In the summer of 2002 I spent a month driving from New York to Los Angeles, through the (mainly) southern states of the USA
It's a trip I'd highly recommend. We saw, among other things, the Blue Ridge mountains (which made this John Denver fan-girl particularly happy) and cowboys and the White House and cave paintings and Graceland and sea-lions and deserts and beaches and the Mississippi river, and no bears. (Plenty of warning signs about bears, though.) We line danced in Nashville and sang karaoke in New Orleans and sky dived in Las Vegas, and almost drowned in a place I can't remember when our tents got blown away in a massive thunderstorm. Oh, and our van broke down in Death Valley. Twice.
From Nashville to Memphis to New Orleans, to others, this song was playing EVERYWHERE. Irritatingly, it was never released on an album which means it's virtually impossible to get hold of. Which is a shame, because I think it's pretty ace. And after two seconds of listening to it, I'm back in that white van, trundling along an American highway, wondering what adventure will come next.
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