There is nothing quite like sleeping on a floor and then driving 500 miles to make your neck feel like you were a victim of a vicious pile drive. However, the drive from Chico to Portland was surprisingly relaxing and enjoyable. The weather this morning in Chico made my decision to abruptly head north toward a cooler climate remarkably easy. Ninety-degree weather at ten in the morning practically drags you out of bed and makes you want to be miles away before you make the heat activated decision to stay inside under the shelter of air conditioning until nightfall. With that said, my Chico experience was nothing short of enjoyable and worthwhile. The World Famous Madison Bear Garden, or “The Bear,” provided the three essential to any quality evening out: victuals, beverage, and entertainment. Flip of a coin, tails never fails, and your drink’s half off. The clock strikes ten and your food orders are a whopping $1.99… except when they’re free because you know the chefs. Do you even realize how good a Barbeque-sauce cheeseburger and Chili-cheese nachos are when you’re starving and you’re eating dinner at a rustically decorated bar where the pints are a dollar? That’s right, “It’s pretty bomb,” and far superior to the enchiladas I had at Burrito Boy in Eugene this afternoon. You can’t win ‘em all, but you can try.

Unfortunately I was unable to stop at all the tourist Mecca’s between Chico and the Oregon border. The Salmon Viewing Plaza in Red Bluff was one tasty treat that the heat kept me from enjoying. And sadly Yreka’s Historic Downtown didn’t meet the cut either, but both made the “places to go before I die” list which will be considerably long by the end of this trip I imagine.

The border between California and Oregon not only separates the Golden State from the Beaver state, but it also separates two significantly different terrains. As you ascend from the minor mountain range on the Oregon side of the border the color green replaces the color gold on all the hills, mountains and valleys. The hills and valleys of California are grass and crop filled, relatively bland landscapes, that strangely enough all look alike. You could be in Gilroy, Modesto, Lodi, or somewhere between Chico and the Oregon border and I guarantee that the highway you drive on will be in the middle of some fields, and the fields will be in the middle of some golden hills… with maybe a mountain in the distance. Now Oregon, on the other hand, has trees covering their hills and forests in the valleys. Johnny Appleseed, Johnny Firseed, Johnny Spruceseed, and Johnny Cederseed had a tree planting pow-wow in the Pacific Northwest and neglected to include California. The wooded landscape makes for a pleasant vibe from Ashland to Portland.

My day comes to an end in a comfortable resting place. The boys in Portland have an evening game tomorrow, so a day in Portland sounds reasonable at this juncture. Apparently tomorrow is “Thirsty Thursday” at the soccer stadium, so I may have to go watch warm ups and relax for a while. For now, its time to rest, because sitting on your cakes, in a car, for the better part of a day, doing nothing physically what so ever, is far more tiring of an activity than it logically should be. Good night, and good luck.

The money has been made, the car’s been tuned, the words of Hunter S. Thompson, Karouac, and Steinbeck are fresh in the mind, and the applicable portions of “Worst Case Scenario’s Survival Handbook” have been duly memorized. The florescent orange line traces the highways, byways, back ways, and sideways of America’s roadways creating a big, odd shaped, jagged-edged loop, circumnavigating North America with no real beginning or end, just a whole lot of in-between. A geographical “connect-the-dots,” if you will, between metropolises, museums, monuments, mountains, music, national parks, ballparks, Chan Ho Parks, battlefields, landmarks, coastlines, bars, restaurants, diners, and friends.

Approximately: 10,716 miles in 60+ days, consuming 383 gallons of gas, while touching 36 states, and eating a hell of a lot of barbeque and pie.

In the next two months I will see the sun set over the Rockies and rise across the Atlantic. I’ll tread the battlefields of the Civil War in Georgia and stroll the streets of the Civil Rights Movement in Birmingham. I’ll boogie with the King in Graceland and Walk the Line with Cash at Sun Studios in Memphis. Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland, Country Music Hall of Fame in Nashville, Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, Experience Music Project in Seattle. The Windy City, The Big Apple, The Big Easy, Bean-town, The Mile High City, The City That Never Sleeps, The City of Angeles, The City of Brotherly Love, Music City, Motown.

The things I see, the people I meet, the places I go, the music I listen too, the hurricanes I run from, the beaches I lie on, the street I walk and the food I eat make up this trip. There is me and the road and a whole lot of country to look at. Well, I’m gone.