3. Tag: A guy from Manchester

The morning started like the last one: early. I bet I'll sleep normally the day I head home. And then the next week will be fun. But at my age, sleep is overrated anyway.

For breakfast I have the Panda Express menu, of which I still have at least a third left. It's a good thing that every halfway decent motel has a microwave. That way I don't have to eat my sesame chicken cold.

At 10:00 a.m. I return my media player. The seller is not at all interested in the comment that the machine is not working properly. I get my money back and that's it. They have strange business practices. I'm fine with that and I'll continue on my way north.

The highway initially leads through prime Bonanza territory. Anyone who, like me, enjoyed this series as a child will think that Hoss or Little Joe could come around the corner at any moment.

After that, it gets a little boring. On the left, you can turn off to the Grand Canyon, but I drive straight on past endless sand and rock hills. It's one lane and the road moves at a snail's pace. But that's mostly because I'm the snail. Otherwise, my car drinks too much.

After half an hour the landscape changes and the familiar red rock walls appear in front of you. I get out for a moment and enjoy the panorama.

Straight ahead is now Page, over the Antelope Pass, which I only use as a subject for my GoPro, as I already know the rest of the route. So I turn around at the top and end up in a parking lot with a panoramic view. There I take a selfie and am approached by a guy who asks me if he should take a photo of me. I happily agree and ask him where he's from. Manchester. City or United? He rolls his eyes. United, of course. And he goes on for five minutes about how shit City is and how much money they have used illegally without any consequences. And he does it in the best Manchester accent. He is flying home from Vegas on Thursday. And wants to go to the North Rim with his wife beforehand. That's all you need to know, and spontaneous encounters like this are the icing on the cake of road tripping.

My drive is now going to be truly phenomenal along the Vermillion Cliffs and even though my phone is already showing Utah time, I'm still in Arizona. For the next 2 hours I'm just going to enjoy being almost alone. And by alone, I mean on the road - I'm alone in the car anyway.

Via Jakobs Lake, a ski resort at 8,000 feet, we then head back down to Kanab, which is 4 km from the Utah state border. Finally in my favorite state.

The Sun and Sand Motel has seen better days, and, without being disrespectful, so has its owner Nicki. She is a bit toothless, but she has enough charm to like her and accept the run-down room. Despite everything, it is very clean and you can tell that she is trying very hard with very few resources. The proximity to the national parks will keep her afloat, I assume. Otherwise, the standard is very low. But it is charming.

I order my dinner online from Wendy's. This chain used to exist in Germany, but it's an institution here. Of course I use the drive-thru and, being as professional as all the people here are, it goes without any complications.

I think I'll call my media player Jesus because it's resurrected. I have no idea what it was in the other hotel, but it works perfectly. So I enjoy a bit of Walking Dead and doze off before booking accommodation for the next few days. Which isn't that easy. In some areas there are very few reasonably priced places.

But I enjoy it, choosing, changing the routes a little, and then really enjoying it. And if it doesn't work out the way it should, then that's the appeal of a road trip for me. Anyone can be a motel owner with teeth.