I never went to Panama City for spring break as an undergraduate. I was in college too many years and yet, still never participated in that ritual until graduate school. Once started, however, I became insatiable. A best friend and I have adventured all over the country, but our most memorable, far reaching spring break travel was the trip that took us all around the country, traveling the historic Route 66.

First, it is worth noting that no one should undertake such a far-reaching, winding, unpredictable journey as this unless you have a friend like Kate. She's the ultimate traveling companion because she'll listen to--and sing with you--anything playing on the radio. It's essential to know this about your companions before setting out because throughout this country, there is plenty of country, Christian, and gospel stations out there, along with a stunning number of classic rock digits on the dial, so if you're not with someone who can be a fan of any notes coming out of your dashboard speakers, be prepared to launch into some seriously long conversations. We took this trip, by the way, au naturale... no ipods, no satellite radio. It was us, an FM tuner, and the open road. Hands down, that's how it should be done. The pavement on Route 66 and its fate was sealed long before the advent of MP3s, you should pay proper homage to this fact.

It wasn't just the radio afficianado quality that made Kate great to spend hours on end in a motor vehicle with, however. We both seemed to need to pee at the same time and both had the same strange photographic needs. On one lonely highway somewhere in Texas, we drove past a rural house with a giant front yard. There, in all its glory, was a giant, amusement park-sized chicken. It was not inflatable like the giant Packer footballs that adorn Wisconsin yards in the fall, nor was it cheesy like the garden gnomes or wooden cutouts of farmers with their imaginary hands touching their wives' bottoms. No, it was indeed exactly what comes to mind when I say "giant, looming, plaster chicken." It easily overpowered the front porch and cast an equally large shadow onto the lawn.

Neither of us was rattled, yet, Kate, who was driving, just turned to me and said "Oh...chicken" and without question or discussion, we pulled over and both photographed it. When you're traveling in Texas with a best friend, windows down, Route 66 beneath your wheels, photographing a giant chicken is the way of the road. Expect such possiblities.

As our trip wore on, we saw much of Illinois, Arkansas, Mississippi, Louisiana, Texas, New Mexico, Oklahoma, Kansas, Missouri and our home state at the time, Iowa. We were flexible; we'd arrive in one city and allow for detours to others, regardless of their connection to the original Route 66 plan. We saw oceans and rivers, ate barbeque in Memphis and stood in line for Graceland behind a man quietly wearing blue suede shoes (also photographed, of course). We talked, laughed, rode quietly. We ate, I'm pleased to say, much of the local fare, but we were not too high and mighty to sample the local McDonalds either.

We grew tired and testy during our week long journey, and changed its purpose daily. Near the end, we were driving country songs... not "to" country songs, but enacting their lyrics. We made "Amarillo by Morning" (four in the morning, actually) saw Sante Fe sunsets, and screamed "Kansas City here we come!" We united with other drivers on the highway, we took backroads, we stayed in cheap motels and we camped. What we really did though, was solidfy a friendship, make our own adventure without counting on travel agents, expensive packages, hotel service fees. Instead, we counted on the treasures of the continental U.S. and our love for Americana to make our own excitement.

We experienced all sorts of people, saw all kinds of architecture, ate all kinds of foods and we were our own tour guides. We could never duplicate the trip if we tried, even though the historic highway, a living legend, still stretches to the same lengths across this country. We are older and more accomplished now; we'd probably bring an Ipod and order more salad than wings. The car we'd take is much bigger and offers a smoother ride than the bare bones Civic that carried us the first time, but the sense of adventure that comes with driving on the open road would still motivate us, and isn't that what matters?

An escape is still an escape, and a great friend is still a great friend, no matter what car you're in when you spot the giant chicken.