Well, we made it, and the flight was as uneventful as you might expect these days.  Landing in Vegas, and after going through all the normal formalities with immigration and alike, we took the bus to the Alamo hire centre adjacent to the airport, picked up hire car, a Jeep Cherokee, and set off to Caesars Palace, this being the hotel we were booked at.

It was dark when we arrived, and as the airport is more or less at the bottom of the Vegas Strip, we were soon in the centre of a whole lot of hullabaloo, heaving with traffic and everything lit up like a forest of Christmas trees arranged on Blackpool seafront in late September - except it wasn't cold here.  5-minutes later and we are at the hotel, and what a place!  It was the size of what would be a small town back home.  This was Caesars Palace, and our first time stopping here, helped by the receptionist’s words, “I’m sorry sir, I shall have to upgrade your room.”

Whilst it is true that my reason for being in this vast continent was that of a relaxing holiday to spend with my wife, however I cannot forget the words of Jules back at the Ride Drive office, when he told me to get some motoring stories, and not to forget to take some photographs. Better do as I am told I thought, otherwise I’ll only get moaned at.  So, what is there to look at driving about on the big roads of the US? From what I was seeing at my first point of arrival, things did not look that inspiring.

One thing I shall have to promise is I will try to not mention anyone of note this month. You may recall in last months ramble concerning the preparation for my trip to America I mentioned the band Boston singing that great road trip song, More Than A Feeling.  No sooner do I do that, what happens? Their lead singer, Brad Delp, goes and sheds his mortal coil.

On learning of his passing I thought of his band, Boston, and that led me to think also of Chicago, Kansas, The Detroit Spinners, and Miami Sound Machine.  Okay, perhaps I won’t dwell here, but somehow you just cannot imagine anyone getting world acclaim using the names of some of our cities back here in the UK. I mean, how would it sound to you if a radio DJ said, “here is the latest release from Sheffield.” Or, “Coming up later on the show we will have the new single from Dudley!”

What if a band called themselves Stonehenge and the Big Rocks? No, it just does not work, perhaps it is simply because we have actually visited some of these places and so associate the sound of the name with some less than romantic visual image? I am not knocking any of our towns and cities, but you just cannot imagine having a number one hit if your band was called Scunthorpe or Brighton can you?

Perhaps the names from over the pond produce in one a more sympathetic opinion, perhaps inspired by some Hollywood affected sense of romance?  True the names do seem to trip off the tongue more easily, but by the time I get to Phoenix, she will still be waiting as far as I am concerned. If I ever go downtown there again it will be the proverbial day too soon, but at least the quality of our television is better, well that’s what we always say anyway.  I have to admit that the American way of broadcasting leaves poor Johnny foreigner at a bit of a loss as to understand what is going on.

This was something that was brought home to my wife when she decided to catch the last series of Friends over there before it landed over here. This was something of a surprise to me, as she hadn’t caught any of the previous series, I did wonder quite what had inspired such a previously absent interest. Perhaps it was the aftershock of Phoenix? Well, the producers obviously believe the viewer to only have the brain power and attention span of a newt, as no sooner had the names of those entrusted with providing our next 30 minutes of entertainment disappeared from view, and the music of The Rembrandts faded, then we were into our first commercial break even before the show had begun. It failed to improve from there and that was the cue for me to pick up a book.

I did raise my head during the break and that was when I took in the car adverts.  Apparently it is a selling feature to have a car that boasts a fuel consumption of 23 highway miles to the gallon. Can you imagine the derision that statistic would receive over here? In fact recent studies show that fuel efficiency standards for passenger cars in the US have remained unchanged for 20 years at 27.5 mpg. These studies also found there to be two, yes two cars only, that are on sale in the US that can achieve 40 mpg.  By contrast Europe has 113 models of car that can do this.

It became evident that my wife could not take much of this awful quality TV and was soon channel hopping, only to find that despite 200 channels there was still nothing on worth watching.

Now there’s an oxymoron for you. No this is not something you shout at a Burberry cap trying to drive a Saxo VTR with a 6-inch pipe sticking out at the rear and who has just cut you up. It’s two words that don’t work together like European Union. Happy Mondays and Frontera Sport.  In fact, that’s a bit like saying Blackpool and Las Vegas in the same sentence.  I used to say that Vegas was like Blackpool on acid. This it may not be, but it was the closest I could think of at the time.

I am talking here of Vegas, and as far as this place is concerned, it is utter madness, but somehow it works. For a start it has been built in a desert, it is nowhere near anywhere of any importance.  Air temperatures can and do soar to a sweltering level, it has 19 out of the top 20 largest hotels in the world, and in excess of 32 million of us take a trip there every year. Oh, and yes, Elvis will marry you day or night if that is what lights your fire.  What is of particular interest is they also have cars, nice cars, and lots of them.

Yeee –ha, as we don’t say over here, but these folk do.  It seems that there is an automobile God in America.  I had seen this dealer before and had high hopes that he was still in business. Situated within the Forum shops at Caesars Palace hotel it’s a real gem. Exotic Cars is the name, and whilst you may argue it is not the most original of titles, it certainly cannot be prosecuted under the misrepresentation of goods act.

I feel I should give thanks here to Peter Steiner at the company, who let me wander around and take photographs of whatever I wanted. Walking through a place like this with a camera you quickly become bemused as to what is worthy of a photograph, as given the time and choice, you could make a case for snapping a picture of everything. If you want to look at what they have for sale at the moment you can go to their website, which is well worth a visit, by clicking HERE If you do go there, just hide your credit card somewhere totally inaccessible before you visit.

I walked around this showroom in abject wonder. I saw my first Pagani Zonda in the flesh, gazed at proper Cameros, GT40`s and Chevy’s sitting side by side.  There were examples of all those models that America became famous for making years ago and all that I was hopeful of glimpsing was actually here before my eyes.  Other exotica included a Koenigsegg that does 0-62 in 3.2 seconds, those Swedes eh, and managing to look like it was doing just that without actually moving. More Porsches, Ferraris, Aston Martins, Bentleys and Lambo's than a stick could be shaken at, and look at the detail in the motorbikes! Mind you, at $60,000 for a two-wheeled banana, it does seem to be a little OTT.

Just down the road at The Wynn Hotel, which is also worth a visit, you will find Steve Wynn who is Mr Vegas.  His hotel has the only Ferrari dealership in the world within a hotel foyer, and yes, it could only happen here, in America, in a desert.

We are now one week in and it is still looking promising.  My discoveries may not be new, or indeed American, but at least I am starting to find the weird, the wacky and the sometimes downright hot. Knowing my itinerary I wonder quite how much more I shall find.

Time to move on, and my next few thousand miles would now be spent travelling around the canyons and the wild open spaces of this vast and uncompromising land, and this is how it went.

We left Salt Lake City, and that is because we went there in the first place!  Now if you take anything away from these ramblings of mine, and you wish to save some time to go and do something interesting, then do not go to Salt Lake City. It’s a bit like Worthing. You know its there, you know roughly where it is, you think there must be something there to do, and then in a moment of sheer foolhardiness you decide to visit.

Considering this is the capital for all that is the Mormon Church it is the most soulless place I have ever had the misfortune to wander into. I was stopped for change by a man who on realising I was English, asked `what are you doing here then? ` I obviously had an option, unlike him.  I thought about doing the tourist bit. For some reason I had always wanted to hear the Tabernacle choir in full flow, hall closed for upgrade, ok what about the cathedral? Ah non-Mormon, you cannot enter, and that's it for the centre of town. A place you cannot find a TV, computer or mobile phone for sale, where when you walk into Macys store you double the customers, where you cannot find a cup of coffee, no seriously you can’t, and alcohol of course is only available below 3% ABV. A few weeks after we left we heard that a man went mad with a gun in a shopping mall, you can’t condone this, but having been here, I can almost understand it.

We headed North on I.15 for Yellowstone and pulled over for coffee when we found somewhere that sold this brew of the Devil. I needed caffeine, but the owner of the Ford drop head needed it for warmth, it had turned brass monkeys and snow was forecast, however the rumble overhead suggested thunder and lightning was more imminent.

What a stunning 1930`s example it wasn’t. The driver explained it was what we know as a kit car with GRP body, so not ideal with an electrical storm brewing up. His wife did not look too impressed either as they kitted up and drove off dressed like a pair of Scottish motorcyclists. They were making for Oregan and miles to still do, good luck I thought as I climbed into the Jeep and turned the heating up.

A few days later we were at a beautiful location in the middle of nowhere next to the Colorado River.  The scenery was breath taking, and as if that was not enough to stimulate the optic nerve, the sight I awoke to next morning that I found in the main car park was even better, but what damn idiot parked the Chrysler Sebring in the middle?

Things can ’t get better than a car park filled with this treasure chest of motoring memorabilia can it? Of course, with no salt on the roads and the warm climate meant there was no rot to be seen on any of them, ensuring that corrosion-wise at least, there was nothing to spoil it all. What we had found here was an American Jaguar owners club out on an annual trip, all members from which were very friendly and happy to talk about their cars, well all except for one English couple that is.  Talk about ignorant!

Dropping across country, to see where the Troglodytes of Mesa Verde used to live, there was suddenly the unmistakable bark of an Italian thoroughbred rented the air and almost as soon as the audible disturbance began, the car park was taken over by the Denver Ferrari owner’s club. Gingerly making my apologies to my wife, I was off again with camera and despite the assurance I had given to the effect this would only take a couple of minutes, I felt I had got off lightly when an hour or so later I found she was at least still was talking to me.

If you have ever watched the film Forrest Gump, you may recall a particular scene, where after many months of running back and forth across America, one bearded Forrest came to a stop and announced that he wasn’t running any more, and was going home. Well, here it is, and to see this is what a road trip through America signifies to me.  Long, desolate, empty roads with the type of scenery that cannot be found anywhere else. If you travel this way it seems you do have to remember to take plenty of water with you!

Of course no road trip across the US would be complete without making a call on the Mother Road, this being the historic Route 66.

Established in November 1926 this is one of the original federal routes and originally ran from Chicago for 2,448 miles to Los Angeles, passing through Illinois, Missouri, Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico, Arizona and California. It has been sung about, written about, romanticised about and talked about for years, but sadly now, with it being by-passed by a bigger and so called better road, it is something of a sorry sight to visit.

On 27th June 1985 the road was officially removed from the United States highway system and it no longer appeared on published road maps and after that it was decided the route was no longer relevant and had been replaced by the Interstate Highway System. Portions of the road that passed through Illinois, New Mexico, and Arizona have been designated a National Scenic Byway and renamed as Historic Route 66. As a consequence it has begun to return to map as a place of historic interest.

Once a thriving route linking towns that are now crawling slowly towards woodworm, cue wind noise and tumbleweed, Route 66 is almost like a little world all on its own. Some still try to catch the passing tourist and his bucks, and good luck to them, especially if you can catch a glimpse of a real live Vette in such magnificent condition.

All those who know me may well be asking about news of the two-wheeled machines I may have seen. Well, as anyone knows, when it comes to motorcycles, America means Harleys, and so not to disappoint I will not leave them out here.

Yes, the bronze one had broken down. Never had that problem with any of my Honda’s!

I started this road trip through The States wondering if America and cars was still something that you could associate as being something you could combine into one sentence, and when you get away from all the mainstream here and now stuff it does seem that thankfully it is true. What fascinates Americans may not all be home grown these days and this seems daily to be the sad case here, but at least those native to this vast and rugged land can still be inspired by beautiful machinery.  They are all out there too but to find it you may have to go looking. You will not be disappointed when you find it.

Thank you America for restoring this person’s faith in your love of nice cars.  It just goes to show that statistics don’t always tell the true story.  Utility vehicles may all occupy the top 10 of most popular new vehicle sales but out of all those utility vehicle buyers, I wonder how many have something far more exotic slumbering away in their garages?