Highway is a Life, I Wanna Ride it All Night Long

     Life on the road is a far cry from the comforts of a nice house in a nice part of town with nice neighbors. Life on the road is not nice. It takes a lot out of you. It can chew you up and spit you out if you don't adapt. It's not nice, but I was sick of nice. I wanted an adventure. A dirty, smelly, dangerous adventure. Boy, did I get what I wanted! But I wouldn't want it any other way. I've already started to conform to this new lifestyle, and I have to say, I like it.

Nope, life on the road is nowhere near this hip, or sexual.

     The thing you don't realize about a road trip like this is that your car becomes not only your mode of transportation, but also your closet, dining room, staging area, and in rare instances when you're in the middle of nowhere and a plastic bottle is handy, your bathroom. Take your life, and all the places that accomodate it, then compress them into a 2-door, 4 cylinder coupe. Oh yeah, and then halve that, because there's two of you traveling in this mobile apartment.

     

     Everything becomes a process. You finally make camp for the night, are enjoying the space and open air outside of the car, and realize you forgot to get your spoon out of the "gear bag." Open the car door, move the bag of dirty laundry to the left, the backpack full of electronics to the right, and throw the tote bag full of maps and books into the dirt because its just really been annoying the shit out of you all day. 

Here, jam this in your back seat.

     Success, gear bag located! Unzip it, dig past the cook set, the rain poncho, the windproof lighter, and there it is - the utensil bag! Open the plastic bag, shift the tongs out of the way, shove the spatula down farther, and toss the ketchup packets. Finally, you've reached the goal of your search, the spoon, which will allow you to enjoy baked beans like a human, and not a bear scooping them into its mouth with its paw. Walk back to camp, and prepare to enjoy....

     ...until you realize you need a fork and knife for your steak.

Newsflash---Mythological "Small-town America" found!

     I could hardly believe it, but I've found something in my travels I thought to be a legend. Something lost to the pages of history long ago, much like the fabled continent of Atlantis. Out there, away from the Wal-Marts and the Burger Kings, lies something so well hidden, many thought it extinct.

     Small-town America.

     It's real, everyone. I've seen it with my own eyes. At first, I thought it a trick, but no, it was there. Not the glorious mirage I thought at first, but tangible - concrete, wood, and glass.

This photo is not doctored, and taken today, 8/28/2010

     The spirit of Mayberry exists, and lives on in such places as Breezewood, PA, Sheffield, OH, and Manistique, MI. Driving down Main Street, you might see a kindly old man in bib overalls and a John Deere cap making his morning constitutional to the post office. Or perhaps you might espy little Janie Jones on the sidewalk, playing hopscotch, her braids flapping with each jump. Passing the old movie theater (usually The Majestic, but sometimes The Royal), you'll notice they turned it into a cute antique shop after it closed back in '86. The cops (or should I say, "cop") hangs out down at Irma's diner between patrols, and Mrs. McKeller is out on her porch every morning to make sure her red-white-and-blue bunting is hanging evenly.

The homeowner's association recommends at least three per each porch.

     It's a throwback, and an oddity to me, a child of suburban sprawl. To be honest, it made me a little nervous. Every smiling neighbor, every general store, I became more unsettled. I was convinced I had wandered into a Twilight Zone episode. At any moment, these Middle-Americans might turn, eyes glazed over, and haul me off to be sacrificed to their corn god. I searched frantically for something familiar... a Taco Bell, a 7-11, anything owned by a good old-fashioned corporation. Safety lie beneath their fluorescent lights and neon signs. Thankfully, once I got close to any interstate, my old friends welcomed me with open arms. Nice, homogeneous, corporate arms. 

Ahh, sweet relief!

      Soon, the corporations will expand their influence even farther, and these small towns will be swallowed up and the locations of the former Community Halls will now be toilet aisles in a Home Depot. The fudge shoppes will be gone, replaced by the tweens' clothing section of a Target. What I thought was only a legend will eventually become just that. Except for in old episodes of The Andy Griffith Show. Which you can buy in the TV on DVD section of your local Best Buy.

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?

     After 5 nights of camping, I feel fairly confident in calling myself an expert. I've learned many things about the great outdoors already. One such thing being the assault of bugs you will most assuredly experience if you decide to camp.
    
     Imagine, you've been on the road all day long. Gritty dust lines your mouth, you haven't showered in two days, and your feet ache from miles of walking. After seeing several "CAMPGROUND FULL" signs, you finally roll into one with some openings. You pay the proprietor, and make your way to your patch of dirt. Give it another hour or so of finagling with the tent, moving things around in the car, and general life-on-the-road maintenance. Now, it's finally time to eat! You haven't had anything in your stomach but a banana and some yogurt since noon, and the sun is now kissing the horizon. Dig the propane grill out of the trunk, walk a half mile to fill a pot with water (then back), and fire it up as you wait patiently for the freeze-dried vegetables and noodles in a styrofoam cup your stomach growls for so demandingly. After 15 minutes or so, the water's boiling! The sun has since sunk below the horizon, and you're looking forward to enjoying your meal by the glow of your fluorescent lantern. After peeling back the paper lid of your cup, you carefully pour the boiling water in, re-cover it, and then patiently wait another 5 minutes for the water to do its thing. Your mouth waters, your stomach growls, and your hands shake in anticipation. It's time! You tear the paper lid off the rest of the way in a frenzy, fling it to the side without a second thought, and descend like a bird of prey toward your noodles. And then...

     *plop*

      A big, fat, hairy, disgusting moth flies right into your cup. It's wings flutter as it tries futilely to escape the hot water. It twitches fruitlessly a few more times and then remains still. The assault has begun.

"Hi, can I get a table for two, non-smoking, please?"

Moths swarm the lantern, flopping off of it, onto the table, into your face, down your shirt, up your shorts, etc, etc, etc. You try fogging the area with the bug spray, but it's useless; the bugs could care less, and you're left coughing. You finally flee to the refuge of the tent, stomach unsatisfied, shaken up after the ordeal, just to escape the bugs. The devious, devious bugs.
     After a few days of the above, you learn to just accept your new insect friends. They're there, invitation extended or not. You take a shower, you look up, and you see a colony of spiders building a web metropolis directly over your head in the rafters. You wake up in the morning, and some unidentified bug has created a lovely egg sac right on the door of your tent. You go to the bathroom and some kind bloodsucker generously bites you on both asscheeks. Trust me, folks, if you go camping, the bugs are in charge. You're living in their world, and you're just lucky they don't decide to give you West Nile virus, or Yellow Fever.

Ghosts and Gamblin's

     It's been a couple days since I was in Gettysburg, but I still recall it vividly. I can't say I learned a lot about American history there, but I did learn that more so than Civil War memorabilia, haunted houses and ghosts seem to be a greater draw.

     I kid you not, on just about every street corner, spoooooky signs let you know that for a nominal fee, YOU can take the scariest, most hauntedest ghost tour you've ever been on. It seems Gettysburg is the most haunted place in America, and I never even knew it.

Lincoln would be so proud if he could see Gettysburg today!

     The other thing I learned about Gettysburg is that there is currently a huge debate raging about whether or not to allow casinos to be built. Some folks feel it would diminish the historical relevance of the town, and others feel it would produce lots of much-needed jobs in the area. The windows of every house you pass have (of course) red-white-and-blue political signs expressing their feelings on the matter, and opinions vary from one house to the next.

Robert E. Lee was defeated here.

     My opinion on the matter? People need jobs, get those casinos erected A.S.A.P.! It'll boom the economy, and turn Gettysburg into a thriving center of financial stability. Just take a look at what gambling did for Atlantic City... oh, wait...

American: A Nation Under Construction

     Greetings from the Cleveland State University campus! Wi-fi sure is a bitch to find, so despite our receding hairlines, JZ and I have gone "undercover" here to see what's up in Cleveland and tap into that internet goodness we're so addicted to.

     If there's one thing I've noticed so far on our journey, it's that this country's roads are constantly being repaired. I'd say 1 out of every 4 miles we've traveled has been a construction zone. Slack-jawed road workers, a stop sign in one hand, the other probing the depths of their nostrils, populate the landscape.

Working hard to keep America's byways moving!

      I don't mind traffic, especially since we've vowed to stay off interstates so we can see more of "America." But when there's a major log jam every 27 feet because six guys are standing around watching one other guy shuffle a shovel around in the dirt, it can indeed get frustrating. But hey, I can't complain, sitting there stationary gives me plenty of time to look at the many junkyards and mechanic shops that litter the landscape in greater detail. Apparently the only industry in western Pennsylvania is repairing old trucks.

     More entries to come, there's lots to tell about Gettysburg, Pittsburgh, and all the other various burgs we've come across!

Rocket Man

     Well, this is it. I'm about to head down to Cape May, where I'll be staying the night. JZ and I will be heading off in the morning, Gettysburg being our first planned stop. Packing everything became quite a pain. Space is apparently going to be a big issue. Believe it or not, a 2002 Chevy Cavalier isn't a cavernous maw in which to stow stuff. Fitting everything in the trunk is quite a game of Tetris.

"Ah shit, I forgot to pack the tent!"

     So, I bid a very fond farewell to NJ today...well, Ocean County, at least. I'm not sure when I'll be returning to the old homestead, but I trust my Xbox will be waiting patiently for my return. I'd like to express my feelings at the brink of this great journey with my favorite version of a classic song:

R.I.P. Rambler's Digest, 8/16/2010 - 8/19/2010

     Alas, poor Rambler's Digest, I knew it well. Poor bastard didn't even survive to the beginning of the road trip it was created to chronicle. Turns out my "original" title wasn't that original after all. When I initially came up with the name for this blog, I thought it was mildly clever and sort of catchy. Turns out it was, but somebody else had thought of it already. My extensive research into seeing if this name was indeed unused primarily consisted of Googling "Rambler's Digest," and seeing what came out the Google poop-chute. According to the search results, those two words were not paired sequentially anywhere on the internet. Success! Satisfied with the amount of work I put into making sure I was original, I rested on my laurels and proceeded to blog away.

I guess these would be comfortable to rest on...

     A few days later, and my powerful brain made the cognitive leap to try typing in "ramblersdigest.com." I thought, "Hey, maybe I'll buy the domain, make this all professional and shit." Nope. Clever as I was, someone was even cleverer...er. Naturally, it was a blog, about somebody's travels. A blog more attractive than mine, about more exotic places, and with it's own logo, for Pete's sake! I was crushed. Back to the drawing board, I suppose. I was stymied, though. "Roamer's Digest," maybe? Or "Rover's Digest"? No, that sounds like it would belong to a dog, which wouldn't be about much more than eating, shitting, and trying to lick himself (hey, maybe that would fit this blog...). I threw out those ideas. No more ripping off "Reader's Digest." There's got to be something else I can rip off for a clever name. Well, I'm going to be traveling across America...and I'm Frank, so... "Frank, America... America, Frank..." Hmmm... And then, from across the span of history, an obscure TV show called out to me. Love, American Style. It was a romantic-comedy anthology show that aired on ABC's 1970's equivalent of T.G.I.F. I've never even seen it, but it always stuck in my brain because I have great respect for TV shows with punctuation in the title.

Wait, where's the comma?

     So don't mourn my Rambler's Digest too much. I've got a new name, and this blog is going to be stronger, faster, wiser, and more sexually appealing than it's previous iteration. Plus!!!! I now own the domain frankamericanstyle.com, so I feel like I've finally "arrived." Join me here at our new home for all new adventures, Fridays at 8pm, only on ABC!

JZ's Steamy BM*

*BM stands for "Brooklyn Move-out," what were you thinking?

     The march toward departure continues on! I spent the night inside one of my favorite occasional mistresses, Brooklyn. The purpose of this visit, other than getting silly-drunk with friends, was to help JZ take the huge step of moving out of his apartment. After bumbling around the turnpike for a spell, we finally rolled into town yesterday afternoon. Most of Jon's stuff was packed up and ready to go, and we weren't picking up the rental truck till 11am the next morning, so we had the better part of 18 hours to get up to our usual inebriated hijinx.
     We like to be worldly when we get to the task of making idiots out of ourselves, so we went "intercontinental" with our bar-hopping. We started off at a place called Habana Outpost, which was pretty fantastic. They had cheap local beer, and probably the best Cuban sandwich I've ever had. That's high praise from a guy who's eaten more pork and ham than is probably advisable (an Israelite, I ain't).

Looks delicious!

     We probably would have stayed longer and ingested more swine, but we were sitting outside in the sun and it was approximately as hot as actual Havana, Cuba. So from there, we hoofed it over to a German beer garden. (See how I did that? "Hoofed?" Get it, 'cause I was talking about pigs? ... *sigh*) This place, Der Schwarze Kölner, was sparkling clean and sold some of the biggest beers I've seen outside of those weird tower things you see occasionally.

These cylinders of liquid will be inserted into my body.

     We hung out there for quite awhile, not only because it was cool, but also because it takes about 45 minutes to finish one of those gigantic steins. I was pleasantly surprised to see my friend and favorite Norwegian, Mathias, a talented musician and all-around great guy. Check out his website and music here: mathiastjonn.com. Thanks to him, I tried snus (a smokeless tobacco in a mesh pouch) for the first time, something I've been curious about for a while. All in all, I'd recommend it for the experience, but I doubt I'd do it again. It's pretty much like jamming a small teabag up into your gums while trying to keep your mouth from drying up like a dead leaf. I spit it in the toilet after about 5 minutes.

     The next stop on our tour brought us back to America, to a place called Moe's Bar & Lounge. The drinks were pricey and the lounge area was packed, so we decided to pick up a bottle of Jim Beam and keep the party going back at JZ's place. After polishing off most of that large bottle, things really devolved quickly, and I'll spare myself and others (but mostly myself) the embarrassment of all the gory details. Suffice it to say, I slept on a hardwood floor and woke up with one hell of a hangover and the requisite unremembered bruises. What a fantastic way to start off hauling someone's entire accumulation of possessions out of their domicile!

     It was hot and sticky out, my bagel with cream cheese was...rather unsettled in my stomach, and doing anything in Brooklyn can be a pain in the ass, but the move went well.

Dan's clearly ready for a day of physical labor.

     Jon didn't have much big stuff, it didn't take too long, and the general delirium of the night before hadn't worn off, so I was pretty giddy and laughing throughout most of the move. All in all, a great couple of days, and another big step closer to the trip. JZ and I are practically buzzing with the anticipation (well, that and all those German beers).

Preparations A-G

     A decade-old pipe dream is now soon to become a reality for me. This trip is something that's been talked about for so long, but no one actually believed it would ever happen. Kinda like when Rocky Balboa ended up really getting made...or the fourth Rambo...or The Expendables. Stallone may now resemble Cher, but you've got to admire his persistence if not his creepy new raccoon eyes.

Coming soon: Rhinestone - The Return!

 

 

 

     Anyway, you can't undertake a trip like this without at least a little planning (believe me, I've tried to do as little as possible). Much like dating, there's a certain amount of work that, no matter how little you wish to do it, you just have to suck it up and "Git-R-Done" (why?) if you want to have a good time. Sort of the transportation equivalent of going to see Charlie St. Cloud with your girlfriend in the hopes it might result in a BJ for you later. So, what back-breaking tasks have I busied myself with in order to get ready? Um...well, I paid someone else to fix my car for me. Yeah, that was no joke! I had to WALK a half mile to go pick up my car when it was done. Let's see, also I went up in the attic (which was uncomfortably warm, I'll have you know!) to get down the sleeping bags... OK, I didn't actually go up there yet - the ladder was heavy, and it at least looked uncomfortably warm up there. But I'm going to have to do it at some point, so that still kind of counts.

     Proving what a child of the 21st century I am, I'd have to say the majority of my actual preparations so far have been technology-related. I bought a GPS, which makes me feel important. Except I'm going to call it a "SatNav" like the fancy people in London do. I've bloated my iPod with even more songs that I'll probably forget are even on the thing. Hey, what can I say? I sleep better at night knowing the soundtrack to Car Wash is always right at the tips of my fingers. I started using an app on my Droid called Foursquare. Despite Apple's best advertising, I still immediately think of mozzarella sticks anytime I hear the term "app". Foursquare registers your location via satellite and allows you to "check-in" pretty much anywhere in the country. It lists everything from convenience stores and churches to bars and strip clubs. It keeps a record of everywhere you go at the exact time you were there. It's terribly chic, and hipsters everywhere probably use it constantly to let their friends know when they're at the liquor store buying another six-pack of Tecate.

1st result, Google image search: "hipster douche"

 You can share this info on facebook or wherever, but I figure I'll be magnanimous and spare everyone the delight of knowing when I had to pull over at a rest stop outside of Helena to take a shit after all that Arby's I ate back in Butte. The main reason I'll use Foursquare is for records, so I'll know what days I did what while on this trip. I'm pretty sure that's going to be vital information at some point. Yeah. Probably.

Welcome!

     In a few days, I'll be setting off on an epic road trip across this vast and varied country. No schedules, no deadlines, no limits. OK, "no limits" sounds corny and is perhaps a bit overblown. But Jon and I are indeed heading out with nothing on our itinerary other than adventure. It should be quite an amazing trip, and I eagerly look forward to sharing the stories and pictures with anyone who's interested.
     I'm going to do my best to make this blog engaging, and with some practice, perhaps more visually appealing once I get a little practice with this new-fangled blogging thingamajig (the default templates are rather bland). So please, once this is up and running, feel free to comment and interact. JZ and I will be out there on our own, and it is a most excellent thing that technology allows us to stay in contact with everyone.