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....