T-Shirt Road Trip

Every t-shirt tells a story, and we’re collecting them, one mile at a time.

May 30th, 2009

Mystic Wagon — Prescott, Jerome, Sedona and Fort Verde, AZ

Most of what I know about the southwest, I learned from watching The Bugs Bunny Road Runner Hour as a kid. Who am I kidding, more like as an adult. Strange how much of it holds up to my first-hand impression as I traveled from the blight that is Vegas to the cool elevations of Prescott, AZ (pronounced Preskit under penalty of being branded a soft-knuckled tourist). desteeredrockOnce the capital of the Arizona territory, Prescott is home to the infamous Whiskey Row, which took an overdue and much welcomed toll on this weary traveler. From there it was a windy road to the hillside mining town of Jerome and the bar stool of the newest Destee-Nation member, The Mile High Grill and Inn. If you’re ever there, stop in and say hello to Jet. She’s groovy.

The next day it was north through the valley to the towering red rocks of Sedona, where crystal merchants and ancient vortexes scheme against the non-believers. I wasn’t in town five minutes before that mystic wagon welcomed me. (more…)

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May 23rd, 2009

Not Your Father’s Vegas — Las Vegas, NV

Driving through the California desert west of Las Vegas, one wonders how anything could live here for a sustained period of time without turning all Kaliforniathanksforthememories on its nearest neighbor. But then you crest The Spring Mountains and there she is, Las Vegas, Nevada. A megalopolis of sprawl and glitz that has absolutely no business being there. The need to Sin away from one’s own backyard spawned this desert outpost in the thirties, and for a good forty years it seemed that Vegas had found its rightful place in Americana.

But something happened when Sinatra left town. The impeccable stylings of the original sins have have been replaced by the boorish celebration of all that is painfully obvious in America. This town may be a good place to spend 36 hours trying to erase a painful memory, but it’s no longer a place to shoot the cuffs and hang regal. I think The Rig and I are twenty years too late. Read on…

May 19th, 2009

Somewhere around Barstow — The edge of the desert, CA

Leaving California, on the open roadThe desert isn’t any place to mess around. The heat will turn your brain useless in a matter of minutes and no one is in the mood for fair skinned tourists with car problems. Sue doesn’t have AC and neither does The Streaker for that matter. Ever notice how vintage travel trailers resemble toasters? Anyone at HQ picking this up?

It’s too hot to drive with the windows up, but if I roll them down I’m a sweaty tangle under God’s mighty Conair-5000. It’s even too hot to listen to music so all I have is the mocking squeak from an ill-placed Styrofoam cooler. Better men than I have gone mad under lesser conditions. Luckily for me I found a shirt to make all these desert miles worth it. Read on…

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2009 USA Road Trip in Pictures