Well . . . since I’ve already gone to Tijuana . . . and missed the donkey show ; -) . . . I would start in San Diego, take Route 1 (coastal highway) all the way up to Seattle veering into Canada down into Montana dropping further into Rapid City and the Badlands – waving to our presidents as I sped past, sending smoke signals to my cuz’ in Wounded Knee and Rosebud . . . hightailing it through Nebraska as I swerved all over the road to miss those stupid black birds that only rise up when they hear car sounds . . . stopping for the art museum in Kansas City . . . heading north to Minneapolis, with a sideswipe through Chicago . . . coasting through the Appalachian region . . . stopping for the music . . . meandering through Virginia, West Virginia, Maryland . . . catching a boat to some of my favorite crab shacks along the Chesapeake into Annapolis . . . heading north to Buffalo (because as cheesy of a city it is I love the people) . . . making my crash landing in New York City . . . specifically Central Park at 2:30 in the morning . . . where I once went through in a carriage at that time of the morning (my idea of “Hey we don’t need to rent a hotel room, New York’s up all night!”) in the fog . . . remembering that if you put a blanket around you (even if it’s in the middle of summer) the boogie man can’t get you . . . our Irish cabbie did hold up his handgun telling us that was his security blanket . . . looking into the thick fog I thought “Yeah . . . a lot of good that’ll do us if we can’t SEE A THING!” (I kept the blanket wrapped around me) . . . I’m just not a point A to point B person . . .