I love road trips.  They are all about doing many of the things that I love – bullshitting with friends, listening to music and napping.  I have been on many in my lifetime, some with family others with friends and even a few animals mixed in.  Each one has its own feel and there is always at least one memorable thing that happens.  In addition to that there are opportunities to see new places and meet new people… then make fun of them.  Ahhhhh the possibilities are endless with road trips – they are an affirmation that there are a ton of freaks all over the US and that I am glad that I live where I do.  If I was not employed at the salt mine I would love to take a few months and bounce around the US with some friends and see things in the remote corners of the country that usually remain hidden (and in some cases should remain hidden).  Almost every state I have visited or driven through has a memory -  lets take a ride down road trip memory lane state by state.

Illinois – “Where the fuck are my shoes?”

As a child I hated waking up just as much as I do now.  So picture this – I’m about 12 years old and my Dad and I are planning a trip to Peoria, IL to participate in a 5K race at Bradley University (where my brother went to college).  He woke me up at the butt-crack of dawn and herded my sleep deprived little body into the car and I was comatose in the passenger seat immediately.  After a couple hours of driving we stopped at a McDonald’s to get some food before the race and he prodded me awake.  “Get your shoes on” he said “we’re going to get some Mickey D’s”.  In my sleepy haze I scanned the floor of the car for my shoes… not there.  We looked more… nothing.  I was on the way to a race that I didn’t have any shoes for (did I mention I’m half Polish?)  My dad had a mini-meltdown in the car and he dragged me into McDonalds and I enjoyed my sausage mcmuffin in my socks.  At that point i realized I was worse than the barefooted shoeless yokels that inhabit most of Southern Illinois, because I should have known better.  After that embarrassment I still was without footwear on my way to the race.  As a last ditch effort we resorted to the only option that was open at 7AM on a Saturday in Eureka, IL – Woolworth.  My dad bought me a pair of those white Keds that were probably women’s shoes and certainly were not meant for running – but I did run and I finished only to set up one final humiliation.  We walked into Chili’s for lunch before we left and the girl that seated us had my exact same shoes on – Fuck my life.

Texas – “Where the fuck is the Cat?”

Later in life I moved from Chicago to San Diego with my girlfriend, our dog and our cat (and all of our earthly possessions) in a Jeep Cherokee and a U-haul trailer.  We stopped after our second day of travel in Amarillo, Texas.  Amarillo is such a weird city – it is basically an enlarged truck-stop with a few shitty houses scattered along the desolate arid landscape.  We were exhausted and unloaded our necessities in the hotel and immediately went to bed.  I vaguely remember my girlfriend getting up in the morning to let the dog out and coming back into bed.  We awoke the next morning and were getting ourselves together to hit the road until we realized we were missing something… the cat.  We tore apart the room searching but the cat was gone.  Altogether we delayed our exit for over four hours looking for her – to no avail.  In the end I reasoned with her that we would never find the cat and we should just go.  I lied and said that the cat would probably be picked up by some friendly people and taken into their home.  I knew though that cat was street pizza at best, coyote food at worst.  The name of the cat you ask?  Gypsy… go figure.

Pennsylvania – “Where the fuck is the piss?”

My family made a mistake in Pennsylvania that I will never make again – eating at a fast food restaurant that is actually connected to a gas station.  Sweet Baby Jesus never intended Taco bell meat and a beef jerky displays to be that close to each other.  As we were finishing our sumptuous psuedo-Mexican feast my Dad went to the restroom.  As he was coming back to our seat he pulled me aside and told me to check out the guy with the sign in the bathroom and read what the guy had written.  I was perplexed.  I was half thinking that I was going to see one of the creepy guys who hands out mints and axe body spray but my Dad did not prepare me for what I did see.  I turned the corner in the restroom and did one of those “I’m-not-looking-but-I-am-looking-to-read-your-fucked-up-sign” kind of glance over to his crudely written cardboard sign.  It read “CLEAN PISS $40″.  As I walked to the urinal I pondered why anyone would pay $40 for piss then I realized that he was selling to the truckers coming through for their drug tests.  What a statement for free market economics.  Where there is a need a market will form… wow… USA!  USA!  USA!

Throughout the year I will be going state by state chronicling my more ridiculous road trip experiences… stay tuned!  Do you have any interesting road trip stories?