Coffee Mug of the Month: Road Buddy

The thrill of the refill. Twenty-four ounces of Scoutmaster juice.

This one is for Love’s Truck Stops. I’ve got another for Pilot and Flying J, ready to head cross-country again.



Coffee Mug of the Month: Six Degrees of Orcutt

One of the redeeming bits about business travel is that it affords the opportunity to discover places to perch. Finding a comfortable, cool little nook or cranny to work, to chat, to read, to write, or to just hang out are the secret joys of travel on the company dime.

I discovered Six Degrees Orcutt in search of breakfast and brew last year. Their overnight oats are superb, and their coffee even better, all in a tiny little line of stores in a village south of Santa Maria.

Coffee Mug of the Month: Got Kicks?

As of this writing, we’ve taken Route 66 from Hesperia to Oklahoma City.

Looking forward to taking the Chicago – OKC portion, and then finishing by sticking to the original alignment as far as we can go.


The Improbable Metropolis 

As the sun rises over Las Vegas (yes, here again, this time for the Spousal Unit), I wonder if the denizens of this quaint little desert burg realize or care that this city would barely exist without the Mob and the Nevada Gaming Commission.

(Not to mention the wild-eyed vision of two of my tribesmen, Ben Siegel and Steve Wynn.)

That a city of this size could exist due to the will of so few is a thing of wonder. One is driven to ponder: how fragile is its existence?


Pocket Gopher

In the topor of the afternoon, Mr. Gopher pops by, inviting himself to tea.

Our conversation is interrupted by the distant shriek from the osprey nest under the trestle, and Mr. Gopher decides that tea might be best taken underground. Without so much as a “good afternoon” he leaves us. 

I reach for my coffee, toast the now-deserted tunnel entrance, and marvel aloud how Camping turns “pests” into “wildlife.” Somewhere, John Muir, Edward Abbey, and perhaps even the Almighty himself may be nodding in agreement.


My andropause machine: the 2020 Ford Bronco.

I hope Ford builds this. I nearly gave Brad Boekmann from Galpin a deposit for one.


Disneyland at Midnight 

We got to the camp at 9pm, along with a group of other parents. The gates were locked, so we had to work around them. We managed to do so without damaging any property. By the time the scouts were checked in and found their campsite, it was nearly 2300.

I was so wiped I could barely assemble a coherent sentence, and the twelve hours elapsed  since my last little repast wasn’t helping. I checked into the Anaheim Marriott at 10 minutes to midnight.

From a service standpoint, this was one of the best Marriotts in the chain, and the staff managed to smile and empathize me out of my stupor for long enough to order dinner before passing out. From the 19th floor a darkening California Adventure beckoned, but, bereft as I was of spouse, offspring, and annual pass, was not on the schedule for the morrow.

I contented myself with a glance out the window as I hummed the Tiki Room song and felt a goofy grin spread across my tired face.