Our story begins forty years ago when my parents moved my brother and me away from Philadelphia to the heart of the desert: Phoenix, Arizona.

In a trip that will live in infamy (five days? seven days? an eternity? in an AMC Hornet with two smokers who don’t want to open the windows because the air conditioner [a novelty for us Easterners] is on) we drove across America to our new home.

And I never went back. At least, not until now.

My oldest daughter, Laner, suggested a trip to the East coast this summer, after she graduated from college and landed a teaching job. She knew that I had been pining for the fjords, as it were, and that my dreams of taking the family back had been dashed repeatedly on the rocks of Scout camps each year. Would I be up for a fall break trip, just the two of us?

Um, yeah!

And the plan grew from just a trip to the suburbs of Philly to an epic caravan from our nation’s capital to our nation’s birthplace to our nation’s melting pot. It took a while to plan, what with juggling air and train travel, hotels, visits with old friends, and deciding what sights we wanted to see.

What follows is what happened, complete with pictures!

© E. Stocking Evan 2012