Dad complained a lot on that trip. It was hot, it was too much time in the car, it was especially hot in Santa Barbara where the Santa Ana’s were blowing fiercely like standing in front of a hot oven, but Mom told me it was the best trip of their lives. Twenty one years later, I wish I had tried harder to give him more memories, take him more places, show him more things. Because I believe he did truly love that trip, was fascinated by the things he saw, and did have a good time. The night before he died, I dreamt that I was trying to get him to Italy. He would have loved Italy. Well Dad, I am traveling for you now.