TRAVEL MEMOIR | PARASOL PUBLICATIONS
A Rock ’n’ Roll Roadtrip To Nowhere
Searching for the meaning of life in our van
My wife and I were on a rock and roll adventure in a kitted out Chevrolet Astra van. We’d driven from LA, where we had stopped to watch Todd Rundgren perform in the Hollywood Hills, passed through a thunderous night storm using only the Force to navigate blackened highways obliterated by a raindrop-splattered windshield, and finally came to a stop outside a gas station somewhere along the 10.
The next morning, when we woke up and stuck our heads out the side-door we didn’t really know where we were.
What we did know was that we had to hit the road again if we were to get anywhere at all.
The trip had been planned from the UK and our points of reference were practically non-existent.
We had nowhere in particular we wanted to see.
Sure, we recognized some names: Phoenix, Tucson…and others, known through songs mostly (and my knowledge of American football) but that was about it. There was no real reason to visit any of them.
So why go to Arizona at all?
Good question.
