Andrew's Stories

Ah, 1964—what a year to embark on a grand American adventure! My newlywed wife and I, armed with nothing but our Australian and Irish accents, and a pair of shiny new wedding rings, decided to conquer the vast landscape of the United States. The weapon of choice? A $99 Greyhound bus ticket that promised 99 days of unlimited travel. The catch? We needed foreign passports, which we had, and a sense of humour, which we definitely needed.

We set off from Toronto, Canada, brimming with excitement and clutching our suitcases like they were filled with gold rather than crumpled clothes. The Greyhound bus, a metallic behemoth of American engineering, awaited us with open doors. The driver, a grizzled veteran with a penchant for chewing tobacco, glanced at our tickets and muttered, “Tourists, eh? Good luck.”

Our first destination was Miami, the land of sunshine, beaches, and retirees in Bermuda shorts. The journey south was an eye-opener, filled with an eclectic mix of fellow travellers. There was an aspiring country singer who serenaded us with off-key ballads and a chatty grandmother who insisted on showing us photos of her seventeen grandchildren. By the time we reached Miami, we felt like seasoned voyagers, albeit with a slight ringing in our ears.

Miami was a whirlwind of sandy toes and sunburnt noses. We revelled in the tropical paradise, sipping on cocktails that were far too strong for our delicate sensibilities. But soon enough, the Greyhound beckoned, and we were off again, this time headed westward to Los Angeles.

Crossing the country by bus is no small feat. It’s a marathon of rest stops, roadside diners, and questionable motel rooms. We witnessed the majestic beauty of the Grand Canyon, the kitschy allure of Route 66, and the endless flatness of the Texan plains. Each new state brought its own flavour of Americana, from cowboy hats to Elvis impersonators. We even made friends with a pair of German backpackers who were just as bewildered by American portions as we were.

Arriving in Los Angeles felt like reaching the promised land. The city buzzed with Hollywood glamour, surfers, and smog. Our grand tour was nearing its end, but not before we boarded a passenger-carrying cargo ship destined for Australia. The ship was a floating menagerie of goods and passengers, where crates of bananas rubbed shoulders with honeymooners like us.

As we sailed away, leaving the Greyhound buses and the vast American highways behind, we couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity and brilliance of our journey. We had travelled over 5000 miles, met countless characters, and seen a lifetime’s worth of sights. And all for $99—talk about a bargain!