AS LONG AS NIAGARA FALLS... - 236 MILES

Not seen many enormous breathtaking, and famous, examples of American scenery on this trip although the country has mostly been very pretty. At last, out of Michigan and into New York State. I headed for the Niagara Falls. The weather was so vile it occurred to me that maybe more water was falling from the skies than was pouring over the falls.

They straddle the US/Canadian border with the Horseshoe Falls on the Canadian side and American Falls...you are ahead of me. As with tourist attractions all over the world this majestic sight is afloat in a sea of Tat. Horrible souvenirs and hotels and casinos abound. How this place can be described as romantic I have no idea. Maybe I’d feel better about it if a) The weather was fine, b) It was night when they are illuminated with coloured lights and c) I was with a woman rather than being a bloke by himself.

Decided it would be a good idea to go to the Canadian side to get a better view. In order to do that you have to cross the ‘Rainbow Bridge’. I can only assume it’s called that because of the sun shining through the spray. On a day like today it’s just a grey metal thing with cars and pedestrians on it. I trudged across it in the sleet and, when I arrived at the Canadian side, I was met by a smiling and efficient Immigration officer who took my passport and stamped it. Spent about 20 minutes taking a few pics and then headed back, having decided against going on the ‘Maid of the Mist’ boat ride which takes you up close to the Horseshoe Falls. I squelched back to the Rainbow bridge and made my way into the Control Building only to discover that to get back to the US I had to put a quarter in a turnstile! So it’s free to go to Canada but 25 cents to go to the US.

When I entered the US immigration building wringing wet, I was subject to the full force of "Homeland security". An unsmiling officer barked questions at me asking where I’d been - "Erm…. Canada for 20 minutes". “Had I bought anything? Where was I going?” At least they didn't take my photo and fingerprint me like they do on initial entry to America. As I left the building I noticed they were searching a bag belonging to an elderly Muslim. I suspect some racial profiling was going on there.

It was then into the car and off in the direction of the Adirondack Mountains. Like Michigan and Minnesota before it there are a lot of lakes and so I eventually found myself in Sylvan Beach by Oneida Lake and booked into a small Motel. I got the last room and was told that as it was a resort and it being July 4th the next day, everywhere was fully booked.

I decided to saunter around and have something to eat. There were lots of nice wooden buildings as the place is a mass of rather grand chalets and you could say everyone’s doing jolly boating related stuff and lots of fishing. Went into ‘Captain Johns’ and ordered a rather fine Salmon stuffed with Crab meat. After Alex was stuffed with Salmon stuffed with Crab meat, I headed for a bar. I heard music and went into a place called ‘Harpoon Eddie's’. As I ordered a drink, a couple of drunken women accosted me and asked if I was Australian. This happens 9 out of 10 times. As I made to sit down they said I couldn't - not out of blind prejudice but because their husbands were about to come back from having a cigarette outside.

So I stood and struck up a conversation with the bloke next to me who correctly guessed I was English. Despite my protestation, he paid for my drink and he said his name was ‘Wrencher’ so-called because as a child he’d hoiked out one of his milk teeth with a pair of pliers. He’d obviously been there for some time and, as well as his beer in front of him, he had a small plastic cup with a tissue folded inside. Every so often he would spit a load of tobacco juice into it. Because of the proximity of the cup to his mouth, and the fact it had a tissue inside it didn't make the "ptui.......tang" noise you associate with this practice, which was a slight disappointment.

He was very affable showing me a picture of his Harley Davidson and also a near naked photo of his ex-wife on his mobile phone. He was also a mass of prejudices.

Rather like the redneck I met last year he hated the French. It seemed churlish of me to point out that as it was nearly July 4th surely he should recognise the aid France gave to the US in the War of Independence? He also hated fat people and admitted to never having watched Al-Jazeera TV but said that everyone on it should be killed. He also made some rather disparaging remarks about Arab headgear.

His job was as an insurance agent - insuring churches. He insured all denominations except Catholics. They have their own insurance agent he explained. He also hated born again Christians as they’d obviously made a mess of their lives and hadn't gotten it right the first time. I didn't ask him if he insured Mosques.

I bought him a drink and made my excuses. As I left I noticed he was wearing a ‘Stars and Stripes’ sweater. Tsk…. now surely everyone knows about US "Flag etiquette: The flag should only be worn as a patch on the uniform of military personnel. Firemen, Policemen and members of Patriotic organisations. Oh, he did like Jeremy Clarkson though!

SHUFFLE OFF TO BUFFALO - 237 MILES.

After leaving the truck stop and its assorted creatures of the night behind, I set off quite early. It was then I discovered I was not making the progress that I'd expected. I had intended to make it to Niagara Falls but, as the day wore on and the miles of Pennsylvania stretched before me, this became increasingly unlikely. Still no matter I was enjoying the open road. The woods - and there are miles and miles of them, although they were different looking woods to the woods I’d travelled through in Minnesota and Michigan, were enjoyable enough. You can tell from this studious description that I majored in Botany.

Pennsylvania is not what I would call a tourist hub. This is part of the reason I have been travelling like this. Off the beaten track is more illuminating and travel, as we are often told, broadens the mind. You have to admire the Americans for so many things. Not least for their marketing expertise as I flashed past one of the many Hospice related billboards.

‘Stein Hospice -“It’s not about giving up. Its about living until you die." There was another which pictured a Doctor saying: "I know if it was MY Mother...!"

Would we be able to cope with such techniques over here? The roadside billboards and signs outside shops are an endless source of wonder. Although two which stick in the memory and made me smile read as follows. The first was outside a branch of ‘Hooters’. This is where scantily clad women serve you burgers: "Plagiarism saves time" and another outside a tattoo parlour: "We're a hole lot better. Get poked by a pro"

As I’ve mentioned before there are many things about the US that are a constant delight and also some that make me feel uncomfortable. As we head for July 4th I’m wondering what the outpouring of patriotism will be like as they celebrate getting rid of us all those years ago. Will it be a flag fest? Or rather like Christmas in the UK is it just another excuse to get drunk and spend money on stuff and have the day off.

By the time 6pm came around it was obvious that Niagara wasn't an option so I turned my attention to Buffalo in New York State. As I’ve done so often in the past I headed for Downtown in search of a hotel and could only find one. It said on a billboard outside ‘Valet parking $15’. That seemed a bit stiff for that whole car jacking thing. I’ve never paid more than $5 for it in the past. In fact when I asked the guy on reception at the hotel in Ann Arbor if he thought that was about right as a tip, he said it was spot on.

For that price I would want the car to be properly valeted which actually meant getting rid of all the old newspapers in the boot and wiping the Factor 30 smears off the dashboard. As the weather has been changeable to put it mildly over the last few days, I’ve had the roof up meaning there’s not a lot of need for the sun block as there hasn't been much to block. I headed out of town, thwarted by the lack of hotels, and then drove for miles through a grim suburb until the road opened up into a twee little town called Williamsville and a welcoming motel.

They had everything I needed, except laundry facilities, so I booked in. No tucking in service here. However similar to the Ann Arbor hotel, as I was unpacking, (getting the toothbrush out), the phone rang. "Was everything OK with the room?" “Yes, fine, nice of you to ask. Not found the Gideon Bible yet but everything else is in order.”

After a quick shower it was out into town. This involved going next door to a bar and grill which was distinctly upmarket compared to many of the places I’ve visited in the past. Still full from a corporate American fast food lunch, I decided that a few beers would do the trick.

I can't remember how many I’d had but when I went back to the bar the barman said "no". What? I don't think I was drunk and staggering, spoiling for a fight...”I love you your my pal you are etc”. He then poured me another and said: "On the house". Buy 4 get the fifth free?

Reminded me a little of an old Reg Smythe ‘Andy Capp’ cartoon from the old non-pc days. Andy hands his pint to Florrie his wife and says: "Sup this will yer pet?” She turns to the reader and says: "Its his thirteenth".

BESIDES THE MEXICAN FOOD SUCKS NORTH OF HERE ANYWAY - 322 MILES

A day of aimless meandering through some pretty countryside with plenty of woods although try as I might I couldn't manage to get the brain and map suitable meshed to enable me to drive along the shores of Lake Erie. Instead I just took wild swings off the freeway in order to leave the ribbon of concrete. Not an unpleasant day but just one that was unremarkable. In many ways I think I’ve been spoiled on my previous trip by the spectacular scenery of Grand Canyon, Death Valley, Yosemite etc. Perhaps my expectations are too high.

Not that I'm having a lousy time - far from it. It’s quite a nice feeling bowling along in the sunshine with a more or less completely empty head. I left Michigan and entered Ohio. As with last year, by the time I was in the East of the country the toll roads started. The Ohio Turnpike came first and for $3 this took me all the way into Pennsylvania. About a mile after leaving the Ohio turnpike the same road became the Pennsylvania turnpike and I had to fork out again.

Due to my circuitous route down some back roads, dotted with some rather grim ramshackle housing and abandoned vehicles and by the look of it people too, I ended up in Hubbard.
This is back in Ohio. I booked into a motel at a truck stop and sought out the nearest bar. Well in fact the only bar – ‘Erin's’. This was a small place with a clientele that resembled that bar in ‘Star Wars’. There were a few tables but the only people inside were a gaggle of drivers all sitting on stools around a smallish U-shaped bar area. Oh and one brightly painted woman. Not sure what she was doing there....welI actually I think I did. She would appear and disappear from time to time, although she never got as far as me.

This saloon configuration (yes, it had batwing doors!) makes talking easier. It’s a bit like the bar in "Cheers" meaning you can yell at the people over on the other side. A drunk was wandering around shouting drunken guy stuff to all and sundry and a huge man with a ZZ Top beard and hair was making a thumbing motion with his hand in the drunk’s direction. He caught my eye and yelled across the bar: "Goddam remote won't work! Trying to turn him down". "Perhaps your battery is flat," I roared back at him. Well, actually it sounded rather feeble and piping above the hubbub.

I don't know why it is - and it's just an observation rather than one of those ‘funny foreigners’ things that so many people do, but Americans are boisterous and often loud. I think it must be the result of years of being outside and having to shout across long distances. That and to make themselves heard above the elements. Being here and seeing people in their natural habitat doesn't make me think – ‘they are sooo noisy I wish they would quieten down’, it actually makes me think, ‘why are we Brits so buttoned up and reserved?’ Perhaps it’s because of our distinct natures. They are open and positive and we are closed and negative. These are obviously generalisations of course. Also as much as I like travelling, it is always good to get home to the UK again.

However there are a number of pressing issues that need addressing. I must get some laundry done. I’ve come to the end of my clothes again. Many motels have their own launderette but the luck of the draw at the moment is that I’ve managed to book into the ones that don't. Although they may boast other facilities which are welcome such as swimming pools and gyms.

Then there’s the next problem. After last year’s trip where the food and my gluttony managed to pack on the pounds - which I didn't really lose, yet more is being packed on, so when I get back I will have to go on a very public diet in an attempt to get down to something manageable and be able to do up the top button of my jeans.

It is insidious. Everywhere you look there are food outlets. I stopped for a late breakfast and shovelled more burger and Swiss cheese related stuff down me. Still, for the first time EVER in all the weeks that I’ve spent here in the US, the waitress said "have a nice day" as I left.

At the current rate of expansion I think by the time I get to New York they are going to have to cut the car off me as it’s getting harder to get in and out.

As I left Erin's that night having consumed nearly a bucket of monkey nuts they had helpfully left in front of me, I found myself in another burger bar availing myself of the "2 for one" offer.


Maybe that’s why Americans are so loud? They have to shout above the noise of their thighs rubbing together

THY LAKEBOUND SHORES I LONG TO SEE - 264 MILES

Next time I come over to the US I’m going to get a better map. Or better still Sat-Nav I’ve decided after thousands of miles of nothing. As the population centres are not so far apart, (comparatively speaking), I’m relying more and more on the cars compass and I’m finding myself on roads that aren't marked. Whilst this is all part of the voyage of discovery it does mean that it is sometimes difficult to achieve your objective. I thought a nice gentle drive down the peninsular would be nice meandering down some back roads sniffing the pines and lake spotting.

As I screamed down the Interstate once more I felt that a bit of culture was called for - so I headed for a town that I’ve known of for years. I've dozens of CD's in my collection in the spare room which contain the words ‘Recorded live at the Ann Arbor Blues Festival’ or some such. There was bound to be something moving in town.

There was…so I went. But first off I had to find somewhere to stay and, as most of the motels are miles out from the centre of town, I headed in and drove round and round and round and round….then round and round some more until found one. It was slap bang in the middle just off the University Campus. Big with students this place so much so that you feel incredibly ancient creaking along the streets surrounded by ‘Skaterboi's, Goths, Punks, Hippies and Frat Rats’, oh and the occasional nerd - but they can be any age I suppose.

Not sure if you’re born into geekdom or develop it like disease? No, that can't be true, as I haven't seen any adverts for its cure: ‘Are you suffering from chronic Nerd? Do you find yourself repeating old Monty Python routines whilst alone in your bedroom playing computer games? You need 'Geekbegone'!’

Booked into the hotel and a young man, who went into "Sir" overdrive took my keys and hid my car somewhere. This is my first valet parking experience of this trip. It always feels strange giving your car keys to a stranger who then drives off in it. The same stranger then gives it back on payment of $5 or thereabouts. The hotel also had a proliferation of "begging messages" thinly disguised as services. I usually leave a few dollars for the housekeeping people and this place posted a "turn down service". When I asked what this was I was told that at 11pm someone would come to my room and turn the bed down and put the light on for me. "A bit like Mummy coming to tuck me in?" I beamed. There was a silence as another shaft a devastating "Briddish Humor" fell to the floor - to be vacuumed up by "housekeeping" later on.

As luck would have it the hotel was only a stones throw from the venue which was the ‘Top of the Park’ – part of the Ann Arbor Summer festival and sponsored by the local Public Broadcasting Station WEMU 89.1

Before the main event there appeared to be a ‘School of Rock’ thing going on as several impossibly young bands played a couple of numbers each. It’s funny and also enjoyable watching earnest 12 year olds wrestling with the intricacies of Black Sabbath and Alice Cooper and the standard was quite high. The young guy in the middle who didn't look much older than about 18 himself appeared to be their teacher as he was in charge and performed with all the bands.

It was a beautiful summers evening and before the main event I wandered over to look at some of the stalls. Well in truth I went to see the guys at WEMU 89.1 (I think I’d better pop down to Walgreen's pharmacy in the morning to pick up a pack of 'Geekbegone'). They were very friendly and invited me into their ‘Friends and Sponsors’ tent. They also gave me a ticket for a free beer. YESSS!!

Chatted to Linda Yohn WEMU's music director who was also doing the on-stage announcements and we compared notes about the sort of formats we had and the state of radio in the UK and the U.SZZzzzzzzzzzzz! She made her excuses and left, possibly worrying that she may have been infected with 'Dork'.

On came the 'Cadillac Cowboys'. They were workmanlike country and Western Swing and enthusiastic enough and suddenly I noticed....older people. They were dancing. My foot tapped in its usual unbridled devil- may- care, let-my-hair-down, wild and crazy British guy way.

All that dancing had made me thirsty so I decided to head into town to see what was on offer. Downtown is very pretty and with the sort of shops you'd expect to find in a university town. There were also a couple of nice neon lit cinemas one showing ‘Harold and Maud’, which is a favourite of mine from years ago.

The Monkey Bar was empty when I walked in. I checked with the barkeeper that it wasn't about to close as it was 9pm by then. He assured me that he had in fact just opened and they would shut up shop about 2am. So I sat and read the paper and listened to the Blues on the sound system. Watched yet more baseball on the TV.

Gradually people drifted in and started to play pool and gather in groups to drink "shots". Our pub culture doesn't really embrace this aspect of boozing. Plus we're not really into cocktails as the Americans are. There was a lot of shaking of mixers and jiggers and jugs and stuff going on. Things have obviously moved a long way from "Gimme a Beer" or "Whiskey". I don't remember John Wayne ever lurching through the bat wings and shouting; "Margarita!" or "Manhattan!" at the cowering barman.

When the full signs had gone up in my head I headed out into the warm evening. As I walked back to the hotel it suddenly occurred to me what had been a bit odd about the "Monkey Bar". Every single person who had come in had been asked for their ID to prove they were over 21 and old enough to be served alcohol. Every single person...save one.....ME!

I felt very, very old as I made my way past the 13 year old receptionist. It was gone 11pm when I went into my room. There was a note on the floor which read: "As you had your ‘Do Not Disturb Sign’ up on the door handle we weren't able to provide our turndown service" – so I missed being tucked-in and a goodnight kiss from Mummy as well.

BONES RATTLE MY DICE. I SLOBBER DOWN MY SIDE - 310 MILES.

One of my favourite cartoons consists of just two pictures with the caption: ‘One of the guests at this party is a hypochondriac’. The first frame shows a party. The second is in darkness with a chorus of speech bubbles saying "What happened to the lights?" There is a lone bubble which simply says: "My eyes. My eyes!"

One moment I was sitting in a basement bar in Escanaba talking to Johnnie. The next minute everything went black. The power was "out"- which was a shame as Johnnie was telling me how he was thinking of hiring a boat to live on during the summer that he was working here. I was also enjoying an ad on the TV for ‘Dulcolax stool softener’ which had just followed one for "Arisept....Alzheimer's isn't waiting". Wheel of Fortune in this country is obviously aimed at a certain age profile.

What to do now? Bizarrely I was beginning to feel a little peckish. The restaurant shut at 11pm and, providing the power came back, all would be well I was told. So I returned to my room and, as it grew hotter due to the lack of air-con, I typed this blog by the light of the computer which ensured that it made even less sense than normal. I then sent it to the BBC for the team to make more intelligible before putting it up on the site.

Eventually a clang and a whirring noise was heard over the sound of my rumbling stomach as the fans started in the air conditioning unit. The lights came on and I looked at my watch......five past eleven!


I woke up early and stomped out of the motel determined to find some food. Michigan is a treasure trove for old fashioned diner fans. Corporate America has ensured that every town looks the same, but there are some notable exceptions. I found a fantastic café and, for a modest fee, they served up ‘The Skipper’. This was smaller than ‘The Trucker’ which frankly I doubt I could have finished. It was served with the words: "of course you can have that since you asked so nicely." There were smiles and everything, so unlike the café of the other day.

Weather not brilliant so I drove much of the day with the roof up. Still the smells of the forest were tremendous as I rounded Lake Michigan, went over Mackinac Bridge, and drove down towards the peninsular. At one point I noticed something moving rather awkwardly across the road and slowed to observe a turtle crossing. A little later I swerved to avoid a gopher that was hell bent on self destruction.

Miles and miles I travelled through dense woods broken occasionally by the odd shop selling "Pasties" or sometimes even "Pastys". No desire to try one as ‘The Skipper’ was still occupying my insides.

As usual I dawdled and around every mile or so there was another lake with more boats of every shape and size. Apparently due to the rise in fuel prices people are not using their boats as much this year. Also many driveways had a boat with a ‘For Sale’ sign on it. Could be some bargains here! Worse still - in one small community not only had high fuel costs damaged the boating and fishing season but, due to a burst bank, the whole lake had vanished and wouldn't be back until next spring. The water in these lakes is tremendously clear but, due to the colour of the earth, they can look jet black.

Eventually I started looking for somewhere to stay so opted for a place just outside Cadillac. Looking at the map I was not more than 150-or-so miles from Detroit....the motor city. Also not far from Pontiac. Hmmmm..I wonder!

Booked into a ‘resort hotel’ which, from some angles, had the look of a ski lodge about it. The old photos inside showed that it had grown up from being a hot-dog stand in the early 50's. When I hit the bar I realised however exactly what sort of ‘resort’ it was. It was golfer’s heaven. Sitting at the bar were a selection of stereotypes all joshing and flirting with the woman behind the bar. I sat and read the paper as they told short jokes about one of their number. They then made a few ribald remarks about the woman's tattoo. One of them got cramp so was standing awkwardly which resulted in a lot of fart gags and noises which they blamed on the woman behind the bar. Big Yocks all round. Meanwhile on the TV in the background, that had previously been showing the baseball, there was a man sitting outside on his terrace by the light of a furnace, cuddling his wife.....yup another Viagra Ad.

At the bottom of the screen it read - "See our ad in Golf Weekly."

LOVE CITY (POSTCARDS TO DULUTH) - 301 MILES

The motel I stayed in was jam-packed with bikers as it was a big wild hog crazy Harley guys weekend. They had come from miles. They had chrome. They had leather. They had chicks. The bikes driven by chicks had guys. They had little trailers. They had a lot of towels -they were drying themselves off and their bikes after the astonishing cloudburst we had all witnessed. We were all young, wild and free.

I sauntered downtown. By the time I set out the rain had more or less stopped although I didn't get the chance to see a lot as it was getting dark by then. Found a fake Irish bar. Rather sterile so just had the one and left. Interesting array of shops from the standard high street ones to the more esoteric ones. "Last Place on Earth" boasted: "Pipe,cigs,guns, adult toys, urine cleaner" . Further down the street there was a shop called and here I am using the American spelling: "Electric Fetus". Shudder to think what they sold.

Found another place which claimed it was a "Tavern". Sat at the bar as two young guys talked fishing. Here we were on the shores of Lake Superior and they had the knowledge. They talked rods, they talked lines, they talked weights, they talked water temperature, they talked depth. They then talked beer which apparently was a vital component of the whole fishing ethic. Everyone seems to have, or have access to, a boat.

Wherever I have been outside of the cities, people have used the land. We just don't have the space and never have done. If you don't have a load of pubs, cinemas, theatres or sports stadia on your doorstep, what do you do for fun? We have often ridiculed our U.S friends by doing that whole "what did you do Saturday night when you were young?"- "Stayed in washing my hair till I was 13 then married my cousin" routine. They are out there and there is plenty of space out there to be out there. Believe me I have been driving through "out there" for a very long time without making any particular headway.

By the time I got back to the motel all the bikers were tucked up in bed dreaming of the open road and possibly a new tattoo.

I had been playing peekaboo with Minnesota, Canada, Wisconsin and Michigan all day. The drive through the Ottawa forest was fairly spectacular and pretty much deserted. I had left Duluth with a stone of breakfast burrito stuffed inside me. It felt like that even though it was delicious. I think it was Miss Piggy who said "Never eat more than you can lift". U.S portions can be large but usually they are manageable. This was a bit of a struggle but I succeeded. The downside, diet fans, of large portions is that your stomach stretches.

By lunchtime I was rather peckish so had to stop at a Dairy Queen for a chilli dog with cheese combo. I had one a couple of days ago which was far superior to this. The last one had far more chilli and the cheese wasn't totally melted. Still the Brit in me said "Super, lovely" when asked how I was getting on with it. However I did spill what little chilli I received down my white shirt. I needed to find a motel with laundry facilities. It had been nearly a week since the last ablutions stop.

Continued on Highway 2 through Watersmeet, Iron River, Crystal Falls and Iron Mountain. The turning to "Felch" was ignored with a certain amount of schoolboy snickering and eventually ended up in Escanoba on the shores of Lake Michigan. I noted when I checked in that another time zone had been crossed. I had crossed the last timezone. I had gone from Pacific to Mountain to Central to Eastern.

Booked into a motel that boasted a bar, a restaurant, a pool, internet er - but no laundry facilites.

Found a basement bar and struck up a conversation with Johnny. He was a health and safety officer from Texas who worked on big construction projects. He had driven up here in just over 2 days as he liked to keep his car with him. That is some 1500 miles. I thought I was travelling! We chatted about this and that and then he left. I was getting a mite peckish by then so I asked for the menu. Just as I was about to order, everything went black.........

A MIGHTY WIND - 250 MILES

Spent the night in Morton, Minnesota with a population of 420. All the life was down by the stop light - which was the liquor store and across the street, the restaurant. It was in fact a tiny Mexican cafe. The woman who ran it didn't understand English so her son of probably about 8 had to translate. However this was hardcore ethnic food. I thought I had ordered Chilli, salad, rice and tortillas. What actually arrived was a stuffed and lightly battered green pepper stuffed with ground chicken, salad and 3 tiny tortillas. It was tasty but not a steaming bowl as I had hoped.

As I left I said to the kid; "Guess the accent". He giggled and said he had no idea. "Ever heard of Hugh Grant?" said I. He giggled again and shook his head. "I am from England, a long way east of here" quoth I. He looked at me slightly nervously so I decided to cut my losses. There is only so far you can go before you start doing that awful patronising Brit thing of mimicking their accent and talking loudly. Had I started on about "I came here by big silver bird", I think he would legitimately be allowed to shoot me.

In the morning I set off. I was originally going to call this episode "On a bus to St Cloud". Two things prevented me. 1) I was still in my trusty Chrysler Sebring Convertible, not the world's most exciting car but serviceable, not on public transport and 2) A Mighty wind put me off my stroke.

The weather has been changeable of late. I suppose it was never going to be Texan heat of 114F. It was still showing 26C on the car temperature gauge. I bowled along through some rather fine pine forests listening to the satellite radio system. The rental company had offered it to me as an extra at LA. I refused but it was in the hire car anyway. This system entirely free from regulation so far as I can ascertain and so it has "shock jocks" on it.

Lazy journalism in the UK refers to some of my colleagues as "Shock Jocks". Broadcasting rules in Britain renders them impotent and frankly laughable when compared to their U.S cousins. There is no one on UK radio that I have heard that can in any way shape or form be described as a "shock jock" .

You have probably heard of Howard Stern, and you may have even seen his film "Private Parts" but maybe not his colleague "Bubba the Love Sponge". They are truly coarse and disgusting. As I drove listening to Stern's studio based competition: "Anal ring toss" with tears of laughter pouring down my face, sometimes I wish we could push the boundaries a bit more in GreatBritain. It was so rude as to be beyond offence. I admit I have a high grossout threshold so the stuff I have been hearing hasn't caused me to be "offended".

No one will let me do "Nazi rhyming slang" on my programme. so there seems little point to ask if I can have nude women on the show....!

Comedian George Carlin died last week and TV is still showing tributes to him. He was another who pushed the boundaries. Especially the "7 words you can't say on television" routine which got him arrested back in the 70's. This is a wonderful country despite is contradictions. On one hand you can have extremely foul mouthed guys with studios full of naked "Penthouse Pets". Then you have the right wing pundits who make wild and exaggerated claims and shout down any opposition.

Last time I was here one of them was trying to say that the U.S healthcare system was terrific but the NHS and the French system had collapsed altogether.

Try telling that to Pam who I met when I reached Duluth on the shores of Lake Superior. She was 39 and had to pay for two back operations which have left her and her husband in so much debt they are about to lose their house and their gas has been cut off. You may be cynical and say she was spinning me a yarn. I looked into her eyes and she convinced me she was telling the truth. Before you reach for the phone, I never said our system was perfect!

There are a lot of Christian stations in these here parts. They make me far more uncomfortable than anything Howard Stern or Bubba can do. Still, it is supposedly the land of free speech so there is endless choice. I tuned in to one of the many country stations picking up a few ideas for tracks to bring back to play you when suddenly a few miles from of St Cloud near Foley the radio went funny.

There were some odd squeaks, warbles and tones and then suddenly a disembodied voice said "Tornado Warning". The local Met office then went on to explain that their radar had picked up "some rotation in the cloud" that could develop into a twister. They then mentioned various counties where it could hit and that the threat appeared to be travelling up......the road I was on!!!

The skies were darkening. However I wasn't sure which direction I was travelling compared to the potential tornado.

It was going at about 30 mph so as I was doing 60 I was either outpacing it or heading towards it at 90 mph. The information continued: "Shelter in the basement of a solid building. If you are caught in the open, either hide in a culvert or face down in a ditch covering your head with your arms."

We have all seen those 1950's "Duck and cover" U.S Govt information films which seemed to say slide from your school desk to your right and cover your head with your arm. "This will protect you from radiation". I wasn't buying this ditch thing at all. Plus culverts may be full of snakes and bears and skunks and stuff. I kept on driving. Every so often I would see a car or a motorcycle then it would vanish, had they ducked and covered? Or just turned off normally to their destination?

Then the heavens opened and it poured and due to the heat, even though the temperature had dropped from 26C to 14C in the space of a mile or two, the cloudburst was mixed with steam from the road surface.

I was very glad when I squelched from the car to the motel with its fabulous view of Lake Superior.......er, in which direction is the lake?