Those are real? Real Animals?

Jackalopes. Are. Real.

Triumphant rabbits with deer racks on top of their heads. And they sing. But sadly, darting across western Arizona netted us zero jackalope sightings. But know this: We are on the lookout. This needed first priority on the recap of Day 2 because, well, look at it.

Having not experienced the southwest, the road out of Las Vegas and into the rugged terrain of southern Nevada was eye-opening, stupefyingly awesome and then…scary. You get this unshakable feeling that people don’t belong in this part of the world - it’s hostile and desolate.

Humans are either applying ingenuity and resourcefulness in unprecedented levels or are just stupid. I say both.

But it is beautiful. 

It was also about this point in time that a little Acura with a huge, annoying exhaust blasted by, prompting me to mention that the exhaust reverberation made it sound like our wheel was going to fall off. Lady One didn’t miss a beat.

“Are you a car whisperer?”

Pretty sure I’m not, but maybe. 

Some words on Hoover Dam:

Massive. Genius. Scale-destroying. Beautiful. Mind-blowing.

Above, a shot from on top of the dam, looking down past the generators and into the rest of the valley. Truth be told, the Bridge at Hoover Dam was almost as impressive as the dam itself. It fits the motif (Yes, motif.) of the scene almost perfectly. 

Hoover Dam will have it’s own, super special part soon, because the really awesome photography we took was with a different camera…that we lack a card reader to rip the photos with. 

Above, a dinky little police station that I found unnecessarily hillarious. 

We ended the evening in Flagstaff after surging through the back-end of a wildly awesome thunderstorm. I would have attempted photography or video, but it would have meant hydroplaning in a rear-wheel drive mustang into oblivion (most likely). 

Side note: Where are drivers from Washington when you need them? 

We drove east to Kings of Leon, AC/DC, Mumford and Sons and Jay-Z. With the top down (before we hit the storm, thankfully), I’m certain there was nothing better we could have been doing with our evening.

At at the Roadkill Cafe, nestled at the beginning of Route 66, two dollar bills are stapled (somewhere) amongst hundreds of others, all autographed by people from all over the world who have come to drive roads that everyone should drive. 

Day 2 complete. The Grand Canyon awaits.

Here we go. Again.

The last time I was about to leave on a road trip, I may or may not have included a picture of a provocatively-posed woman and an old, puke green station wagon.

Now, you get a reference to a provocatively-posed woman and a picture of a Mustang. Talk about upgrades. The Mustang is there because in theory, that’s what we’re driving across the vast political hotbed known as Arizona.

(Ideally, I’d like to count the number of vigilante border guards we come across, but I also don’t want to point and provoke a battle with one and have to defend my house and name.)

Although knowing car rental companies, it could just as easily be this gross 90s gem or this.

I haven’t seen the Grand Canyon. My compatriot either hasn’t, or was too engrossed in some other childhood pursuit at the time she visited to remember. I can’t remember what she said.

The plan is simple: Land in Vegas, dominate Vegas. Drive to the Grand Canyon, dominate the Grand Canyon.

Etc., etc., etc.

Many pictures will be shared, many confessions made and many ridiculous adventures had. Let it be known that time has been built into the itinerary for shenanigans.

You misunderstand. I mean literally:

Traveling gets easier (and definitely more awesome) the more you do it. I’m glad I left a southern chunk of the U.S. - especially Route 66 - untouched before I knew what I was doing.

Ready, steady, go.