The Forager Traipses 2,863 Miles, Returns Home without Major Incident, Collapses in a Heap, and Remembers the Date Shakes Fondly

It was three weeks total, not two. It was brutally hot and then brutally cold. There were date shakes in Dateland, pie slices in Pie Town, and a six-pound steak in Texas served on a cow-print tablecloth—that one, thankfully, to someone else. There were dismal cups of coffee, and not a lot of vegetables. Dear Roadside America: Where are the vegetables?

San Francisco to Madison, via Yuma, Ariz. (see the map): I made it. So did my Honda Shadow, Bee-Sting Betty. Both happy and quite a bit the worse for wear. Now I rest, but soon it will be time for Show and Tell. Yes, I know it’s mission creep to step this blog outside Madison a couple of thousand miles—but just wait until you see the menu from the Big Texan Steakranch. And the darling little Texas toothpick-flag they put in the jalapeno peppers down there. Oh boy.

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3 responses to “The Forager Traipses 2,863 Miles, Returns Home without Major Incident, Collapses in a Heap, and Remembers the Date Shakes Fondly

  1. Yay! So glad you made it… Can’t wait to see photos…

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