New Mexico - which I am rather looking forward too. Especially the food!

Day Seven - Music!!!!

Today has been an exceedingly good music day - and the speakers on the Mustang are now resting after a hard day's work which began with the Blues leaving Houston.

Bluesmen have great names and this morning's selection included some of the most varied and interesting:

Roosevelt Sykes
Sunnyland Slim
T-Bone Walker
Floyd Dixon
Otis Spann
Lightnin' Hopkins
Sonny Terry
Memphis Slim
Little Milton
Big Joe Williams

And my favourite (at least as names go)..... Furry Lewis....

I was wondering what name I would take if I were a proper Bluesman..... Would I be in the Blind Lemon school or the Town + Slim.... Or maybe I could be a Screamin' / Howlin' / Bawlin' / Crawlin' kind of Bluesman?

My choice was between Crawlin' Blind Pig Surname and Big Detroit First Name - but I'll need to work on the guitar and the voice before I earn my spurs...

After a good burst of the Blues from the US, it was then time for Nine Below Zero - the all British Blues Band. Their all time classic album - Live From The Marquee (their first professional album) is full of high energy, adrenalin pumped electric blues and includes the Nine's versions of some classics such as Sugar Pie Honeybunch, Woolly Bully and Got My Mojo Workin'. An amazing sound and up tempo as I headed up I-45 and then through Dallas. (Great skyline in Dallas)

Then one of my favourite guitar men - Mark Knopfler (formerly of Dire Straits) - whose solo work just keeps on getting better and better. Today I listened to Sailing From Philadelphia - which includes duets with Van Morrison and James Taylor. A mixture of rock, blues and country it is a great album with excellent lyric writing from Knopfler matched by his uniquely subtle and impressive guitar sound. Great stuff. I'm saving his more recent solo album - Shangri La - for the last leg in California as some of the songs were inspired by places there, as well as being recorded in the original Sixties Shangri La Studio in Malibu - and on original equipment as well!

Then a flashback to the end of the 90's and the album that summed up that decade - Urban Hymns by The Verve. Apart from the well known tracks like Bittersweet Symphony, The Drugs Don't Work and Lucky Man, there are several other blinding songs which are really powerful from the ballad Sonnet to the more abstracted Catching a Butterfly and Space & Time. Out of context with the rest of the day's music but totally appropriate to that particular section of the road and to my mood.

And then on to two hours of the Rolling Stones - who have a strange connection with The Verve. [I warn you in advance - this is the province of music nerds - but the violin part of Bittersweet Symphony by The Verve was actually "borrowed" from a riff written by Jagger and Richards in the 60's. The Stones' manager, Andrew Loog Oldham sued The Verve and won all the royalties from Bittersweet Symphony for The Stones. The Verve didn't make a penny from that song....]

Anyway! All the Stones classics right through the sixties and into the seventies. Speakers nearly blew up in the car and Mick, Keith and the band saw me through to Oklahoma and into the wide open plains again. Probably the greatest rock and roll band in the world today and after 40 years in the business.

It had to happen on this trip at some point. The Poet from Minnesota - Bob Dylan. I began with his best album - Blood On The Tracks. Written just after his divorce from his first wife Sara. A tremendous album. Full stop. So much range and variety and so many emotions - not to mention musical styles from ultra folk (Tangled Up In Blue) to hard core Blues (Meet Me In The Morning). I'll never get bored of this album.

The only thing to follow Dylan's best album is his second best - which used to be Desire - but since last year is perhaps his latest album - Modern Times. Bluesy, jazzy, splash of country and a new Dylan sound with a rougher voice, plenty of piano and a firm rhythm section make this a real treat. While it is something of a departure from what one would expect from Dylan, his trademarks are there in terms of social comment (Working Man's Blues) and the quirky poetic style of the lyrics.

Tomorrow's music is going to start with Tom Waits (who I was saving for California - but who I cannot resist listening to as I head off on Route 66 in the morning). It'll be his first album - Closing Time - from 1972. Still one of his finest records and that voice.....

The best description of Tom Wait's voice was from an American music critic who said that Wait's voice sounded "like it was soaked in a vat of bourbon, left hanging in the smokehouse for a few months and then taken outside and run over with a car."

I'm looking forward to it already!

Day Seven - Houston, TX to Oklahoma City, OK

After a much needed rest in Houston, I headed back up I-45 towards Oklahoma aiming to get back on Route 66 by the evening.

The road going up was less full of "Used Armadillo" but I did see the most impressive road kill to date - a wolf. Whoever hit that wolf must have done some pretty serious damage to their vehicle - unless it was one of the myriad of 128 wheeler trucks that seem to own this stretch of road in Texas. I am assuming the only bigger road kill I may see will be a "highway worker" - probably lying next to a cheque for $10,000 (or at least if it was in Missouri - here in Texas Highway Workers may be free - who knows?)

Remarkable place names abound in Texas - again displaying the American fondness for appropriating place names from other cities or even entire countries. The Lebanese from Lebanon, Missouri are sure to be relieved to have some brethren in Texas. I am talking of the Palestinians from Palestine, who live not far away from a town called Italy, Texas. That in turn is near Athens, Texas which is in the same time zone (i.e. within driving distance) of Paris, Texas - made famous by the great Wim Wender's film of the same name....

Bizarre to say the least.

Interestingly, while in Houston I chatted with a Palestinian immigrant (from Jerusalem - the original Jerusalem - not the Jerusalem that will inevitably be located near Shitsville, Nebraska....). He told me there were around 125,000 Arabs in Houston and that life had been good to them - the majority being Lebanese and Palestinian (again, the genuine article). However, they were all now considering another place as their next stop climbing the ladder of prosperity and security. A place in the Middle East which offers them the best of America - opportunity, freedom, comparative safety - but without the bigotry, racism and distance from home (both literally and in terms of being far from their culture). That place? Dubai - of course.

In fact, I noticed a distinct similarity between Dubai and some of America's larger and more prosperous cities like Houston. Large immigrant population, an economy which has had to diversify and a growth of urban and suburban districts springing from the ground with "perfect" gated communities living in a Truman Show like environment where even the Town Square and "neighbourhood" have been instantly and artifically created to give a sense of comfort, home and security.

Of course communities don't grow like this - they need time and an opportunity to grow their own identity away from the schemes and dreams of architects, master planners and entrepreneurial real estate developers.

Interesting that the American Dream is beginning to become tarnished enough for some immigrants to want to return to where they came from....

Anyway, I guess there is one country whose name the Texans won't steal to name a new city . . . and that country would be Iraq....

Day Six - Layover in Houston, TX

Lazy day so far catching up with sleep and ensuring my bacon count is high enough.

American coffee sucks. There are no two ways about it. It's black water. Weak, flavourless and utterly pointless. No wonder so many places give refills away for free - it would be criminal to charge for it. Having drunk a bucket of the stuff for breakfast I am now off to plug into Starbucks and get a hit of the real stuff before heading into Houston central to see a client on a social visit and then GET ME AN I-PHONE. AMEN.

I considered Darwin's theory of evolution last night before sleeping and came to the conclusion that there is a new way of testing his theory on the highways of the USA. Road Kill.

I have been closely monitoring the road kill on the roads so far and have seen dogs, cats, rabbits, small rodents and numerous Armadillo. (Is Armadill-i the plural of Armadillo? Does anyone care?).

By my reckoning the Armadillo has evolved the least and fundementally failed to adapt to its environment based on the fact that they are leading two to one against any other species in terms of becoming road kill across the US.

Indeed Armadillos must be only marginally less dumb than the bald headed, tattooed truck drivers who squish them with their 48 wheeler monsters which tear down the highways like weapons of mass destruction.

Incidentally, in Missouri there were road signs on the side of the Freeway stating the following:

Do not hit workers.
Fines of $10,000 or loss of licence

I was shocked that the average American motorist had to be REMINDED not to run down innocent labourers fixing the highway . . .

"Homer, remember not to mow down any workers today while we drive to the West . . . "

"Doh! Oooops - sorry Marge."

"Homer! I guess it was only one, so it doesn't matter."

Even more alarming is that the penalty for hitting a worker is just $10,000 or losing your licence! No jail time or public persecution - extraordinary. [On a side note, I was reading USA Today this morning and there was an interesting article about a young man who was sentenced to ten years in jail in Georgia when he was 17 years old for "receiving oral sex" from a girl aged 15. What a country! Run down a worked on the highway and get a $10,000 fine. But a blow job and its 10 years in jail. . .Jesus wept.]

Fortunately I have not seen any "workers" joining the ranks of the Armadillo - but then the trip ain't over yet!

Now, that i-Phone . . .

Day Five - Tulsa, OK to Oklahoma City, OK then a detour to Texas....

Today began bright and early at 5.30am when I awoke and couldn't get back to sleep. Must have been my body reacting to the steamed broccoli I had managed to locate and have for dinner the previous evening...(To be fair the broccoli came with a garnish of a baked potato and a 12oz top Sirloin steak...ahem)

Anyway, after cleaning out the breakfast buffet of bacon and coffee I set of from Tulsa and travelled original Route 66 for about an hour along narrow windy roads until getting bored with going slowly and headed off for the turnpike to Oklahoma City which follows the Route - but not religiously. A bit like me.

Oklahoma City is oh so pretty - as the original song lyrics of Route 66 say. And they're not wrong. The city is very pretty with some very nice old churches dotted about and a nice sense of scale. The outskirts were ugly by contrast and I saw rather more of them than intended as my GPS - Janice as I like to call her - got all confused....

I then headed south towards Texas through some lovely countryside at the southern end of Oklahoma before hitting Texas proper and on to Dallas where the traffic was terrible.

There was a way of avoiding the traffic - The President George Bush Turnpike - but I refused this option on principle. Particularly galling was the idea of paying to be on a road of that name....

Anyway, I toughed it out and nearly ran out of gas before hitting the main freeway south to Houston.

The Texans are crap drivers. Full stop. They hog lanes, they drive at stupid speeds (either too fast or too slow) and they duck and dive in traffic. BUT - this is Texas and so I refrained from advising them of their errors as I believe I am quite allergic to bullets and they dish them out down here with massive generosity.

Music today has been great - Mark Knopfler and Emmylou Harris on their recent country collaboration album - "All the Roadrunning". His great guitar and rough voice - her amazing clear and tender voice (considered one of the all time great female country vocalists).

Then all the JJ Cale music I own for hours - starting with Call Me The Breeze which had me turn the volume up to full and through Cocaine and After Midnight to Drifter's Wife and so on. Cale is a troubador in the original sense of singing story tellers. Simple, subtle and THE perfect road music for America.

Finally a return to some Sheryl Crow and repeat plays at full volume of "Run baby, Run" - definitely being added to my list of all time classic road anthems and then The Dixie Chicks again. They come from Dallas but have been demonised in their own state for making a derogatory remark about President Bush (see yesterday's post) so I thought I would support them in the Lone Star state they call home by playing them loud and proud in the car (albeit at the risk of getting shot by an angry Texan).

My main observations of the day are that America is very big indeed. I drove nearly 600 miles today and on the map what I drove is a rather short and unimpressive little line.

And, oh yes, Americans are VERY fat.

I had a quick bite at a roadside burger emporium - NOT McDonald's I hasten to add - and the combined weight of the four staff must have been close to a metric ton. I have never seen fatter people in such a confined space - hardly a great advertisement for the products they serve. But fat people - and I mean REALLY fat people - are everywhere in the US.

They live on junk food, do no exercise and turn into greasy behemoths. Apart from almost instant revulsion at the fattest - you end up feeling sorry for them. It seems like they just don't know any better. Moreover, the difficulty you have finding something wholesome and healthy to eat in this country is staggering - particularly by the roadside which is a mass of fast food dives and burger stands.

Anyway - I am beginning to form some first conclusions about America and Americans today which I will elaborate on tomorrow or the next day....

I am taking a "day off" from the trail tomorrow and doing some shopping in Houston and seeing one of my clients whose headquarters are here. Then Thursday it's back up to rejoin Route 66 and head further west....

Hasta la vista....

Day Four (PM) - Joplin, MO to Tulsa, OK

Having listened to more Blues than is good for anyone during the morning drive through the back roads of Missouri, I switched to Country for the afternoon . . .

The Dixie Chicks - from Dallas, this trio of ladies has put a new face on Country / Rock and managed to piss off virtually every Republican in the United States as well as solicit death threats from some "music lovers" after their lead singer "insulted" George Bush before the war began in Iraq. All she said was she was ashamed that the President of the US was from Texas. (I'm sure another 49 states in the US are very relieved he's not from their state so her comment was really pretty fair - but not for the ultra right of the US who boycotted their albums and concerts as a result - including ceremonies to burn their CDs in public places).

Anyway, this latest album of theirs, "Taking The Long Way" is excellent and thoroughly recommended to anyone driving 2,500 miles across America (the long way!)

Sheryl Crow - country / folk rock singer who is from Missouri, so very fitting for the road trip. A voice and a sound that have spanned more than 20 years in the business with a great crossover from blues to folk to country to rock. And she's hot too. And is another musician who has spoken out strongly against the Bush regime and the war on Iraq.

Townes Van Zandt - for anyone who doesn't know Townes Van Zandt then they should rush to buy his music immediately. A Texan country singer with a particular talent for melancholy and pain, Van Zandt is a troubador who sadly died in 1997 cutting short a career which has influenced many leading musicians who have since covered his work. Waiting Around to Die is an all time classic and the title alone sums up the Van Zandt approach to lyric writing. He also possessed an amazing voice which matches his lyrical output perfectly . . . . for more info on Mr. Van Zandt check http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Townes_Van_Zandt

Just before leaving Missouri I succumbed to a Route 66 souvenir shop in Carterville - just outside Webb City. The owner was a pleasant enough guy initially and had even heard of Dubai - including knowing that the Burj Dubai was due soon to be the tallest building in the world - lots of points for that knowledge. BUT . . . after the initial banter died down and I had committed to a Route 66 T-shirt, he began . . .

This guy was a major Route 66 nerd. I was "told off" for not having visited a Drive In Movie Theatre from the 1950s in some tiny town somewhere which isn't even on Route 66. I was castigated for not having an official Route 66 road book with maps and history (promptly purchased on the spot) and bemoaned for using GPS SatNav to get myself around.

I then had a guided tour of his shop - which, of course, was an original gas station in the 1930s serving Route 66 traffic and which this guy had bought and was now turning into his house as well as his shop. His wife must be delighted.

To be fair to him, his passion was admirable (if not contagious), but it did raise a question for me about my journey. . .

Is it important to be absolutely faithful to the Route - or is it the "spirit" of the Route that is important?

I.e. Should I try and cover every mile and every bend of the original Mother Road to get my experience or is it simply about crossing America in a car and driving through the countryside and small towns seeing the Americana that is seldom visible?

I had begun my journey with the latter being firmly the approach - but today spent quite a bit of time tearing off the Freeway whenever I spotted the little brown "Historic Route 66" signs and spent perhaps far too much time driving narrow one lane roads through the country at 35 mph.

Some of the sights and landscapes were beautiful and some of the little towns still had some character and the old buildings from the 30s and 40s - to the extent that I found myself getting quite addicted to "authentic" Route 66. That is until I met the shopkeeper - who pushed me back to thinking that it really is about the journey across a massive country and the experience one gets while journeying across this nation.

After amassing my fair share of memorobilia, I continued to weave around small towns and creeks - including a visit to a very impressive Deli in Webb City Missouri which was built in 1931 to serve Route 66 and is still in pristine condition today. I sat at the counter in front of the original soda fountain and drank a "Lemon Phosphate" (basically fresh lemonade with soda) and took some photos of the place which was like walking into a time machine.

Then off to Kansas for a brief visit before crossing the State Line into Oklahoma and into rain and The Will Roger's Turnpike. The Will Roger's Turnpike is not apparently named after the former Labour and SDP MP in Britain, but after some American celebrity - but it took me fairly swiftly to Tulsa where I am stopping for the night after what has been a long day in the saddle - around 9 hours of driving with very few and short stops.

Tomorrow will see me cross Oklahoma and through to Texas. I have two vows - one is not to listen to depressing music in the morning, no matter how good it is and second is to avoid dining at McDonald's for the third day running.

I know I am in America, but a day without the Blues and attempting to consume something resembling a fresh green vegetable will be a good thing . . .

Day Four - Morning across Missouri

A slow start getting out of St. Louis and a hunt for a gas station before hitting empty.

Then off on the original road for Route 66 along Gravois Avenue / Road....

Then I-44 for a while and on to original Route 66 again.

Sounds were all Blues this morning - Mance Lipscomb, Clifton Chenier (zydeco music from New Orleans) and more Lightnin' Hopkins - plus some Willie Dixon, Roosevelt Sykes and more...

Off the beaten track and you see another America - one without Wi-fi, without Interstate Highways and one without much progress in the last 50 years.

Made a stop at a "Country Store" in the heart of Southern Missouri to get gas and take a nature break. A lot of men round here with sleeveless shirts, baseball caps and tattoos - all seamingly by the name of Earl and Floyd... And they are very scary in their pick up trucks complete with gun racks....

As you drive down Route 66 you see the villages and towns that once prospered from this rich artery until Eisenhower introduced the Interstate Highway system having been inspired by the German Autobahn system he had seen in the war. Straight, wide lines across the country making travel speedy and direct - but leaving lots of small communities without an income from gas stations, diners and motels.

Lots of great American place names in Missouri - Eureka - surely the town of constant discovery and Doolittle Missouri - a natural landing pad for the indolent were two favourites.

I notice that many towns feel the need for a strapline - some of which are so bereft of imagination it is shocking. Lebanon, Missouri is subtitled "Friendly people, friendly place".... Just like the real Lebanon in the Middle East - except this one doesn't have the Israelis leaning on it all the time....I assume the people of Lebanon, Missouri refer to themselves as "Lebanese"?

A quick stop for some McCholesterol at lunchtime outside Joplin and then it's just 18 miles to my first waypoint in Kansas - the state that has just 13 miles of Route 66 before it heads into Oklahoma.... And my road then takes me to Tulsa...

Day Three - Chicago to St Louis

After next to no sleep and a slightly thick head from WoodChuck cider mixed with Pencloxin Trihydrate and tabasco sauce . . . I was in a shaky condition when the door was knocked and my astronomically expensive breakfast arrived. . .

Judging by the price of the eggs they serve in the "W" Hotel I estimated that the full chickens must retail for around $1.7 million . . . and the pig that provided the excellent bacon would be around $2.9 million for the whole thing.

Even the coffee was priced as though it had been brought from Columbia that morning by 14 year old mountain virgins from Alta Rica . . . although to be honest it tasted like crap.

Struggling through breakfast, shower and packing saw me leave the hotel and head to the Hertz lot to pick up my gleaming Hummer which would be awaiting my arrival. WRONG!

"No Hummer in stock sir."

Bollocks.

"Would you like the smaller Hummer sir?"

No, certainly not. Do I look like a girl?

Time for some quick thinking and decision making . . . the Shelby Mustang convertible (A brute capable of devouring whole chunks of tarmac with one light touch of the pedal) or a regular Mustang hard top but with GPS Satellite Navigation . . .

For once sense grabbed a hold of me and stopped me in my tracks. The choice was simple: drive a guided missile while map reading and end up spending the rest of my days driving in circles in Alaska or rely on a computer to steer me across America in comparative safety. . .

A regular Mustang hard top in candy red was promptly delivered and after much bitching on my part about the Hummer, a mighty discount was promptly offered on the Mustang and I was off.

To be fair, the regular Mustang is a bit of a brute anyway - the difference is that the Shelby version has been convicted for GBH, while the regular Mustang has just been cautioned for being rowdy. . .

Out on to Interstate 55 which has replaced much of the original Route 66 through Illinois (although there are regular signs along the way reminding that this road is the original "Historical Route 66") and off to St Louis in Missouri.

Music for this stage was:

Back to Black - Amy Winehouse. Excellent start to the day with a 21st century take on the 60s RnB / Detroit Soul sound from a mouthy Jewish girl from London. Fantastic.

The Very Best of Boubacar Traore - the bluesman from Mali. Great rhythms settled me into the clacking sound of the tires as they ran over road seams on the highway while cruise control allowed me to sit back and enjoy the ride.

Buddha Bar IX - disc one. Cool ambient lounge sounds to take my to the South of Illinois and clear my head of all crap before arriving in . . .

Springfield, Illinois. Population 110,000. Home to two of the greatest ever Americans . . .

Abraham Lincoln and Homer Simpson.

Strangely, while there is a whole host of memorials and historical sights dedicated to Mr. Lincoln, including his original home, there is little to celebrate Springfield's other great son - Homer.

I looked high and low for Mr. S, but i guess he was out of town promoting his new movie. In the meantime, Springfield is The Simpsons. Decidedly small town with little to commend it other than the fact that it is decidedly small town and has little to commend it.

It has a feel that more rural parts of the USA have - of superficial rectitude but underlying torpitude. There is a sadness about these towns. You can't help thinking of American Beauty and how behind the neat hedges and well cut lawns there is pain and angst ruling lives of certain direction and lack of escape.

And then there are the poor - who actually number many people in America, despite the nation's wealth - with a McJob to cling on to and then shopping at 7 Eleven and collecting food stamps.

All the more depressing when you can still see by the roadside the evidence of prosperity and hope that once existed in these towns 50 years ago with brightly coloured diners and stores with glowing neon, now faded to dust colours and rust and the neon lights long broken and never replaced. But people still plant the Stars & Stripes in their gardens or on the porches and continue you to believe in the Apple Pie American Dream, although the apples are now made with artificial additives and preservatives and the pastry is made in Korea or perhaps Mexico. . .

I "dined" at the Springfield McDonald's and watched a woman in front of me order enough food to have kept me "nourished" for a week - all pure grease - and then sit down and smother everything she ordered with ketchup and mayo and launch in.

It was almost enough to put me off my lunch - but not quite. I ate my burger in silence while contemplating small town America and keeping a watchful eye on the car to make sure it didn't get ripped off while I was busy furring my arteries with McCholesterol.

St Louis was less than 100 miles and the journey was easy - aided by the rich voice of Blues legend Lightnin' Hopkins . . . which saw me cross the Mississipi and leave Illinois and enter Missouri - and St Louis, the Gateway to the West. Famous for its arch, its baseball (The St Louis Cardinals) and its beer (Anheuser Busch, makers of Bud, has its home here).

I was taken to dinner in "The Hill" - a district of St Louis which is populated by the Italian immigrant community. Immigrant district always spells good food and I was not disappointed here.

My hosts were a business associate and her family and we gathered round a table and ate one of St Louis's specialities - Toasted Ravioli.

This dish was apparently discovered by accident and involves regular meat filled ravioli being coated in parmesan and breadcrumbs then deep fried. After deep frying they are drained, dusted with parmesan and parsley and then grilled until crispy. They are then served with a marinara sauce - delicious!!!!

St Louis is a nice "clean" city with simple street layout and pleasant architecture. The locals are into beer, music, food and baseball - the last being incredibly important. Crossing through this city - "The Gateway to the West" gives a sense of anticipation for what lays ahead on the planes of Kansas and Oklahoma. . .

Next stop Tulsa - and hopefully some great music in the tradition of the Okies - and in particular JJ Cale . . .