I've always wanted to travel overland, all the way across America; from coast to coast. It's been one of those things I've wanted to do, back from a time very soon after I started putting together lists of things I wanted to do.
A recent-ish renewal in my fondness for long-distance trains and the splendid value of Amtrak's tickets helped coalesce a rather terrifying, high speed and possibly risky dash into the filthy, damaging heart of a corrupt, all conquering and sneering nation fell away into something a little more sedate. As someone who, in every sense, is in their mid-40s, I could dispense with any notion of having to do things with a rocking or rolling bent. My planning energies squarely focused on mail ordering travel towels and currency cards to go with my supremely comfortable travel trousers, with elasticated waist, which I bought last year while on an unfeasibly wet holiday in North Wales. Was I going for a pseudo bohemian course of sensory deprivation, broiling roads, gritty blues clubs, cacti and hippy camps? Err, no.
True, I did book cheap hostel accommodation, but then I booked all my accommodation,tickets and the day trip to Alcatraz almost a year in advance. Each time I thought along rocking or rolling lines, something pulled me back. Which didn't matter one iota; I missed things, but I didn't waste much time doing so and was able to soak a load in in the meantime.
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