There are few things in the world that I care less about than cars.
But when I started seriously thinking about doing a bit of a road trip in the US, and realising that it would cover a huge chunk of Route 66, I imagined that we’d do the journey in something appropriate at least. Something different from the Toyota Aygo or Ford Fiesta hires that I use for cutting about semi-rural Scotland. I’ve listened to enough American music, seen too much US TV or movies, and read plenty American novels to know that we should be driving a Chrysler, a Pontiac, a Cadillac, a Chevy, a Dodge, a Mustang or the Lincoln thingy that I saw earlier in the trip:
When Ali arrived in Chicago on Thursday night, I had pretty much settled that we’d get some sort of Buick. It sounded American and has the additional virtue of being the subject of a Bob Dylan song. Yep, that was the one. Definitely….
Reader: we shat it.
Instead, we were seduced by the Alamo car hire guy into getting a massive Jeep. The prospect of 30 degree-plus heat every day, just AM radio for entertainment, and a paper map for 10 days was too grim for pampered man-children like us. We opted for state of the art air conditioning, Bluetooth audio, Sat Nav and deep coffee cup holders. Lewis and Clark would have done the same.
snowinginspace 