So I'm preparing to go on a 63 hour(rt) Greyhound trip through the frozen landscape of northwest Canada. I'm very excited due to the purpose of the trip, but the mode of travel gives me pause. When I was younger I would try and take a Greyhound trip every year. It was all very romantic to me - the open road, being alone, sony walkman, stopping at dodgy diners, never knowing who was going to sit next to you and what their stories would be. However, somewhere along the course of years and events, I developed a "thing" about being a passenger, probably due to being a passenger in too many accidents. I also woke up one day and realized that Greyhounds don't have seatbelts? Someone tell me why - I want to know. The romantic notions are still there, now just coated with a light dusty film of irrational fear. I hoping to brush some of that film off this trip - we'll see. I'm also going to work on my "sleeping on the bus" skills, which I have never seemed to master. Maybe I'll try one of those U-shaped travel pillows and cover my head with a blanket so no one sees me drooling on my shirt. Let it be clear, I chose this mode of travel over the option of flying...I have many "good" reasons for this. My wife thinks I'm crazy, maybe she's right.
Related to my conflictedt love of long-distant bus travel, my thing for:
- Airstream trailers
- Old-style country music
- Vintage cowboy shirts
- and old flashy signs on seedy motels, bowling alleys, and other gems of American culture
Link: Sacramento Signs [via Flickr]




I love weekends...you can decide not to get dressed, sleep in, make exotic food, veg out with HGTV, go on a cleaning frenzy, organize a closet, write in your journal, create a radio station just for you...listen - it's on whenever you are.