 For anyone who has a passion for the automobile, perhaps the greatest possible trek one could conceive would be the cross country journey. There’s risk, adventure. Roads never traveled, places never seen. The call of the open road has been a siren for the curious as soon as there was paved road connecting the coasts of the US. The task is enormous, and daunting. Hours on the desolate stretches of interstate challenge even the livliest to stay focused. But the promise of seeing, in total, the beauty of America in a single trip keeps the motivation going.
 Anyone who loves to drive wants to do it. To make the trip, to go as far as the road can possibly take you. Few do. Job, family, money and time usually keep those with wanderlust at bay. When you come across someone who is making the journey, it’s all too easy to be in awe of their committment, and, sadly, some jealousy that you aren’t. Meet Alison, a Connecticut native who is in the middle of a drive across the United States. She is chronicaling her journey on her own blog, Alison On the Road, starting from the shore of Long Island Sound. This being The Garage, naturally, the question you are begging me to answer is her chosen ride for this monumental journey. In this case, it is worst possible choice, a rented Toyota Yaris. I’m guessing an Audi R8 was not in the budget.
“You may ask yourself, where does that highway go to?” Talking Heads
Follow Alison to find out! And please, share with us your stories of cross country travel!
Believe it or not that car (Green 4 door Ford) is exactly like the 2nd car I owned and the first I rolled 375 yards down a cliff off the Rigur River in Oregon. Hell of an adventure!
Brings to mind a cross country trip I took in 1970. My car was a 1969 Fiat 124 Spider, but I met up with two guys from Westby, Wisconsin. They were driving a 1953 Mercury with a flathead V8 that they had borrowed from their Grandmother's garage without bothering to trouble her by asking permission. (They said she didn't drive it anymore and it was just sitting in the gargage, so…). With that car and what we then called a Tennessee credit card (a length of garden hose) they had made it to Yellowstone. The story goes on from there, but that car was like an anvil with a motor. They would change drivers by just jumping from the driver's seat to the back and the guy in the shotgun seat would slide over. Lotsa toe-in. It would overheat sometimes and they would pull over, pop the hood, and spit on the heads until they stopped sizzling, then drive on. Great trip!