The US is so big that you tend to default to jumping on a plane for any intercity journey.
Indeed, the Google Maps journey planner in North America treats plane journeys the same way as it does train journeys here.
For example: Phoenix, Arizona, to San Diego, California, is given as a 1hr 25min flight for £77 or a six-hour, 372-mile drive. The former is the easy option and something often necessitated by time.
Yet fortunate timing on recent back-to-back work events and a Bentley Continental GT that needed repatriating to California meant that I could at last take the latter option and go on a proper journey, rather than just a trip.
Phoenix itself seemed to go on forever and was most notable from the road for its admirable commitment to listing every single fast-food outlet available at each highway junction.
Once west of Phoenix, I headed south at Buckeye – less impressive than it sounds – then west again onto Interstate 8 at Gila Bend, a rather sad place that felt like it had been left behind by the modern world.
A gas stop at Dateland gave me the first chance to stretch my legs, and naturally they had gone all in on the date theme inside the shop. Strikingly so.
Row after row of sweet, shrivelled fruits in every form imaginable, from key ring to extra hot.
The nice man behind the counter told me about a great burrito place for lunch up the road in Yuma, the only town of any significance en route.
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It's always interesting seeing the differences in the US. I used to live in Texas and some journies were very memorable.
One was a three day round trip to west Texas including travelling across the vast emptiness between west of San Antonio towards El Paso, and seeing a sign that read 'Next rest area 174 miles'.
Stopping in the middle of the night atop the Davis Mountains and seeing the Milky Way was unforgettable. That was a 1,300 mile trip by the way.