When I was a girl, my dad always tried to teach me about cars.  He pointed to what this thing was and he explained how it worked.   And I remember none of what he tried to teach me.  I remember looking at his tan, scarred hands, that grime under the nails that would never come out.  I can close my eyes and smell the mix of diesel fuel and cigarette smoke. That was the smell of my dad after a long honest day's work in the shop.  The literal blue collar with his name stitched across his chest.

I dreamt I walked through the blooming Flower Fields of Carlsbad. A sea of pink, white, red and orange flowers in rows of waves as far as I could see. I stepped into a painting with the breezes blowing off the ocean and could see the ocean from atop the hill. I realized I wasn't dreaming. This was a dream come true.

If you want that cozy, holiday, cabin feel, even in the middle of summer,...

A photo gallery of my travels driving across the country from Illinois to Phoenix. Editor...

I came to this country as a 5-year-old little girl with just my small suitcase...

Do you remember why road trips are important? When was the last time you hit the open road for days? Whatever happened to road trips full of long stretches of open highway, dive restaurants and diners and "I pulled over for this" moments?