I truly believe we had managed to save the best till last. To describe this place for what it's worth and the magic I felt when I was there, I feel would still not do it justice. But I will give it my best.

During our last day in Hollywood, Kieran and I hired a car and spent the entire morning finding secret roads and climbing steep mountains to get the perfect view of the Hollywood sign. It felt like we didn’t stop until the sun went down and our legs gave in on us.

We went on to spend a whole week in San Francisco. By now Kieran had grown tired of driving, so I took the wheel for the entire 6-hour drive from Hollywood. It was a little different to what we had been used to.

Santa Monica is one those magical places that appears insanely beautiful in daylight, but only gets prettier as it ages towards dusk. The heart of its streets are always buzzing with curious and wide eyed by-passers.

After Coachella and Las Vegas, my mind and body felt like it went through the wars. Kieran and I were craving for some down time after ten days straight of wild mischiefs. And so we headed towards Venice Beach.

Once we were back on our way, it seemed like there were miles and miles of desert with Joshua trees emerging from its grounds. I spent the rest of the way looking out for the green road signs that counted down the miles of how long there was to go until we reached Las Vegas.

Coachella (a three day long music festival in the middle of the American desert) was one of those things you always dreamed of doing, you need someone to pinch you to remind you that it’s all in fact happening right in front of your eyes.

After many hours on the road, I was becoming restless and eager to reach our next stop. Until there it was – a sign saying ‘Sleep in a Wigwam’ (otherwise known as a teepee) and so we did just that.

Route 66. Road trips in the desert heat. Small town heroes. Elvis songs playing out of petrol bowser's. Iconic road signs. Clear blue skies. Cadillac Ranch. Abandoned streets. Welcoming locals. Thrift shops galore. Drinks outside Chevy.

Meet Chevy. A rustic Tioga motorhome made in 1987, runs like a dream and is as old as I am. Four days after we landed in California we bought him and named him after Chevy Chase.

By now it had hit me that our time in the wild wild west was coming to an end. And boy have I enjoyed it! The heavy Western accents, the rodeos, the cowboys, the cheap booze, the country music and our mutual admiration for Johnny Cash.

After veering off to the exit for Dallas, I asked Kieran if he had also noticed the dark clouds appearing from the murky skies. He told me that there must be some heavy rain coming our way.