Go your own way

Christian and I have done really well. We've been by each other's side virtually non-stop since we left Atlanta on Monday lunch time. Sat in a car together for hours at a time, sharing thoughts and observations with each other, eating all our meals together and, of course, sharing a hotel room each night. I guess inevitably we weren't going to agree on everything and this morning for a short time we went our separate ways - he had tomato with his breakfast whilst I had hash browns.

But we got over it.

By the way - for you Brits - that's toe-may-toe he had, not toe-mar-toe - they don't have those here . . .

We have this strange concoction travelling the roads of the south-east states here, a father and son, two men a generation apart who are at the same time two wide-eyed little boys taking in all the things they have seen on their travels. Two petrol heads who marvel incessantly at yet another Kenworth or Mack truck driving along the interstate highways, who gasp and say eloquent phrases like, "Wow!" when they see another '69 Ford Mustang or any other old car. And grin at each other inanely when anywhere near a NASCAR racing car.

We've done every cheesy, clichéd thing possible - driving along the highways listening to the Beach Boys, Fleetwood Mac or Chuck Berry, ordered our eggs "over easy", had chili dogs with iced tea, had grits for breakfast, asked for a coffee "to go". Grits are something unique. A colourless splodge on the plate which tastes of nothing. And I mean nothing. When the splodge has vanished you find yourself thinking, "What was that about?" You know you've eaten something but were deprived of any sensation of taste, texture or pleasure, the culinary equivalent of a deep and meaningful conversation with Paris Hilton.

Our search for the elusive mullet has proved fruitless - can you believe we've travelled over large parts of the deep South and not seen one mullet? But, today, we struck gold when in one diner we saw not one but two ponytails on middle-aged men and a woman with the best 5o'clock shadow we've seen in ages.

Already on this trip we have seen unimaginable beauty here in America but we have also seen her unwashed armpits too, which was always the intention. With a couple of exceptions we have avoided the tourist trail and just drifted through the real world here. More than anything else we have seen unimaginable friendliness.  Everywhere.

We drove through Myrtle Beach this morning, one of the most popular tourist destinations in this part of the world. What a strange place it is, such an unusual cocktail. First place we noticed on the way in was the Bunny Ranch. Girls, girls, girls was their punchy slogan. Soon after we spotted His'n'hers Pleasure Palace and then the Red Hot Club. From there we drove along a strip full of high-rise hotels - all had low, low rates, free wi-fi, beach views, free breakfast but none of them had girls, girls, girls which was disappointing.

Next thing we realised was that the place resembled God's waiting room. The only people we could see were eighty-somethings shuffling around. Could these possibly have been the customers for the His'n'hers Pleasure Palace? Tell me it can't be true. Please.

I am liking the United States so much and have been like a little boy walking around in wide-eyed bewilderment at all the things I am seeing. But I ain't finished yet.

We were walking in to a diner for our dinner tonight and passed a big black guy stood outside having a quiet smoke. "How ya doing fellas?" he asked.

"We're good thanks, and how are you?"

"I'm good. Are you two twins?"

Now, there's a man I could like and respect. Christian, however, thinks he could do with an eye test.

The pictures today are all from Brookgreen Gardens near Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. They don't need any words from me.