With the largest road atlas money can buy (thanks, grandma) laid out on the kitchen counter and some fancy new highlighters in hand, I began marking points. I marked places where I knew people, drew lines connecting the dots, checked the mileage with Google Maps to make sure I wasn’t planning ridiculously long drives (I max out at about 14 hours), and started feeling giddy.
Read MoreGood road trip films? They're full of Clark Griswolds strapping old dead ladies to the roofs of station wagons; of dimwitted Tommy Callahans trying their darndest to sell break pads across the Midwest; of buddies riding across South America on their motorcycles, discovering injustice in the world.
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