My name is Gabe Johnson, and I’m the Lead T-Shirt Scout for Destee-Nation Shirt Co.

How in the world did I get this job? Good question. What could possibly qualify me to pilot four tons of 40 year old American metal across the blue highways of this great land in search of the pearls of Americana to bring them proudly to a larger stage, to the benefit of the very places themselves? What indeed.

Before this, I was an internet cowboy living in a fortified compound near Seattle, Washington. In my many lives before that, I was a start-up junkie, a fish broker, a minion, a number crunching primate, a minion again, a student, a third string athlete and a kid given low marks for not following directions. That last one is suspect. But that’s neither here nor there.

What is here and germane to this burning question is the startlingly true story of how I came to meet the man who gave me this job. That very person, my boss (a.k.a. T-Shirt Scout No. 1), says the attorneys won’t let me go into detail, but I can tell you it involved beer, taxidermy, expired Roman Candles (with report), and a red, half-spent gallon Jerry Can of high octane gasoline. That and several angry neighbors in their pajamas. True story.

With that behind us and your full confidence in my glove box, it’s time to look forward, over the hood and down the white line. Deep into the folds in the map and past the travel advisories doled out by the blue bloods at Frommers and the algorithms at CitySearch. I’ve got my hands at a solid ten and a loose two with my eyes peeled, scanning the horizon for signs of a road less traveled. I’m on the road gathering these local t-shirts for you the old fashioned way: by walking across the parking lot and through the front doors to meet the men women and wildlife that keep the beer cold and the smiles rolling on both sides of the counter. With the rubber side down and the canoe pointed firmly up-stream, I’ve got enough credit at HQ to keep me in trailer havens and t-shirt nirvana for a year.

So enough about me, let’s go.

My mission: To re-discover the sacred grounds that define the spirit of this fine country and bring back the scalps, the spoils of the road, the t-shirts. Bowling alleys and diners. Skating rinks and tackle shops. Taverns and cocktail lounges. Bars and grottos. Every one of their t-shirts tells a story, and I’m gonna tell ‘em, one mile at a time.

Yours,
Gabe

Start at the beginning: Passing the Torch—Sebastopol, CA