Actually that's not entirely true. I did buy a latte from the cafe downstairs at the Hard Rock - who on my previous holiday served bearable lattes - but it was so utterly vile, I had to throw it out. Seriously, three sips in and I just couldn't take it any more. And there's no point taking it back. They don't know any different. So I set off without my beloved coffee. I knew it was going to be this way, but it still completely sucked donkey balls.

Things did improve when I was handed the keys to my very own Dodge Challenger. OK, so I don't own it but hiring it cost almost as much as buying and for the next ten days, it is mine to destroy as I see fit. The guy at the service counter handed me the keys and said "It's a bad-ass car." I assured him I would drive it accordingly. I then double-checked the level of insurance I had and was informed that even if I walked outside and found the car on fire, I wouldn't have to pay a cent. Good to know.

I stopped at Walmart before starting my road trip. Now all the Americans reading this won't even blink. All the Aussies reading this will wonder if I saw any "people of Walmart". (Sadly, no.) But the Aussies who have been to America and have been to Walmart are right now, I'm sure, banging their foreheads on their keyboards with excitement. Walmart is sensational. I bought a slab of water bottles for about $3, a bunch of those L'Oreal or Covergirl or Something mascaras for $5 each, antihistamines (box of 120) for about $10. You get the idea. One could gleefully run along the aisles, sweeping armfuls of "things" into your trolley and know you'd still not overspend.

Finally, I hit the open road. I'm doing this trip without a GPS. Just maps and my super awesome sense of direction. I knew I needed the I-15 and I knew I needed to be going north-ish. In America, that kind of knowledge will actually get you almost exactly where you need to go. Not like in Sydney where you need a treasure map, a compass, planetary alignment, a sacrifice to the gods of traffic, and a prayer to find where you need to be. (And when you get there, there won't be a parking spot for eight kilometres in any direction and you're wearing high heels.) Not the case in America, though. Really super easy. Stopped for lunch in a little town called Mesquite. (Like mosquito without the 'oh'.) Had dodgy Mexican from a dodgy looking place but survived. I understood the girl with the Spanish accent at the counter perfectly. Pretty sure she didn't understand a word I said.

But this little experience reminded me that most Americans are actually lovely people. A guy held the door for me as I was leaving el dodgy Mexicana. I thanked him and he immediately noticed the accent and began chatting. I asked if he was local, he said yes, so I double-checked I knew how to get back to the interstate. He explained a faster route to me, confirmed I had it right, wished me a lovely holiday, expressed jealousy over the car, and sent me on my way with "blessings". Nice people. Easy to forget.

Back on the interstate, the landscape began to change. Less desert, more mountains. Before I knew it, I crossed the state line into Utah. In a surprisingly short amount of time, I was swinging into Springdale. Managed to snap a few photos as the sun went down. Had me an average kind of dinner but in large quantities. If I hike for eight hours straight tomorrow, I should be able to burn it off.

The lack of caffeine has made me tired at a surprisingly early hour. 10pm. That's unheard of!!

Let's see what sort of stupidity I can get up to tomorrow.