In 1982 my baby sitter, Barbara Sandback, took me to see Van Halen at the Tacoma Dome. The only thing I remember besides the smell of Aqua Net, vodka and bubble gum was Van Halen’s opening four seconds. A spandex clad David Lee Roth did a Flying Russian off a Marshall Stack and hit the stage on the first note of Running With The Devil. It takes a cool confidence in your ability to deliver the goods to start out any engagement with your best move. But Diamond Dave is exactly that kind of showman, and I’d like to think I am too, even if I do look creepy in spandex. That’s why we’re sticking to jeans and kicking off our 2009 Road Trip T-Shirt Parade with t-shirts from two of San Diego’s most storied establishments. Introducing East San Diego’s The Tower Bar and The Lancer’s of University Heights. Read on…

When I’m not in the nurturing bosom of Trailer Rancho, I’m exploring the vast ecosystem that is the San Diego dive-bar scene. This is a treacherous environment for anyone to navigate, let alone a guy who’s trying to make a living by taming it. This duty is made especially dangerous by the fact that the 6 AM happy hour is alive and well in SD, and that most owners like to meet with the sales schmucks when their bars open. I think they’re trying to weed out the weak. That and they enjoy watching men in khakis attempting to order mochas from a seasoned bartender whose bar mat is already soaked with gin by 7 AM. Read on…

Here is a little known fact they won’t be telling you at Camping World or your local KOA: When one lives in a travel trailer, one takes on the spacial proportions of a lumbering giant…. a giant without any regard for its own safety. Imagine a sleep-deprived Godzilla living in the architectural model of an Ikea Superstore, and you’ll start to get the picture. Take the other night. I attempt to get out of bed for a glass of trailer water and end up careening across the living room and smashing my  face into the stove. (Note that all of this takes place with me still technically in bed). Wounded, I lurch for the bathroom light which is ten inches away. I miss it. Thus beginning a tangled tale which involves a few well known laws of physics, some undiagnosed Tourette’s and a head wedged between a toilet and what I’m considering an armoire. All of this and my feet never leave the bed.