The thunder & the road: lessons learnt on Route 66

Day 1: Taming the beast

Chicago, Illinois, to Carlinville, Illinois: 265 miles (424km)

The first day was always going to be a beast. We were taking on the second-longest day of the entire trip (well more than 400km) while driving on the wrong side of the road (for us), on bikes new to us, while navigating the traffic in Chicago, Illinois, with a healthy dose of jet lag. Add to that a rainy, 12-degree day and things were looking relatively challenging.

But we dug deep into our utter lack of experience in biking road trips and it all turned out fine.

A fairly long day, but with plenty of fun. We made it to our first planned overnight stop in Carlinville in one piece.

Day 1 learnings:

• One is never too old to eat at Hooters.
• The Best Western breakfast is not too bad despite our mocking it mercilessly.
• Josh at reception has had way too many Best Western breakfasts.
• Riding in the rain is properly kak.
• Don't write off Donald Trump just yet.
• If you're a proud American family, the best thing to do apparently is to make a big sign saying so and put it up on your front lawn.
• “Real men love Jesus”, according to a common bumper sticker.
• Because a town is called Normal, it doesn't mean the citizens are normal. Far from it, in fact.
• The people of the great state of Illinois are incredibly courteous on the roads.
• School buses really are like the ones we see in the movies – old-fashioned yellow and black affairs.
• Chicken pie comes in a soup version.
• It costs only $8 (R120) to fill a bike’s tank, so try to avoid putting $20 in the prepaid meter.
• Even if the menu says “chicken Parmesan pasta”, that doesn't mean that’s what you’ll get.

Day 2: Finding the balance

Carlinville, Illinois, to Cuba, Missouri: 174 miles (281km)

Oozing confidence after successfully taming the beast on day one, we hit the road for a manageable 140 miles (225km) on day two. The sun was shining and the weather was sweet. We had that peaceful, easy feeling as we got stuck into our R66 playlists and took it gently on the riding front, heading out late and stopping after only 20 miles (32km) for an early lunch.

We may have got carried away with the "taking it easy" approach as we found ourselves staring at a road marker at 5.30pm that told us we still had 55 miles (88km) to go to our overnight stop!

Nonetheless, we made it and Connie welcomed us with open arms at the Wagon Wheel Motel in a quaint village called Cuba, Missouri.

There's so much to see on this beautiful route that it's easy to be distracted by the stops and forget about the riding ... but we'll get there.

Day 2 learnings:

• Don't trust the distance calculator on Google – today was 174 miles (281km), not 140 miles.
• Riding in the warm sunlight under blue skies with a great playlist is what it's all about.
• It appears riding these beasts can be regarded as exercise even for an extreme athlete such as myself, based on the stiffness in my shoulders today. I feel like I've been bench-pressing Pocahontas instead of riding her. (Hey, get your mind out the gutter! Pocahontas is my bike's nickname – she is an Indian, after all.)
• A good portion of the Illinois section of the, as Route 66 is known, closely resembles the pot-holed beauty between Dullstroom and Lydenburg in South Africa.
• Even if your head is too fat to slide your sunglasses’ arm between it and the helmet, it is still possible to steer a 400kg hog down the interstate at nearly 100km/h with one arm while you shield your eyes from the glare of the setting sun with the other.
• We were the first South Africans ever to visit the Litchfield Route 66 Museum.
• Don't try to toss a piece of gum into your mouth when wearing a full-face helmet – it ruins your street cred.
• Pontiacs come from Pontiac.
• The people of the great state of Missouri are also extremely courteous on the roads.
• Ferguson, would you believe, is a suburb of St Louis and R66 breezes right through there. A detour is recommended for health and safety reasons.
• Each state has a welcome centre as you enter and they are worth a visit (the Missouri one saved us from what would have apparently been an unwelcome reception in Ferguson).
• Ted Drewes may have been serving frozen custard on R66 since the Great Depression but his product is crap – yet if you're looking to pick up a woman in her sixties in St Louis, I'd recommend renting a Harley or an Indian and standing next to it in the Ted Drewes parking lot. Just don't eat the frozen custard! 

Day 3: Learning the code

Cuba, Missouri to Baxter Springs, Kansas 235 miles (378km)

So we've gone from being as nervous as long-tailed cats in a room full of rocking chairs two days ago to seasoned bikers (well, at least we think so). Today's ride across southern Missouri was special, despite being fairly long. Sunny and warm weather for most of the day across rolling hills, dense forests and vineyards. It was a scenic country ride on Pocahontas, away from the six- to eight-lane interstate that dominated the first two days. In the early part, the old R66 tracks the interstate for much of the way.

There were many historic little towns along the way, including Rolla, Lebanon, Springfield, Carthage, Joplin and Galena (the inspiration for Radiator Springs from the movie Cars); also some boarded-up ghost towns.

Exciting news: we've finally managed to master the unspoken bikers’ greeting code. Every time you pass another brave biker heading in the opposite direction, it seems to be etiquette to extend an arm in greeting. The first few times I did this, I used my accelerator arm – which is definitely uncool as you almost lurch to a stop. Waving is also frowned upon.

So we've discovered through trial and error that the only acceptable greeting is to drop the clutch hand out to the left, below handle-bar height, while staring straight ahead and maintaining one's bad-ass biking demeanour. Never, ever look at your greetee!

Another safe day on the road filled with many new learnings as we said farewell to Missouri and nipped across the state line into Kansas for our overnight stop.

Day 3 learnings:

• R66 motel showers were not constructed with former Super Rugby locks in mind.
• Camouflage is a real car colour.
• “Bikers’ bum” is a genuine and severe ailment that has gripped us on day three and, like man flu, is not to be scoffed at. Clearly I don't sit on my arse nearly enough.
• Waffles and Wi-Fi make a viable business concept, while garden fencing and perimeter security are most definitely not.
• If I had a dollar for every basketball hoop andI'd seen...
• Merritt is running for sheriff in Lebanon, Missouri.
• The Black Sheep makes a mean burger and Ariston Cafe makes mean nachos (we would know, as we've eaten nothing but burgers and nachos except for a brave but ultimately costly dalliance with a chicken Parmesan pasta a few days back),
• Sodomy is a sin (shocking, I know, for those who were unaware, but this is according to a large roadside billboard).
• Rocking chairs on porches are a thing – everywhere. And while I'm on the subject of rocking chairs, there is also such a thing as "the world's largest rocking chair". It’s situated in Fanning, Missouri (been there, got the picture).
• Oh, we've been saying it wrong all this time. It's not root 66, it's rout 66, idiot! 

Day 4: God knits in Oklahoma!

Baxter Springs, Kansas, to Stroud, Oklahoma: 180 miles (289km)

We clipped the northeastern corner of Kansas and were out of the state as quickly as we had arrived.

Carefully nursing our severe “biker bums”, we headed southwest through the great state of Oklahoma under cool, overcast skies.

As has become the norm, there were courteous drivers all round.

The only connections I could make with Oklahoma before today were reading about Timothy McVeigh, the Oklahoma City bomber back in the 1990s, and, even further back, recalling that line from An Officer and a Gentleman: "Only two things come outta Oklahoma …  steers and queers. Which one are you, boy? I don't see no horns, so you must be a queer!"

Well, times have changed as we saw only cornfields, and plenty of them. It was a rural ride with fewer towns than on previous days and the ride even included a pretty technical section of muddy, rutted gravel road.

Riding through the farmlands took us past a farmer who had erected a large billboard (as you do over here) to thank the Lord for knitting his mother's womb.

Putting aside the whole religious debate around whether there's a God and, if so, whether he or she would really get involved in such a mundane task as knitting when there are so many more pressing issues requiring his or her attention, it came as a complete surprise to me that wombs were knitted.

There were some nerves ahead of our overnight stop in Stroud as this was the one place where we couldn't get any confirmation of our reservation other than a very confusing phone conversation in early January with Bob, the owner.

They don't even use email at the Skyliner Motel! And being the only place to stay in this one-street town, it would have been a problem if we had arrived to no reservation.

Bob himself was at reception. He asked for our names, turned to a few dusty, yellow post-it notes stuck to the wall behind him, and retrieved our reservation. Interesting system, but it works.

Day 4 learnings:

• You can get 10 pairs of socks for $4 – this beats doing laundry any day.
• Other than at Hooters in Chicago the beer has been pretty shit – but drinking Bud is where we draw the line. Rather no beer than Bud.
• All R66 playlists need a healthy dose of the Eagles, Pink Floyd, Crosby Stills & Nash, Neil Young, Creedence, Springsteen and Dylan, among others. However, if a few Boney M songs sneak in there it's not all bad, as I discovered today.
• You will really struggle to find something on any menu that's not completely smothered in melted cheese or cheese sauce.
• The freight train business is alive and well.
• Jesus is coming soon (yes, another roadside billboard, and I was tempted to scribble underneath: "Look busy").
• If you're clogged up from all the cheese sauce and in need of a good laxative, look no further than the brand Fleet, Stroud's most famous dinner venue.
• The Rock Cafe closes at 8pm (not a typo), so get in early.
• Sneezing in a full-face helmet at 65 miles an hour can be problematic. 

Day 5: May the force be with you

Stroud, Oklahoma, to Clinton, Oklahoma: 170 miles (273km)

More Oklahoma farmlands today as the endless corn fields morphed into the herds of steers we had missed yesterday. And with the steers came the odour of steer poo wafting up our nostrils as we roared past.

We crossed the 1000-mile (1600km) mark today, so we decided to celebrate with a kit upgrade. This took us on a small detour to Harley-Davidson World in Oklahoma City. I won't bore you with the details but we've added a lot more cool and comfortably shed the “Road Hogs” moniker for good. We're now genuine easy riders in the mould of Nicholson and Fonda.

Riding Route 66 is about exploring small-town and rural America. It's not one winding road that stretches across the continent, as one might imagine. It's pretty easy to get lost and the route has numerous dead ends. The Illinois and Missouri sections of the route are well sign-posted but Oklahoma not so much.

Maps are a frustrating waste of time on bikes. You need to get into the zone, bear in mind that you are generally heading west and southish, and rely on the force within for directions.

Of course it's always wise to occasionally double-check the accuracy of the force with Google Maps. It's worked for us so far.

I see in the news that Oklahoma is trying to impeach President Barack Obama over his suggestion Oklahoma allow transgender kids to choose which toilet they prefer to use.

So I've changed my mind about the people of the great state of Oklahoma. They may be courteous drivers but they've elected political representatives who are clearly overly conservative nobs.

Good thing we head into Texas tomorrow – no such thing as an overly conservative nob there, right?

Let's wait and see what the Lone Star State has in store.

Day 5 learnings:

• Oklahoma is definitely the land of big beards, well-worn peaked caps and gas-guzzling trucks. It makes me feel like I'm in a Hootie & the Blowfish music video.
• Should you be in the mood, you can "cowboy up" at the superstore in Weatherford.
• It appears man can actually live on cheeseburgers and nachos alone.
• Interstate riding is not for the faint-hearted.
• Dollar General is hands down the most useful shop in the US.
• Will Rogers and Garth Brooks are huge in this state with a load of things named after them.
• “Freedom fries” are available with your burger at Sid's Diner in El Reno for $3.90. There are absolutely no French fries on the menu.
• The Breaking Bad meth-lab camper van is parked on Route 66 in downtown El Reno.
• You can't swing a cat in this place without hitting a Baptist or a dude cutting grass on one of those mini-tractor things (this goes for all four states we've been through). But, not only are Americans deeply religious when it comes to the Baptist Church and lawn care, everywhere we go there is also a religious fervour when it comes to sport (baseball, basketball and football in particular). Not that they appear to be participating in sport, mind you, judging by the glaring scarcity of toned physiques, but they are into watching and supporting the local team. Every town we've been through has numerous signs in public spaces declaring their support for the local teams and many businesses offer discounts when you wear supporter gear. Even the churches get involved. This classic sign was outside a church in downtown Springfield, Missouri: "Jesus has risen, baseball season is back, high fives all round."

Day 6: Cowboy kitsch

Clinton, Oklahoma, to Amarillo, Texas: 178 miles (286km)

Severe thunderstorms were forecast for most of our route today, so we hightailed it out of Clinton fairly early to try to avoid the lightning, which was expected to start at about 10am.

The going was tough and sluggish, not least because of the extra weight we were carrying thanks to the size of the pizzas they served us in Clinton last night.

Fortunately we managed to avoid the worst of the weather and only had to deal with some gusty winds, plenty of mist and a dash of rain here and there with the sound of thunder in the distance (all very easy for us hardcore bikers). I will say, though, that those big-ass Oklahoma rain drops feel like hail when they hit your face at 65 miles an hour.

We passed through tiny towns called Shamrock and McLean, hoping for a coffee, but they were deserted with all businesses closed. Then we realised it was Sunday, which they clearly take seriously in these parts as a day of rest and religious reflection.

Arriving at our overnight stop, the Big Texan in Amarillo, we were greeted by a lot of cowboy kitsch. This is undoubtedly the Disneyland of Texas, with dressed-up staff, amusement-park stalls, a western-themed motel and a 72-ounce (2kg) steak-meal-eating competition – with Disneyland-style pricing.

I say “steak meal” because aside from the steak, competitors have to eat a salad, a baked potato, a shrimp starter and bread rolls, all within an hour, to claim their prize – the monster meal for free.

The most astounding thing about all of this, beside the shoot-the-lights out level of kitsch at the Big Texan, is that there is a world record for speed-eating this steak meal. It is held by a young, skinny mother named Molly Schuyler.

Little Molly flattened that enormous meal in four minutes, 18 seconds. Not being entirely satisfied, she then polished off another TWO full steak meals directly after that. Her time for all three was just under 20 minutes. Don't believe me? Google her and watch it on YouTube. Warning: it's not pretty!

Day 6 learnings:

• There's a Catholic superstore in Amarillo, Texas – typical Catholics trying to get one up on the Baptists.
• The local anti-litter campaign slogan right across the US appears to be "Keep our Land Grand", with regular warnings of a year behind bars for littering. It clearly works, as there is not much litter in the beautiful countryside we have crossed so far.
• I can confirm that although I had my doubts, it is possible for a man to learn how to use a washing machine and a tumble dryer – but it ends there as I can't accept I could ever learn to use a dishwasher.
• Openly carrying handguns is surprisingly not permitted at the Big Texan. Strange, I know, but then it is an amusement park, so just conceal your weapon for the sake of the children.
• Don't mess with Texas! You see this message everywhere. It sets the tone, I guess.
• Texas is the home of the leather boot, the leather waistcoat, the custom belt buckle and of course the 10-gallon Stetson. Finally, if you get caught at a railway crossing, turn off your bike, stretch your legs and have a drink. The freight trains are looooooong.

Day 7: Swimming with Billy the Kid

Amarillo, Texas, to Santa Rosa, New Mexico: 170 miles (273km)

An early start today in an effort to ditch the kitsch as quickly as possible. Someone's also cranking up the heat as we head further west so it's good to get in a few hours’ riding before it gets too hot.

We stopped after a 50-mile (80km) ride this morning in a tiny spot called Adrian, boasting a population of 166 souls. Besides being proud supporters of the Matadors (go the Matadors!), Adrian marks the halfway point of Route 66.

We celebrated this milestone with breakfast at the MidPoint Cafe, an awesome spot and a classic American diner from a bygone era – with some interesting customers. We bumped into a guy from Missouri who was cycling the R66, spreading the Good Word and handing out Bibles along the way. We must have looked like real sinners as he encouraged us to take four. We haggled him down to one in the end.

We also came across a couple in a bright yellow Kombi travelling from Argentina to Alaska. Given our ropey Spanish, that conversation was as limited as the one with the cyclist.

Next stop was Tucumcari, another classic R66 town, for a coffee break at the Kix on 66 Diner, which incidentally has a genuine coffee machine and grinder. Make a note if you ever do this trip – it's a rare sighting in these parts!

We arrived in Santa Rosa, New Mexico (just down the drag from Fort Sumner where Billy the Kid was killed by Pat Garrett) early enough to enjoy a swim in a local tourist attraction, the Blue Hole. It’s a natural artesian well that's one of the most popular scuba-diving destinations in the US – and, legend has it, where Billy the Kid would take a dip back in the day.

With its crystal-clear, freezing water, it was worth a visit to cool down after the heat of the road. Brett impressed us all (and most of the other tourists) with a 20-foot rock dive into the pool.

Day 7 learnings:

• “We don't dial 911 in Texas!” – a slogan you see all over.
• Saw my first cattle feedlot today near the Texas/New Mexico border. It’s basically a giant open-air death row for cows. It was enormous. There must have been 30,000 or more animals there.
• Candice, it appears, is apparently less than keen on Brett's impending tattoo (too bad for her).
• This trip has been getting steadily more expensive as Pravin Gordhan's woes continue (here's hoping the latest assurances from the Hawks on the matter will allow the rand to strengthen a bit).
• The lyrics "on a steel horse I ride" from Bon Jovi's Wanted Dead or Alive make a lot more sense to me now. Riding Pocahontas day after day and packing and unpacking her each morning and afternoon definitely has a horsey feel to it.
• You can snitch on drunk drivers in New Mexico by dialing DWI.
• Riding in only a T-shirt in the afternoon heat is liberating. However, do try to avoid running into hardcore, knife-carrying, leather-wearing biker gangs, particularly if you're biking around town dressed in board shorts and slops. I think they see it as a sign of disrespect

 Day 8: Crossing the Rio Grande and avoiding the Donald

Santa Rosa, New Mexico, to Gallup, New Mexico: 257 miles (413km)

Our earliest start this morning for our longest ride. We’re on the bikes at 5.30am to beat the heat and the gusty winds that come up in the afternoon.

We galloped out of Santa Rosa heading for Gallup 257 miles (413km) away with a chill in the air, the rising sun at our backs and Guns N’ Roses on the playlist.

All seemed right with the world – until the morning chill took on a whole new level of freezing after 30 miles (48km) or so of riding. Eventually we had to pull over to try to warm our numb, gloved hands on the bike engines before pushing ahead.

After 80 miles (128km) of hammering it down the interstate we stopped in Moriarty for a much-needed coffee, only moments away, I'm pretty certain, from frostbite setting in.

Route 66 then goes right through downtown Albuquerque for about 15 miles (24km). It's an awesome stretch of road with many classic R66 neon signs for the countless diners and motels on the Albuquerque route. It also includes the bridge over the Rio Grande where we stopped for a mandatory photo.

We ducked out of Albuquerque just before the Trump supporters and protesters turned the city centre into a no-go area. So many things to consider when planning our rides, including the whereabouts of crazed presidential candidates and their fans and haters.

We didn't completely avoid the gusty winds, unfortunately, and our last hour into Gallup was really gusty, so much so that I was relieved to be riding a girl as large as Pocahontas (400kg) and that I had been going a bit overboard on the nachos and bacon-and-cheese burgers over the past week.

Gallup is a cool little town surrounded by desert where many of the old classic westerns were made. We're staying at the El Rancho Hotel, a real landmark where all the Hollywood stars including John Wayne, Doris Day and Katharine Hepburn stayed back in the day while filming.

I'm in the Ronald Reagan suite, lying on the bed where many years ago I'm sure Ronnie lay, allBrylcreemed up after a hard day on set and contemplating switching careers from acting to politics and, perhaps, making an eventual run for the presidency.

I'm just contemplating tomorrow's impending heat and gusty winds.

Day 8 learnings:

• The desert is seriously cold in the early morning at high speed and open finger gloves are a definite no-no.
• The freight trucking business is alive and well, but the interstate bus business seems to have died (not a Greyhound to be seen).
• The plentiful roadkill (to be avoided for a nasty wipeout) is made up of possum and armadillo in equal quantities.
• Shooting ranges are listed as tourist attractions in these parts.
• “Biker bum”, though like man flu an extremely serious and debilitating illness, is fortunately not terminal and we have recovered.
• Albuquerque and surrounds brought back vivid memories of Breaking Bad.
• Don't be fooled by all the Route 66 signs. We almost ended up in Santa Fe today, miles off course. 

Day 9: Forests with no trees

Gallup, New Mexico, to Holbrook, Arizona: 129 miles (207km)

A late rise and a lazy breakfast at the El Rancho this morning. I had the “Western Omelette”, which does not have diced cowboys and Indians in it. We followed breakfast with a short, relaxing ride across the border into tiny Holbrook, Arizona.

We're deep into the desert now and the landscape is spectacular. On the way into Holbrook we stopped at the Petrified Forest National Park, famous for its large deposits of petrified wood. No, that's not wood that's scared shitless; it's fossilised wood.

The term “petrified forest” is a bit misleading. We were expecting to see standing forests of trees that had turned to stone, but no such luck. The petrified wood is scattered on the ground or under the earth. What you see is a desert landscape – beautiful, but not a forest.

The national park includes a portion of Arizona's Painted Desert, which stretches over 20,000 square kilometres and is known for its special array of colours, including a range of blues and reds.

It’s hard to capture how beautiful it is with a camera but we gave it a good go. We're staying in those classic Holbrook wigwams tonight. They have been featured in numerous Hollywood movies.

Nine spectacular days of riding done and only three days left (including a side-trip to the Grand Canyon tomorrow). As Brett says, we can smell the stables.

Day 9 learnings:

• Francois Steyn would kick a rugby ball a mile in Gallup as it’s 6,500 feet above sea level (500 feet higher than Joburg). That’s surprising as we don't seem to have done any uphill since we left Chicago, which is just above sea level.
• Cowboys might not cry, but they also don't bath. I had a bath at the El Rancho this morning and I reckon a midget would have struggled to stretch out in there.
• One of the things that makes this a really great trip is that every ride we do is different from the last. It's not like long-distance car trips where you drive, stop and drive again and it's all pretty much the same. Riding a bike, you are more aware of the scenery, the weather, the traffic, the road conditions and so on, so a two-hour ride before breakfast will be a completely different experience compared with the two hours after breakfast, even if the countryside is similar.
• I've seen an endless number of white-painted bicycles on the side of the road, usually decorated with flowers, over the past nine days. I discovered today that they are placed there to commemorate a cyclist killed in a motor accident – they're called “ghost bikes”. It’s quite surprising that we have seen so many considering how safe we have felt on the roads here.
• Americans don't seem to enjoy parking and getting out of their cars as they have drive-throughs for every conceivable retail need, even in the smallest towns. Besides the standard fast-food drive-through, we've seen drive-through convenience stores, liquor stores, pharmacies and ATMs. Where there are no drive-throughs, you can find trucks parked and idling with their keys in the ignition outside convenience stores. There’s no fear of theft in these small towns.
• The term "Rust Belt" is officially used to describe other parts of the US but could well apply to Route 66 as well. There is so much rust in the small, dying or completely dead little towns we have been through, I reckon the US would solve its national debt problems if it could find a market for all the rust.

Day 10: Easy with the Eagles

Holbrook, Arizona, to Seligman, Arizona: 265 miles (426km) (including a Grand Canyon detour)

Probably the pick of the tour today – 265 miles (426km) of awesome riding that seemed quick and easy.

We had a detour to the Grand Canyon planned and wanted an early start, but the desert air in Holbrook was a bit too cool at 5.30am (six degrees) so we waited until 7am and a more acceptable 10 degrees.

First stop was Winslow to stand on the corner like the Eagles did:

 "Well I'm a standin' on a corner in Winslow, Arizona

   Such a fine sight to see

   It's a girl, my Lord, in a flat-bed Ford

   Slowin' down to take a look at me"

It's a great attraction that's well worth the stop, complete with a flat-bed Ford and the Eagles’ music playing in the background.

After a quick breakfast we hammered down the interstate to Flagstaff, which has an awesome section of the old R66 running through town.

From there we diverted off the mother road up the 180 to visit the Grand Canyon. This was a spectacular stretch of road winding through thick pine forests around Flagstaff up to an elevation of 8,050 feet. Cold but beautiful, with snow on the peaks above us.

Seligman tonight and hopefully a barber trim tomorrow morning by the town's 90-year-old mayor, called Angel. If we survive that, we'll give an update tomorrow.

And then it's tats all round in LA on Saturday, I guess.

Day 10 learnings:

• Jimmy Cliff's much-covered Many Rivers to Cross would be an apt song to sing at the start of R66. We have crossed so many beautiful rivers on an equal number of beautiful bridges on this trip.
• Dr Tim's Banting revolution has definitely not gripped America – the carb is still very much king.
• An enormous amount of respect and gratitude for the armed services is evident everywhere we go – from shrines erected in people's gardens to thousands of billboards, and the question when paying in retail stores: “Are you a vet?” If so, you get a discount.
• There's definitely no problem with openly carrying firearms in Arizona. Everywhere we go everyone is packing. Quite disconcerting.
• We came across some pieces of the World Trade Centre in Winslow today.
• It appears it's possible not only to bike R66, but also to run it at the same time. Miles the Psycho had been doing anywhere from 12km to 21km daily after finishing his bike ride (yes a full half-marathon in Holbrook yesterday).
• Finally, we are proud to announce that we have managed to eat nachos in every state so far. Only California to go! 

Day 11: Channelling the ghosts of Jack and co

Seligman, Arizona, to Needles, California: 159 miles (255km)

Another "super A grade" day on the bikes. Based on the last two days, Route 66 has been saving the best for last. The stretch from Seligman to Needles today is the longest uninterrupted stretch of R66. We loved every minute of the warm desert weather and being far from the interstate.

Our ride took us through Peach Springs, Hackberry and Kingman and then up into the Black Mountains on a narrow and winding mountain pass to Oatman, an old gold-mining town left completely deserted after the end of the gold boom. It looks like a town out of a western movie.

We then rode down into the Mohave Valley and battled the desert heat before crossing the mighty Colorado River into California and made a beeline for the Best Western pool. Please remember that there is strictly no diving. We didn't, unfortunately.

All that’s left is the run into LA tomorrow and the perfect road trip is complete.

Day 11 learnings:

• I've had enough of railway lines, trains and their very loud horns. We've slept next to a railway line almost every night on this trip. Holbrook was the worst. We were only metres from the tracks and our wigwams shook as the trains came past.
• You can dial "855 The Truth" to get the lowdown on Jesus in Arizona.
• GPS really does lie. Our trip today was 159 miles (255km), not 138 (222km) as promised by Google Maps.
• Keith at the Best Western Needles is Josh's (from Best Western Chicago) bigger brother and I'm not talking age.
• The desert further west is damn hot already and it's only spring.
• Against all odds and after almost two weeks of searching, I have found a restaurant menu item not smothered in melted cheese. It’s hard to believe, I know, but before you get excited – it's only one menu item in one small town but it will do. Our breakfast diner yesterday served mixed berries with Greek yoghurt, granola and honey. I almost fell off my chair (and it was damn good).
• We had another classic R66 dead end today in the desert heat. There was nothing to do but laugh and turn around.
• Among the many, many rules at the Best Western pool, you are strictly forbidden from making use of the pool if you have had diarrhoea in the past 14 days.
• Being the hardcore bikers that we are, we have realised we have a responsibility to look kindly on requests from German tourists to pose with our bikes on the side of R66. No one said it would be easy being famous.
• Saw the best road sign today in the Black Mountains that could not have put it more plainly: "When flooded, turn around, don't drown."

 Day 12: The chequered flag

Needles, California, to Los Angeles, California: 280 miles (450km)

Greetings from Santa Monica, the official end of R66 and 2,500 miles (4,023km) and 12 days later. Our last day on the road and another goodie.

After yet another shitty night’s sleep due to the sound of trains outside our rooms we roared out of Needles at 5am to avoid the desert heat.

It was 23 degrees at 5am and just light enough to see the barren but spectacular landscape. Pretty much an empty road except for us and the many mile-long freight trains that snake their way across the desert. A quick breakfast stop in Barstow and then straight into LA.

Having spent some time on the LA highways, today we unfortunately can't lump the California drivers with those in the rest of the states we've been through. Everyone here seems to have a death wish. We were lucky to reach the Eagle Rider drop-off in one piece. Once the bike admin was taken care of, we headed straight for the American Electric Tattoo Company on Sunset Boulevard for some celebratory ink (and tequila of course!).

Our 12-day adventure has taken us across a stunningly beautiful country, from the quaint, well-preserved R66 towns of Illinois to the dense forests of Missouri, the lush farmlands of Oklahoma and Kansas, the wide, open plains of Texas, and the multitude of desert landscapes and big skies of New Mexico, Arizona and California. Everywhere we've been, Americans have been friendly, helpful and polite (excluding the LA road users, of course).

Besides the natural beauty, friendly people and great customer service, the one thing that struck me is that apart from not being able to find edible food in most places, everything else just works and is "real simple", as they say over here, even in the smallest half-shuttered towns. This has been a refreshing change coming from an environment where we face so many regular obstacles.

Riding R66 has been an unforgettable adventure for all four of us. I would recommend it enthusiastically. I am living proof that an idiot who never really rides a bike can fly across the world and then ride across a continent with zero preparation.

Despite many people telling me I was completely insane to try to do something like this – presumably as I wasn't a real biker – this is probably the sanest thing I have done in years, other than the quality holiday time I get to spend with my wonderful wife and kids.

Been there, done that, got the tat.

Day 12 learnings:

• If you're a fish lover, you’re going to be bitterly disappointed here as there's only ever muddy catfish on the menu.
• It's a good thing only one day of this tour has been riding through California as the state’s fuel prices are daylight robbery at twice the price of the other states we visited.
• We have added California to our nachos conquest.
• One more drive-through variation discovered on our last day – a drive-through hardware store.
• Tattoos are not painful but the reaction of loved ones can be.
• Tar snakes – the grooves common in tarred roads – can be just as dangerous as real snakes if your bike runs into one.
• In the US, roads are called pavements and pavements are called sidewalks – this has caused us a fair amount of trouble because when scouting sections of R66 we tended to ignore road signs that said the pavement was ending ahead when they are actually warning us that the road ended ahead!
• Finally, it feels strange to no longer have the beast, Pocahontas, sitting outside waiting quietly for me to saddle her up for another day's ride. This has clearly become very addictive.