The Great American Roadtrip

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I often think of Betty, our 1976 Volkswagen bus, who was more like a family member than a hunk o’junk hippie van. The simple fact that she had a name gave her an identity and a personality.
We bought her, even rescued her, when she was on the verge of collapse, wasting away in a backyard in Schenectady, New York. Her beauty and charm had been long forgotten until our good graces in the form of blood, sweat, and tears polished her up and made her shiny and new again. When we were done with her, Betty once again radiated her canary yellow beauty, a permanent VW smile across her face. She was ready for the open road in late June of 2005- our first epic trip that would take us from Atlanta to Nova Scotia – and she never looked back.
I came across this picture today and was reminded of the adventures Jeff and I have had out on the open road. Not having our own set of wheels while living in Barcelona has given new meaning to the idea of driving, and those rare moments when we do find ourselves behind the wheel are that much sweeter. We’ve rented our fare share of fine economy size automobiles over the last four years when the itch for freedom from city life has gotten the best of us. Still, only once have we come close to the idea of the Great American Roadtrip while living abroad. The summer of 2010 was dedicated to our love of adventure, spontaneity, and the open road. Our only planning consisted of a highlighted map of Europe, our Lonely Planet guide, and an atlas of campgrounds covering all parts of Europe. Who knew where we might end up? We certainly didn’t, and that’s what we loved about it.

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