Jackalope Pursuivant

An observation on regionalism in fast food franchising

The eastern states have a startling dearth of fast food restaurants. There is no question that McDonald's is ubiquitous everywhere. Burger King has a toehold. With effort, one could locate the occasional Hardee's, but I have no interest in ersatz Carl's Jrs. Taco Bells are as rare as wheat pennies, and Jack in the Box is a wholly western creature. There may be some other regional players, like the near-legendary White Castle. I did not get into the upper midwest, where they are said to roam, but in a 29-state trek across the United States I saw only one, next to a highway offramp, like a penned buffalo at a roadside "trading post."

Why do easterners put up with this deprivation?

Open road

I'm kinda-sorta sorry for the extended posting absence. I used to travelblog, but I used to be single, too. Now, rather than share my photos and experiences with the world at large, I share them with my wife. This is, on the whole, a far more satisfying experience.

I made the legendary California-Maine-California drive. Not exactly corner-to-corner, but corner state-to-corner state. It was a 29-state, 9,200 mile drive, accompanied on the outbound leg by my dad, and the return leg by my wife.

Somewhere in the middle, roundabout Vermont, I get a master's degree. It's fancy, has gold leaf on it, and is the size of my two previous college diplomas combined. Highly perceptive readers (if I have any readers left) will have noticed the subtle change in my banner graphic.

The trip itself was great. On the way out we hit Carlsbad Caverns, San Antonio's Riverwalk, smelly & humid New Orleans, a Mound Builder site in Mississippi, a cracking great thunderstorm atop the Great Smoky Mountains, a Virginia village named Meadows of Dan, and the Blue Ridge Parkway. On the return trip, we were disdained at Vermont's Cabot Creamery for daring to ask for cheese curds, put the business of an entire maple syrup outlet on hold while the staff tried to figure out what a baby loon is called, climbed Mount Washington, had ice cream on Cape Cod, saw a Cardinals (baseball) game from 630 feet up, discovered that Dodge City is no Tombstone, clumb Pike's Peak, got 4th of July sunburns, and slogged (hopefully for the second-to-last time) across northern Nevada again.

Now that's a road trip.

CORRECTION: 30 states. I keep forgetting Kentucky.