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In August of 2009, my boyfriend, our dog, and I loaded up my beat-up, two-door Chevy Blazer and set out for our first long-distance road trip together. What started out as a harebrained idea had, over the course of our then-fledgling relationship, solidified into a highlighted streak on the calendar, then a map, and finally a plan.

Before long, we found ourselves mapping out a 4,000-mile route that would lead us from Atlanta along the dusty remnants of Route 66 into New Mexico, up into Colorado and Wyoming, northeast to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, and back down south. We’d pass through Woody Guthrie’s hometown, take pictures next to a larger-than-life Jolly Green Giant statue, visit the Hormel Spam Museum, and traverse back roads and country highways from the foothills of Appalachia to the Ozarks to the Rockies, all while soaking up as much roadside kitsch and natural beauty as we possibly could.

It would be the inaugural journey on a newfound shared tradition that would result in the three of us covering something like 20,000 miles (and counting) of zig-zagging up, down, and across America together.

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