It was early last June when I received a phone call from my friend Jennie. She was just offered a job working on a new TV show out in LA. She’d have to move there for a three-month gig. Initially I was quite sad that she’d be moving so far away but I immediately perked up when she said those two words we’re all dying to hear: Road Trip! She was going to stop working a week before she is due in LA and we’d drive across the country. I was incredibly excited by this news. I grew up outside Boston, spent my time at Haverford, ventured a whole mile down the street after college to teach at the Baldwin School, and am now back in Boston working on my Ph.D. The furthest west I’d traveled was Chicago. This was all to change. I was going to be entering the world of Jack Kerouac and all of the other road-trip pioneers. With my Mapquest directions and some helpful hints from fellow alums who have partaken the roads, I was ready. Everyone laments how he or she has always wanted to drive cross-country but never have the time or the right reason for it. I was going to be one of the few, the proud, the brave, the adventurers!

I flew down to Philadelphia to meet Jennie and some of her friends (Quick Bi-Co connection: Jennie’s mom is a professor at Bryn Mawr College and Jennie spent part of her youth attending summer camp at Haverford). Eric Jacobstein ’02 happened to be in Philadelphia that night and he attended the sendoff dinner. The night ended early. There was lots of sleep to be had and even more driving the next day. We woke up bright and early, packed up the car and headed off for LA!

The route we took was chosen very carefully. We had to hit Graceland, the Grand Canyon, and Vegas. We left on a Saturday morning and were due in Los Angeles the next Saturday night. Everything else was up in the air. We decided that the longest day of driving should be the first. My aunt made me swear that I would at least drive through Shenandoah National Park in Virginia. Thank god I did. The overpass allowed us to see for what seemed like hundreds of miles of rolling hills. The local insects, on the other hand, did not want to let us eat our picnic lunch. As we have both seen most of Virginia and the day was long, we just kept on driving. Our one savior was Cracker Barrel. It’s hard to believe just how many Cracker Barrels there are in the South and they all look exactly the same. At least with McDonald’s each restaurant has a touch of originality, maybe an extra-large play area, or as we later saw in eastern California, an old railroad car as the seating area. But each and every Cracker Barrel was exactly the same (we stopped at so many for the ultra-clean bathrooms and the books on tape that you can return at the next convenient Cracker Barrel store). Night fell and we finally found a Comfort Inn that wasn’t filled around 10:30 p.m. Not too bad for our first day.

We rolled into Memphis just in time for dinner the next night. I loved Memphis. What a great city. It was a Sunday night but Beale Street was alive and kicking more than Puritan Boston ever could (unless the Red Sox finally win the World Series). Jennie and I just strolled down the street, beers in hand courtesy of the outdoor bars, listening to the great blues and jazz. Everyone seemed so friendly and without a care in the world. Especially the llama and sheep just hanging out in a yard attached to a bar.

Graceland was the ultimate holy land for us lovers of pop culture. These people were mad for Elvis. We (luckily) got a room at a nearby hotel where the pool was shaped like a guitar and Elvis movies played 24 hours a day. At Graceland we met someone who was there on his 103rd trip. He tried to convince us that Elvis was once a spy for the CIA. I was waiting for him to share his other conspiracy theories but we got too caught up in checking out Elvis’s private jet. I didn’t want to leave but we had 500 miles to drive that day. By the third day we knew to call up hotels an hour before we were going to arrive to make sure we had rooms for the night. It’s surprising how hotels in the middle of nowhere fill up so fast.

I was dreading having to drive so much during a day. My frequent trips from Boston to Philly are only 350 miles but they seem like the longest six hours of my life. Jennie and I were both shocked by how easy it was to amuse ourselves in the car. She had just gotten a CD changer so it wasn’t necessary to dig through the CD collection every hour. Music selection did provide a small bit of controversy. The only music we really seemed to both like was Britney Spears or Styx. But there’s only so much “Oops!…I Did It Again” and “Come Sail Away” one can take. So we turned to books on tape. These made the driving completely effortless.

The most interesting town in America has to be in Amarillo, Texas. About 400 miles away we started seeing signs for Big Texans Steak Ranch, home of the free 72-ounce steak. Luckily we rolled into town just in time for a late lunch. For you “Simpsons” fans out there, Big Texans is the inspiration for the great trucker episode. Everything was huge: the tables, the stuffed deer hanging up on the wall, the menus, the beer, and the food. If you’re up to the challenge you get to sit on a small stage and attempt to devour the biggest steak imaginable along with all the side dishes and a nice little salad just for kicks. Your prize if you conquer the beast: a free meal. The rest of the poor folk who can’t handle the meal win the prize of paying $55 just for the experience. Sadly, no one was trying to eat the steak when we were there but the friendly waitress told us the night before a 16-year-old was able to perform the feat in 54 minutes. Also in Amarillo was a water tower slanted just like the famous tower in Pisa and Cadillac Ranch, a modern-art display comprising a row of old Cadillacs buried hood-first into the ground. Only in Texas.

As we continued throughout the Southwest the landscape changed dramatically. I was accustomed to the hills and trees of the Northeast; Oklahoma and New Mexico were completely different. The desert was beautiful and seemed to expand forever. We finally made it to Santa Fe ahead of schedule because of the time changes. Santa Fe was the most beautiful city I’ve been to in America. The adobe architecture blended into the land so well. Even though the mercury creeped into the high 90s, the complete lack of humidity made the weather so peaceful. We found a great authentic restaurant in the middle of the Plaza, Santa Fe’s historical district. As we dined, Jennie excitedly wrote me a note on her napkin. Sitting next to us was none other than Michael Gross, the dad from “Family Ties.” We weren’t even in LA yet and we had our first celebrity sighting. I called almost everyone I knew with this news.

We reached the Grand Canyon two days after leaving Santa Fe with a nice stop in Flagstaff. The heat during the day made hiking almost unbearable but we managed to trek about a mile and a half into the canyon. I woke up at four the next morning to catch the sunrise as Jennie slept, obviously worn out and nervous about her new job. The sunrise tour guide was a very friendly man from Louisiana who took us to the best outlook sight to see the sun creep above the canyon rim, lighting up the sky with the most gorgeous colors. He warned us not to go too close and shared a few gory stories about recent deaths at the canyon. Not what I wanted to hear, but it did make me feel a bit more adventurous.

Jennie and I came too close to running out of gas on the drive to Vegas. We stopped in a tiny town about 10 miles from the highway near the Nevada border. Finally, we found the only gas pump in a 50-mile radius. The man hanging out at the station, while friendly, also intimidated us a bit with his two guns securely buckled to his pants. I don’t think he was used to seeing too many East Coasters and I have never felt more out of place. We filled the tank and headed to Vegas, the one city we splurged in. The Paris Hotel had a beautiful rooftop pool that just screamed paradise. I hung out at the slots for a bit, enjoying the complimentary drinks while Jennie checked out the shopping. We dined at a Wolfgang Puck Asian Fusion restaurant. The nightlife in Vegas put Memphis to shame. Everyone was there for one reason: complete debauchery. I would be a lost soul if I stayed there for more than one night.

Jennie and I stayed in our fair share of cheap motels along the way. No matter what chain it was, they all served the same two cereals as part of their continental breakfast: Raisin Bran and Fruit Loops. After a week of this I was thrilled to be able to totally stuff myself at Bally’s all-American breakfast buffet in Las Vegas. Cheese blintzes, biscuits and gravy, grits, and smoked salmon never tasted better. There was definitely no need to stop for lunch that day.

About four-and-a-half hours from Las Vegas, I saw the ocean. We did it! Seven days and almost 3,000 miles after we’d started, we were in sunny Los Angeles, Jennie’s new home for the next three months. I was so excited for her, though I secretly hoped she would hate it and fly back to the East Coast with me that night. Jennie was going to stay with a friend from high school in West Hollywood, who had us over for a small dinner party that night. I knew that I did not belong in LA. Out of the seven dinner guests, I was the only one who didn’t work in the entertainment industry. There were two producers, one actress, two entertainment lawyers, a writer, and myself, a geologist. Dinner conversation was about the parties and nightlife of LA. Hmm…maybe I could get used to all the celebrities and fun of Los Angeles. Sadly, I had to fly back that night but I’m sure I’ll spend some more time there.

Driving cross-country was one of those life-altering experiences everyone should try once in his or her lifetime. I had a real reason to go, but anyone could take a week or two off and try it. And, surprisingly, it was not too expensive. Even with the splurge in Vegas I spent less than $700. The only chain restaurant we ate in was Cracker Barrel, but that was an experience in itself. We found small restaurants in the cities and towns we passed through. What I treasured most was getting off the highway and into all the small towns, especially those lining Route 66. The Americans in the South and West are much friendlier, much more peaceful than those I encounter in the busy Northeast. The regional food, the amazing museums, the fact that you could see stars at night, all of it was awe-inspiring. Maybe when Jennie leaves LA we’ll have to take the northern route home. I’m sure Michael Gross vacations in Montana.